# The Happenings of Lucifus Cray: Update{23}07/06/06 - The Threading of the Weave



## Herremann the Wise (Oct 19, 2004)

Hello everyone and a cordial welcome to all,

The following story represents our current campaign [3.5] which has been going since 3rd Editions inception - with a couple of 2nd edition characters thrown in too. Unfortunately, one of those characters - my Paladin in fact - had recently been booted from the campaign. Looking back, his behaviour was entirely self-righteous but oh well, he was fun while he lasted. As such, I had to introduce a new character into the campaign and that is where this story begins.

The Party range from 11th to 13th level so hopefully this will present good reading for those of you who like some of the higher level stuff. I am one of six players (five of us DM's) aside from Paul who is the DM for this campaign. We are all certainly grateful for the fun he provides.

I hope you enjoy the story and style.

***​
_*A Quick Roster of Characters*_

*Lucifus Cray* [Conjurer 10 / Alienist 3]: A wily human warlock fond of intrigue.
*Demar Alorr* [Fighter 10 / Knight Protector of Greater Beltratia 3]: A human noble, silver spoon etc. Suits the classic lawful Paladin.
*Nemhan* [Sorcerer 13]: A very chaotic elf who easily finds trouble. Elves are very rare in our game.
*Titus Hornblower* [Rogue 12]: A halfling with a definite knack of rubbing two coins together and creating a third.
*Rebecca of Nethendawe* [Ranger ? / Rogue ?]: Mysteriously played by Maree. Human we think. Hated type {Most}
*Father Brian McPhail* [Cleric 11]: Priest of Galasso: Father of the Beltratian Pantheon. Somewhat gruff and grumpy. Human but he should have been born a dwarf.

***​
* The Disappearing Tower *

The newly titled Company of the Griffon had undergone dramatic events in recent weeks. The Paladin of Fiarle who shall be known from this point as he-that-shall-not-be-named had been foisted from the group in no uncertain terms to achieve his righteous agenda elsewhere. Demar Alorr; Knight Protector of Greater Beltratia had successfully removed he-that-shall-not-be-named from the group in a most dramatic stand off. Titus, halfling and rogue extraordinaire had told the Paladin to rack off while the rest of the group failed to have more of an opinion than to go with the consensus. In the end, it was Nemhan; the elvish wizard [who in actuality was only a sorcerer] who proclaimed that the Paladin would be more suited with those of his kind. He-that-shall-not-be-named promptly departed and was heard of later adventuring down into the abyss trying to exterminate all evil with a bunch of similarly minded fools. Passionate, to the last was he.

Currently however, the party had reformed after a month’s sabbatical. They all met back in their base of operations: the City of Nethendawe, to discuss recent developments. Demar had recently won the Emperor’s medal at his order’s Grand Melee – a curious event where a bunch of farmers, knights and other riff-raff of the order beat each other’s heads in until only one remained standing. Demar was left standing as the one with the least beaten in head and so he garnered much glory and honour from the display. Demar’s martial efforts were augmented by his wizard friend and cohort Abacus [and this guy was a proper wizard too].

Rebecca, a strange “hunter” and gatherer of information had joined up with Titus the rogue to investigate events within Nethendawe itself. The group had a month earlier successfully defeated the Thieves Guild known as the Mocker’s Eye and so Rebecca and Titus had been busy mopping up the last of their presence. The massive beholder who was the Mocker’s “Eye” had been well and truly dealt with and so some level of order and safety were restored to the many and twisting streets of Nethendawe.

Father Brian contemplated the many messages of his god Galasso whilst making a variety of magical equipment for the party. Nemhan pottered around The Fraternity (the order of wizards in Nethendawe) hoping to ingratiate himself more so into their wizardly doings. He had been somewhat on the outer with Niconius Fren, the Head of The Fraternity ever since a disastrous incident with the Lady Krueg of Keryl several months earlier. Suffice to say, the chaotic elf had gone some way to making amends by gifting Niconius with a “Well of Many Worlds” much to the dismay of the rest of the party. Nemhan lacked the authority to give away such a priceless party item but I suppose an elf is an elf and an elvish sorcerer trying to be a wizard is something else again.

Presently, the group joined up along the Beltrates River in Nethendawe to discuss their various doings at Demar’s premises, a massive yet only partially finished keep labouring ever slower towards its completion deadline. Whilst intending to catch up on recent movement and activity as well as a possible new mission to Larkshire killing Giant Rivertrolls, the Company of the Griffon was somewhat distracted by local events. Of immediate interest was a squat tower that had been appearing and disappearing at regular intervals for the past few days directly adjacent to the demarcation of Demar’s property. The majority of Demar’s followers had thought it had been the fusty wizard Abacus performing some strange experiment. However when the closeted wizard had been asked, he claimed no knowledge of the events, “I assure you Lord Demar I know nothing of this. If it is magical as you describe, then it is of a distressingly powerful magnitude. We must investigate.”

The others somewhat curious as well decided to head out and follow Abacus’s suggestion. [You have to understand that not much worries this group; they are pretty powerful – 11th to 13th level]. The buildings placement, while not technically breaching the boundaries set down by the Governor Loriam of Nethendawe [she gifted Demar with the land for services rendered], still bore a degree of insolence that disturbed the young knight. If the structure blocked local access for his keeps construction, he would have the thing removed upon the instant.

***​
As they got closer to the three story stone structure, a sign upon the building was spotted dangling in the breeze drifting off the Beltrates. “What does that say Titus”, Demar enquired.
“Buggered if I know” responded Titus trying to rub a smudge off of the eyeglass lens with his shirtsleeve. The group approached carefully and Titus read the sign above the open doorway to the tower.
“Lucifus’s… Diabolerie… Arcana. What kind of name is that?!”
Abacus, warming up to informative duty answered, “I fear good Titus that it has to do with something entirely evil. Diabolerie refers to works of the Devil or some such. Arcana refers to the wizardly arts while Lucifus…well whoever he is, he must certainly be a foreigner.”

This had the party a little on edge. They had dealt recently with the Mocker’s Eye Guild that had connections to the abyss and so dealing with something directly evil like this again did not sit well with them. Demar, ever the hero walked to the front and poked his head inside the premises. It soon became obvious that this was a shop of some type. Books lined every conceivable space in the building with scrolls, skulls and strange equipment rife. A twisted staircase led aloft to an upper area where a small kafuffle was taking place.

“Ah…hello” enquired Demar speaking towards the upper level of the tower. “Is anyone up there?”
The noise from above ceased momentarily before continuing. A few seconds later a voice could be heard giving orders, “We have customers Joald… don’t just leave them standing there pondering their fates.”
Another voice could be heard mumbling an ineffectual response before seemingly returning to whatever it (Joald?) was doing.

At that point a strange floating figure descended from the upper portion of the tower. “And somehow I’m supposed to make money with such staff” mumbled the hovering cross-legged man somewhat exasperated at being disturbed from his work. “Oh…we do actually have customers”, the man said somewhat surprised as if clientele were a novelty. The man floated down to the group slowly; recognition appearing on his face as if in delight. He was wearing a strange black silk toga and what appeared to be some form of headdress [the group had not seen a turban before]. He proceeded to hover above and in front of the surprised party before introducing himself, “Is there anything in particular I can help you with? My name is Lucifus Cray…Warlock.”

Now this immediately had the group on guard. Warlocks and Witches were seen in an incredibly poor light in Nethendawe. With recent events [another sorry saga involving the party that shall perhaps be discussed at a later stage] regarding witches still fresh in the minds of those of the party and city, this man automatically aroused deepest suspicion. 

“My name is Lord Demar of the Family Alorr. You have set up your… premises disturbingly close to my property. I do not wish you ill but I would like to know what exactly you are doing here and perhaps when you are intending to depart?”
“Now that, I’m glad you asked. In actual fact and I am sure to your surprise, I was hoping to attract your august attention young Demar,” replied Lucifus as Demar frowned at the informal use of his first name. “I was hoping you… and I suppose your entire party would consider me as a candidate for inclusion into your famous group of adventurers. In fact, I would wish to assist you now that you seem to have released the unfortunate services of your Paladin.”

Now this caused a definite stir amongst the group. Father Brian immediately choked upon the temerity of this strange man while Demar was caught short for words – it was not quite the answer he was expecting. Nemhan, himself floating [if not quite as elegantly as Lucifus] dropped to his feet while Rebecca tried to apply some form of logic to the request. Abacus peered inquisitively at a strange set of equipments upon a shelf while Titus was the only one who thought the man’s introduction somewhat ingenious. He had certainly grabbed their attention [and from a rogue’s point of view, he had a fabulous variety of valuable and saleable items].

Eventually, Demar found his voice, “As the newly appointed leader of our group, I find your request hard to fathom. Do you know who exactly we are and what we stand for? Your interests would seem to be somewhat at discord with our own.”
“But young Demar [Demar’s frown deepened even further at this point], you are looking at perhaps one of the foremost minds of arcana, extraplanar activity, magics and lore, not only here in Nethendawe but perhaps across the breadth of Urth. I am not boasting when I say that I would be an incredible asset to your group. My castings would augment your group’s already potent magics nicely, particularly considering the most recent departure of some upfront righteous muscle. I can of course summon all manner of creatures to good and positive effect to assume some of the slack.”

Lucifus’s argument and promise of ability while cogent did not seem to immediately sway the young Knight still caught surprised by the overall request. By this stage Abacus had ventured further examining various articles for trade that seemed to increasingly disturb him. Titus as well had begun to “case” the tower while Rebecca and the others watched on to see Demar’s response.

Just as Demar was about to speak, a small ruckus similar to that of their initial entry could be heard followed by a squawk of protest from some creature. The heavy steps of a very large person as well as a few hideous noises [possibly laughter] could be heard twisting down the tight staircase. Landing at the base of the stairs was a repulsive beast: half man, half orc carrying a ridiculously large axe. “Gruk gnasa, tuk-tuk?” he asked Lucifus in a strange tongue.
“Ara su Tunthi. Nusay Gnasa” responded Lucifus as calmly as possible to the beast’s question of whether to take all of the visitor’s heads off. “This my friends and guests is Tunthi. He is very happy to meet you all”, ‘interpreted’ Lucifus.

Now Tunthi is best described as barely human, poorly attired [in rat fur] and somewhat rank and odiferous to those near him. He is also incredibly large and possibly strong enough to rip most people in half. Both he and Lucifus exchanged quick words in the primitive Derman language while the half-orc sniffed around the new guests. Lucifus had by this stage determined that Derman was fortunately foreign to the Company of the Griffon.

Abacus who had by now stumbled upon Lucifus’s collection of demon skulls – some inscribed with a curious dialect rarely seen by mortals – called out to Demar, “I am not entirely happy with some of the articles this man has in his possession.” Lucifus in fact had a great number of questionable items in his possession as any comprehensive collection of lore on arcana and extraplanar activities eventually must. If Abacus had have ventured to the upper levels, hostile action would have been inevitable. Fortunately for the group and of course Lucifus Cray, Abacus kept his investigations to the lowest level.

Demar now turned back to Lucifus, “If Abacus has issues with some of your interests then so do I. While any support or assistance, particularly of the arcane variety is always appreciated, you are not doing much to further your cause here. We would need someone who was trustworthy and could act in a responsible manner. Your strange interests would seem to preclude…”

At this point, Demar’s postulating was interrupted by Tunthi the half-orc looking leeringly over at Rebecca and holding something out towards her whilst shuffling from foot to foot. Further examination revealed two coins of platinum being thrust at Rebecca. It took a few moments for all present to work out the intentions of the half-orc. The Bluster of Father Brian’s billowing protest then filled the air, “Well I never! This is an absolute disgrace to come here and be subjected to the fornicating desires of this beastly…”
“Tunthi esa nusay bilgus. Nusay bilgus”, Lucifus said mildly reproaching the half-orc [more for his frivolous generosity than the fact that the offer was not consonant with Rebecca’s dignity]. “I am terribly sorry young lady. Tunthi sometimes gets a little toey when in big cities like Nethendawe. I can assure you however that he was being untypically generous. Personally I would derive some level of compliment from his misguided display of affection.”
Rebecca, not easily flustered put a hand upon her weapon ready to draw it if Tunthi’s exuberance edged any closer. Tunthi however, looked downward, his disappointment obvious and firmly registered.

A further disturbance was heard from upstairs as a large bird descended towards Lucifus. At this, Titus’s crossbow was instantly out and loaded and Rebecca’s hand went from short sword to longbow, instantly drawing an arrow and placing a bead upon the raven; now freshly perched upon Lucifus’s shoulder.

Lucifus’s face was unmoved, the cordial smile not leaving for an instant. He then replied, “Friends, friends. Come now, this is my small companion. Surely she is not worthy of such dramatic attention?”
Demar who had gone on guard as well answered “I think you need to start explaining yourself a little more thoroughly now. We have had poor experiences with ravens of late. They have been used to spy upon our group’s activities much to our detriment.”
“Well surely you don’t think Winter here is any threat. She is quite friendly in fact.” Lucifus looked towards his familiar, “Go on why don’t you introduce yourself…”
It took a few moments before the bird coughed up a small squawk. Lucifus frowned. “Go on. Introduce yourself properly.”
“Hello” said the bird in a very croaky bird-like Beltratian [the Common tongue for the region].
This brought several strange looks from the party. “Unfortunately, her Beltratian is scatty at best. On the other hand though her Ambornan is perfectly fluent”, answered Lucifus.

Titus by now had perched himself at height upon the staircase, “Well I don’t care nuthin’ bout talking birdies. Pluck us one of its feathers and lets see what happens.”
Titus was obviously responding to their experiences where if a feather from one of their enemy’s ravens was dislodged and touched the ground, it would crumble upon the instant to dust. Lucifus knowing none of this responded diffidently, “I do not know of the suspicions you speak. Suffice to say that there is surely some form of misunderstanding here.”

The looks upon the faces of the party had not changed and in Father Brian’s case, his frown had deepened to outright hostility. “Oh very well then” said Lucifus quickly plucking one of Winter’s downy feathers from her breast. The raven squawked in extreme protest and flapped disgustedly back to the upper level. In the excitement, several feathers were left floating down to the ground. The party’s eyes followed the twisting path of the feathers to the floor. As the feathers hit the ground resting upon the flagstones unmolested, the party visibly eased. This seemed to assuage some of their concerns to Lucifus’s surprise. He then remembered something and smiled although not quite as cordially as before. “Well I hope that alleviates some of your concerns in regards to Winter. As you can see, she is not some devil spawn or arcane oddity. However, you have now got her most upset at me and I dare say I’ll need to perform several contortions of highest magnitude to placate her.”

Ever the icebreaker, Tunthi let loose a rancid expulsion of thunderous proportions. He looked around at his backside where a cage containing a toad rested at his hip. With exaggerated joy, he wafted the now acrid air towards the toad while excitedly repeating “fufi, fufi, fufi…”
“What on Urth is he doing”, said Demar stating the obvious mirthful confusion of everyone as Tunthi banged the metal cage in delight. “Do you normally let him treat your creatures in such manner?”

Smiling, Lucifus said “Tunthi has a certain emotional affinity and rapport with a variety of beasts. In regards to that nasty toad however, he does his best to torment the malignant thing.”
Nemhan, now aroused said, “What exactly are you saying? Is the toad… evil?’
“Well… “
“Well is it evil?
“I suppose its distorted morality could encompass such motives. It is certainly a most malevolent beastling”, Lucifus answered.
“ What do you mean by this?’ demanded Nemhan. “Is it some demon’s get you have captured and now torture?”
“Well Nemhan… may I call you Nemhan?” enquired Lucifus. “For a start, the creature is not mine, it is Tunthi’s and secondly, if you knew the whole story, you might not be so quick to judge Tunthi’s behaviour. He is in fact performing a most important duty and service for his clan in regards to this… toad.”

Nemhan, not able to contain either impulse or curiosity cast a magic and approached both Tunthi and his ‘companion’ whilst also trying to catch Lucifus within the spell’s range. Tunthi looked on harmlessly while the toad seemed to cower back uncomfortably from Nemhan’s aura. “It is most certainly evil”, reported Nemhan. “As to its origins, I cannot divine Lord Demar.”

Demar now spoke, “Again Lucifus, this seems most uncustomary. Why do you feel the need to have an evil toad? And certainly why is it evil in the first place? In fact, while you have rabbited on about your numerous virtues, you have not discussed a mote about what it is exactly that you are doing here, nor have you provided any background history for our groups discussion on your suitability for inclusion. In fact you have mounted an argument quite to the contrary.”

“Why Demar, as you can see if you look around, I am a merchant of various lore. In fact I travel from place to place with my tower providing assistance to interested and like-minded people. In truth though I have not always been a vendor. As for the toad’s malignancy, I suppose I must confess myself that I have not always followed the good path nor been the nicest of chaps either.”
“Wait a minute” demanded Father Brian, obviously unhappy with Lucifus’s personality and presentation thus far. “Do you follow some God or Deity that we should perhaps know about?”
Father Brian obviously expected to hear some form of tainted worship or cult membership.

“Well as a matter of fact, I have searched and found entities far more powerful than the commonly worshipped local deities.” To this, Father Brian of Galasso’s face purpled. Lucifus not noticing continued, “I suppose I have tried to reach beyond the normal boundaries customarily accepted by most mortals.”
At this point, Lucifus was doing his unwitting best to dig a rather large hole for himself, jump in and hand the group a series of spades.

Demar fortunately sought to take some of the heat out of the situation trying his best to give the man a chance [Lucifus might be very useful to the party after all]. “But you have swayed away from such evil doings now? You currently consider yourself good of heart so to speak?”
“Oh quite assuredly so Demar. I believe I have well and truly suffered the redemptive process in its entirety. Where as once I used to claim dominion over any creature I could bind to my will, now I am far more selective.”
“So you used to deal with evil beings as well!?” asked Father Brian.
“Of course, although demons while useful are somewhat flighty. Devils on the other hand are much more practical. However, they do abrade my sensibilities somewhat. I must say though, such creatures have advanced my power immeasurably. I suppose…”
Lucifus’s words were cut off by Demar placing a hand upon his massive hammer whilst quietly saying, “Let’s get one thing quite straight shall we if you wish to join us. If you so much as pretend to flicker one of these demons or devils into our presence, I will see to it personally that it shall be your last movement. On this may I have your sincere understanding?”

“Oh Demar, you have no need for such concerns at all. I have long given up dealing with such creatures. I have seen the error of my ways well and truly. I have not used such a creature to assassinate someone for what must be…”
“You were an assassin?!!!”, roared Father Brian. “I believe the current discussions have gone quite far enough! If the rest of you wish to stay hear and listen to this heathen dribble…”
“But I assure you good Father. I have most earnestly changed my ways. In fact I would consider myself most trustworthy… one of the reasons in fact that I have chosen the path of Merchant.”
Even Titus shook his head at this, trying his best to hold back a smirk as he balanced his crossbow at Lucifus’s head waiting for the go ahead.

“So, having reformed yourself from assassinations, you now wander around in this tower?” asked Demar. “How exactly do you carry it around?” he added.
“Why by magic of course. It is certainly one of the greatest Dweomers I have designed. I have titled it Lucifus’s Portable Tower. It is a very handy way of carrying all my libraries, materials and possessions from place to place. For example if you need to vacate a particular township in a hurry to evade the local authorities, you simply dismiss the tower and…”
“And you have needed to evade the law?” questioned Demar. Now Demar as a Knight Protector and most strict adherent to all things lawful waited patiently for the answer.
“No no no, of course not. I was merely speaking in theoretical terms. I make a hard and fast rule never to cheat a customer. Reputation is everything in my field. I would not want to be seen as breaking the law so to speak.”

“Well, if you insist upon your probity, we will have to believe you”, Demar said. “Nemhan does not seem to have divined differently [Nemhan shakes his head earnestly] and while some of your interests are off-putting, I suppose we all have our foibles. I do have a question for you though seeing as you have such an interest in books. If I wished for you to purchase a Master’s Library on historical scripts around the time of the Interregnum, you could quickly effect such a transaction?”
“Such a request could be easily achieved over time”, Lucifus answered.
“What do you mean by ‘achieved over time’?”
“Well”, said Lucifus. “You could not possibly expect to instantly…you see people will not just simply sell an entire collection like that. Such a collection is… well... collected.”
“Surely there would be some room for latitude?”
“Not as much room as you would wish. You could pay treble the market value… unless of course you wished to… de-possess someone of their library.”
“De-possess?”
“Steal. You know…nick their books”, added Titus, not passing up an opportunity to set the Knight off.

“No!” responded Demar emphatically. “I am most certainly not requesting you to thieve, steal or unlawfully attain someone else’s possessions. Such a library would be required to be lawfully purchased. I will not have my good name or the company’s stained by such activities. I was hoping for a more expedient transaction but if that is the way the wind blows, it is good knowledge to have I suppose. In any case, the issue at hand is your request to join the Company of the Griffon. While I am the leader of this group I would still prefer for individual responses from the party. A vote would be the most orderly and practical mechanism. Abacus, as my trusted advisor, what are your thoughts?”

“Well”, warmed Abacus to the task. “I have some concerns in regards to this man's past as well as some of the habits he has picked up from goodness knows where. From his unnatural collection and aerial acrobatics, I can see he is a wizard [Lucifus looks most affronted at this title] of considerable power. Whether he has the morals to use such power correctly is yet to be seen. As to any benefits he may supply the group… I am yet to come to a full and complete conclusion. As such Lord Demar, I will be in accord with your opinion and judgment”.

“Rebecca?” asked Demar.
“He could be useful. I fail to see too much of an issue with him as long as he keeps this hairy bag of filth and snot in line”, she said in her low cadent voice, her eyes distinctly upon Tunthi’s large back.

“Titus?”
“He looks the goods to me.”

“Father Brian?”
Looking disdainfully over at Lucifus who was now starting to hover upside-down in expectation of the priest’s poor opinion, Father Brian said “I will abstain from the poll and keep my opinions to myself”.
Such was the way Father Brian thought to register his most heavy disapproval. Surely the Company did not want to be morally weighed down by this ridiculous little man.

“Nemhan?”
“If he has changed his ways, I am all for giving someone a go” Nemhan answered.
While disturbed by some of Lucifus’s revelations and despite his party position being marginalised by another spellcaster, a mood of congeniality came over the elf to accede to Lucifus’s inclusion.

“Well” began Demar. “I suppose it falls to me to rubber stamp the invitation. The majority of you have chosen to give Lucifus here a go. But Lucifus Cray or whatever you wish to call yourself, understand one thing with clarity and precision. I will tolerate your addition so long as you toe the party line. Understand that we deal on a regular basis with the type of person you once were. If you ever fall back into earlier habits, your life will be quickly ended so long as I stand upon the soils of Urth. Anyway, meet with us this evening at the recently completed Mess Hall of my keep at the ringing of the 6th bell. We are actually making plans for an expedition on the morrow and so your input will be required if you truly wish to help us.” To the others Demar added, “And Lord Herland Ramus, Leader of my Order will be in attendance as well. He has communicated a gap in his schedule with the Governor so he will be present for the evening repast as well.”

With this, Lucifus bowed deeply and politely. “I thank you Lord Demar and all of you for your sincerest good will [this elicited a firm stare and jutted jaw from Father Brian]. I shall make my preparations for this evening’s gathering”. Smiling now he added, “I look forward to a little adventuring. It has been quite a while so thank you again for the opportunity”.

With this, the group departed Lucifus’s tower a little surprised at what had just happened. Surely they had not just asked an itinerant, thieving, demon summoning, raven owning, evil toad carrying, half-orc possessing, warlock-titled, godless, former assassin to become the newest member of the valorous Company of the Griffon? I suppose a Paladin was part of the group once so anything is possible.


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## Boss (Oct 19, 2004)

I have to say that I truly enjoyed reading this.  I love how the party interplay worked with the new character here.  Usually, in our campaigns, a meeting of new characters goes like this...

GROUP LEADER:  "Who are you?"
NEW CHAR:  "I am ____________!!!!"
GROUP LEADER:  "Ok, let's go!"

Not the best if I do say so myself.  Congrats on the beginning of what looks to be another excellent storyhour!


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## Herremann the Wise (Oct 21, 2004)

*{2} A Dinner With Guests*

Thanks Boss for the generous reply - any and all feedback, positive or negative is always appreciated. Hope you enjoy the ride.

Unfortunately, the first post was most likely a little long for most; I just didn't want to force a break with the initial meeting. [That took us about 3 hours of role-playing - I left quite a few things out unfortunately but it was already over-sized]. Now that we're on the way, I'll temper updates to a more bite-size level.

Anyway people, don't be strangers, post your thoughts if you're enjoying.

***

_ A Dinner with Guests _

A light rain persisted across Nethendawe, casting a dour aspect to the afternoon. Preparations were made by Demar for the evening’s entertainment. This involved getting Father Brian to apply his culinary and gastronomic talents to the kitchen, overseeing servants and staff to properly prepare the newly constructed dining area as well as coordinate security from some of the guardsmen at his command [Demar has a large number of martial followers]. This would be the first time Herland Ramus, Head of the Knight Protectors of Greater Beltratia had visited the half-constructed keep so Demar was adamant on making a good show of playing host. In addition, he hoped for the keep to be enshrined as the primary defensive presence of his Order in Nethendawe and so excellent hospitality was a must and requirement.

The invitation to Lucifus Cray had been a bit of a surprise so Demar had Titus and Rebecca do a little background checking over the afternoon just to make sure they were not being duped by one of their enemy’s servants. From what they found, they deduced small reason for further suspicion and so for the moment, Lucifus was left installed as the newest member of the Company of the Griffon. Obviously however, not all in the group were happy with the circumstances: Father Brian in particular. 

As the late afternoon drizzle abated and the sun’s glow momentarily appeared before setting; numerous flamboys around the keep were lit providing a cheery and radiant illumination for the evening’s guests. While there was obviously much work yet to be done, the beginnings of a fine keep were clearly seen by all as the various towers and walls under construction silhouetted the beautiful evening sky to advantage. Herland Ramus along with his small entourage were given a tour of the keep’s prospective facilities before joining various members of the group in the reception foyer. There, they enjoyed glasses of well-pressed wine and accompanying savouries and hors d’oeuvres. So far however, Lucifus Cray had not presented himself to the festivities. While not yet tardy or overdue, a close eye was being kept out for their newest member’s punctual arrival. 

In fact, Lucifus was currently outside the compound having been stopped and delayed by a patrol of four guards representing Demar’s interests. Floating his usual five feet above the ground, he was dressed once more in a distinctively fine black toga although the accompanying turban had this time been left out of the raiment. Instead, a wonderfully jewelled headband adorned his completely bald pate while his black goatee was waxed in resplendent grandeur. On his shoulder rested the raven Winter while standing directly in front of him was the uninhibited form of the giant, axe-carrying Tunthi replete with caged toad at hip. It would appear that Tunthi’s presence had not been expected.

“I understand good sir that you were summonsed by Lord Demar but nowhere was I informed of the invitation of this… thing.” The guard while doing his best to look authoritative was belied by having to distinctively gaze up at both the half-orc and the floating warlock.
“I am sure watchman that there has just been a simple miscommunication between yourself and your superiors. I commend your diligence but in this regard, it is most probably easier and more effectual if I just simply presented my guest to Demar and thus not distract or waylay you from your tasks and responsibilities. In fact, I believe I have just heard the ringing of the sixth bell so if you’ll excuse us…”
Now normally, all things being equal, most people would have simply acceded to the simpler path of letting Lucifus through. In this case however, the guard not wanting to set a poor example and appear derelict in his duties to those under his command pushed forward and commanded, “While I am sure you have the best of intentions, I cannot allow you to overstep the clear instructions that were presented to me. You will have to leave this…”
And once more Tunthi became the centre of attention. Normally, his proclivity for swinging his axe would have been the more immediate response but on this occasion, he had been given strict instructions not to do or say anything hostile. As such, he had started scratching himself during the discussions and had accidentally dislodged his frontal member from his loose fitting garments. Now seeing his priapic unit, he then felt compelled to relieve himself and so with a satisfied moan, he pointed the surge just away from the now speechless guards.

“You’ll have to excuse poor Tunthi on this occasion. He’s had… an infection down there and so has little control of his functions… at the moment”, Lucifus quickly fabricated.
The guard’s face now totally disgusted said, “This is _ most _ unseemly and I will not allow…”
“I’m sorry good sir”, shouted Lucifus motioning at his ears. By now, a sizeable puddle had developed and the continuing flow along with Tunthi’s accompanying grunts and moans were making quite a ruckus. “I’m struggling to hear your commentary. Can you speak up?”
“ _ I said! I will not allow you to take this beast into my master’s presence. In fact, I suggest that you remove both he and you immediately from the grounds before I call… _”

The watchmen’s orders were interrupted by Demar and Father Brian’s appearance from just beyond the torchlight. Demar shouted from a distance, “He’s OK Jerard. Let them pass otherwise they will be late for the first course.” Tunthi at this point had tapped and shaken – something akin to strangling an engorged eel – and was now trying to relocate and stuff his titanic package back into his clothing whilst hurriedly shuffling past the guards towards Demar. “Have a good evening gentlemen”, said Lucifus cordially with only the slightest of smirks towards the now open mouthed and totally stricken guardsmen. Guard duty in the employ of Lord Demar Alorr was not exactly shaping as the glorious post it had initially promised thought Jerard as he moved his men on.


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## Herremann the Wise (Oct 25, 2004)

*{3} A Toad By Any Other Name?*

And the story continues...

***​
Lucifus and Tunthi were escorted to the reception area with Demar and Father Brian. Along the way, Demar exclaimed that while Tunthi would be welcome, Lucifus would need to clean him up or at the very least place some enchantment upon him that would make his rather ripe aura less noticeable and offensive. Father Brian annoyed at the expedition to get Lucifus, quickly whipped around the rear of the hall to the kitchen to oversee the procession of the evening’s many courses. Lucifus, following Demar’s direction did his best to make Tunthi presentable. They had repaired to an adjoining vestibule when an elderly man in finest livery carrying a white serving cloth greeted them.

“Good evening gentlemen, I am Romsey, Milord’s chief aide, butler and valet. I have been given to understand some measure of assistance would be appreciated? Here… allow me to help you out of those sir,” suggested Romsey, offering to aid Tunthi from his soiled garments. Tunthi just looked at Lucifus perplexed while Lucifus interpreted Romsey’s directions to the half-orc. To his extreme credit and professionalism, Romsey did not even flinch when handed the rags leaving the half-orc standing freshly nude upon the newly laid flagstones. “With your leave good sir, I’ll have your garments washed and pressed. In the meantime, I have seen to some temporary attire that will surely make this evening’s events more comfortable for all concerned.”

A maid quietly stepped into the vestibule, suddenly choking at the sight of Tunthi’s grossly proportioned manhood before immediately locking her gaze to her feet. “Why thank you Clarissa,” expressed Romsey taking the large homespun robes from her shaking hands before excusing her. Romsey assisted Tunthi in applying the new outfit to best effect. “Yes… While not exactly the highest of mode and fashion [Tunthi insisted on accessorizing with his axe and toad’s cage], I’m sure it shall suffice. Do you have any other needs or requirements before your presentation to this evening’s gathering?” 
Lucifus shook his head, privately laughing at Tunthi’s totally bemused expression.
“No? In which case then allow me to warmly escort you both to the dining hall.”

By now, the visitors had been moved through into the Dining Hall as the first of seven courses was being prepared for consumption. Lord Herland Ramus had been given the seat of honour at the head of the table while Demar sat immediately to his right as protocol dictated. To Ramus’s left were positioned his two assistants from the Order while others in the group less constrained by matters of etiquette and diplomacy seated themselves as suited. Lucifus and Tunthi were finally ushered in and accommodated at the furthermost end of the table. Demar, noting everyone’s presence addressed the gathering.

“Welcome everyone and thank you all for coming this evening. To you Lord Ramus, I am honoured to have you visit our humble facilities here that I hope will develop into a strong symbol of our Orders presence in Nethendawe. In regards to this evening’s feast, Galasso has surely blessed us all this evening in encouraging Father Brian to perform his magic in the newly finished kitchen. However, before we delight in the forthcoming provender, I would like to officially introduce everyone to our honoured guest Lord Herland Ramus, Leader of the Knight Protectors of Greater Beltratia, Holy Knight of Fiarle the Lionheart and Principal Advisor to his eminence Emperor Leto of the Reborn Beltratian Empire. He has kindly deigned to talk to us all in regards to recent events, most notably, the Emperor’s official endorsement of the Company of the Griffon as a representative of the Reborn Empire [this was met by polite applause].”

Demar introduced the group to Lord Ramus [each member responding as noted below]. “Obviously sir, you have met my trusted friend and chief advisor Magister Abacus [a polite nod] in addition to my chamberlain Sir William Sarenns [a most diplomatic bow] and Father Brian Macphail, presently in the kitchen. However, may I introduce Rebecca of Nethendawe [a practised curtsey], Titus Hornblower [an informal wave], the Wizard Nemhan [a most ingratiated and fawning bow] and our newest member as of this morning, the Wizard Lucifus Cray [a spoken correction of “Warlock” followed by an inclination of the head] and…[a slight stumble from Demar here] his companion…Tunthi of the Axe” [Tunthi oblivious to the introduction, failed to produce an appropriate response].

“I am pleased to meet you all,” intoned Lord Ramus. “Although Lucifus Cray, I note your title as one not consonant with the dignity of a representative of the Emperor as the now freshly endorsed Company of the Griffon entails. Perhaps it would be most wise of you to follow Lord Demar’s titular suggestion in this regard?”
Lucifus who had been floating at a slightly decreased altitude to facilitate a better eye-level with those assembled responded undaunted, “I thank you for the advice and shall consider it forthwith. Unfortunately, you must understand that many would be confused in regards to a changed vocation on my part.”
“The change would seem to be an augmentation. I do not understand your concerns,” answered the Knight.
“And no doubt you wouldn’t. However, the title of Warlock is fundamental to my outlook and the perceived presence I prefer. Its alteration would need to be something carefully considered… something of which I am of course now promising to at the very least look at.”
Demar, not wanting to see the evening’s proceedings begin on a poorer note quickly changed the focus. “Indications are [he nodded to Romsey who had just re-entered the hall] that the first course is ready for serving so please, everyone enjoy.”

Serving women quickly entered with a first course of freshly shucked oysters bathed in a reduction of white wine and garlic along with a new salad of baby cress, fresh greens, crisp eschalots and river leaves. Salmon roe was accompanied by a base of fennel, celery and blood orange and in turn augmented by a side dish of aged cheese, young rocket and baby capers. The majority of the guests consumed the course politely with courteous use of utensils and table manners according to societal decorum and etiquette. There were however a few notable exceptions.

Titus, who had declined the use of a “booster seat” instead stood with his hairy, small feet upon the chair and consumed the meal standing up with debonair use of his exquisite dagger. The group were quite familiar with this behaviour although ruffled eyebrows from both of Herland Ramus’s advisers were occasionally directed in the halfling’s direction. Titus made sure he smiled and nodded with a flourish on each such occasion. Lucifus maintained his hovering, cross-legged pose yet did not touch any of the food on offer_{1}_ although he did selectively apply his wine goblet in moderation. Tunthi however was having difficulty adjusting to the menu. While he had consumed everything within reach, he had left a mess both on, to the side and below the table. Occasionally he would bend over to pick up a choice, dropped morsel but each time, a flatulent rejoinder would accompany the action. Most politely ignored the behaviour although Rebecca could not help but chuckle on the noisier occasions.

Discussions again resumed whereby Sir Ramus congratulated the group on their significant improvement in status. In particular, he made mention of numerous positive reports of their behaviour in regards to their efforts in Nethendawe. However, he did report of difficulties with the city-states of Keryl, Flekir and Greatbridge_{2}_. There were rumours of a possible alliance amongst them if the Emperor sought to extend his reach beyond that he currently held. Perhaps surprisingly, Lord Ramus while fully supportive of Emperor Leto was reserved in regards to further ambitions beyond the limited charter already established. As such, the party were given a rare glimpse into the highest level of political manoeuvring not normally seen by members of the populous. 

Conversation then transferred to a discussion on Liches_{3}_ as well as the Larkshire expedition on the morrow. Lord Ramus suggested the group investigate a disturbing number of trolls and other nuisances that have had the local constabulary of rangers in conniptions. Normally, the Emperor would just let local authorities deal with the situation as best as they could but on this occasion; Lord Ramus had an inkling that there was more to the case than was initially presented. An unnatural undertone was garnered from a further report that had engaged his attention. As such, he thought that the Company of the Griffon might be best to investigate such things. They were quite capable of dealing with such threats and at the very least, would make short work of the Trolls. The fact that the local ruler of Larkshire, Governor Lidia of Terrefin was a former member and current ally of the group was also a fact not lost on Lord Ramus.

During the discussions, wonderful courses of magnificent proportion came and went. Steamed mussels, crab and other local shellfish were carefully prepared until succulent and savoury. An aromatic conserve of black olives, burnt sage butter and celeriac puree topped an aged haunch of venison carefully turned and roasted. Pheasant and other game collected by local hunters were broiled and capriciously matched to unusual vegetables. However, residing on the banks of the Beltrates, Father Brian was compelled to further extend the menu into other river-life: fresh catfish, stewed in a consommé of mixed vegetables and local produce were married to a casserole of smaller fish types and some of the riverbush delicacies favoured by locals. By the presentation of the final course, the mood had relaxed and discussion ventured more towards personal interests from the previous heavier discourse. 

Nemhan who had applied generous quantities of alcohol to his gullet was busy making chitchat. “So Lucifasus…sus,” slurred Nemhan enjoying yet another glass of dessert wine pressed from the Alleara grape. “Can you enlighten us in regards to your… malignant toad? The good Holy Knight here may be able to… cure_{4}_ it of its evil intentions?”
Sir Herland Ramus and indeed most of the table now turned to where Lucifus was hovering and Tunthi gloriously snoring – having downed three jugs of wine in quick succession.
“I’m not too sure the Emperor’s Advisor would wish to be bothered with such trifling details, answered Lucifus.
“No please Lucifus. I would be most interested in this…evil toad.”
“Well I suppose I could cover some of the basic details for you if insisted upon. In fact, the first place would be the common misconception that this creature is a toad: an attitude I have done my best to portray and inculcate. Please forgive my untruth. The creature is in actuality Jengus of the Pianatha tribe: mortal enemy and destroyer of Tunthi’s entire clan.”

Stunned silence greeted those words.

***​
_{1}_Lucifus was neither intentionally being discourteous nor fearing poisoning from Father Brian, he merely had been conditioned into not eating through the use of his Ring of Sustenance.

_{2}_The Reborn Empire was realistically not a patch on its former glory. Many of these provincial city-states (Keryl etc.) openly laughed at a “New” Empire comprising of just two cities: Nethendawe and Peronsil. Whilst Nethendawe was the former capital of the once Great Beltratian Empire and Peronsil was one of her prime sister-cities, the sovereign reach of the new Reborn Empire was impotent at best. In fact, recently and without fanfare, the county of Larkshire had been added to the new empire’s register though this was a source of even more ridicule. This backwater would be an increased drain on the Reborn Empire’s already slim resources.

_{3}_Liches form a rather devastating period in the history of the realm known as the Interregnum. More information on this and how it relates to our party will be presented in a future post.

_{4}_The proselytizing Paladin He-that-shall-not-be-named was very successful at swaying creatures from evil to good. There were several notches in his episcopal staff, most notable being a hill giant named Grusk: currently and peacefully residing on the Paladin’s island. Nemhan was obviously making reference and the incorrect assumption that all Holy Knights were capable of such feats of catechisation. Lord Ramus’s pursuits in fact focused on alternative endeavours.


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## Boojum (Oct 25, 2004)

Greetings Herremann.  Since you were so kind as to offer some feedback on my new story-hour, I thought I would return the favor.  Overall, I am really enjoying it and looking forward to reading more.  I find the somewhat comical tone very amusing, and am envious of the detailed character interaction and personalities in your group.  My players tend to get antsy if they don't get to kill something pretty regularly.  Again, good start, and I definitely want to read more.


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## Herremann the Wise (Oct 27, 2004)

*{4} The Gumbil's Turm*

Hello to all,

In addition to the update below, I have also altered the first post a little to make it a little more accessible. Thanks to all who are reading and enjoying.

***​
_Two Days Earlier…_

Nethendawe is a city with interesting features and history. The former capital of the Great Beltratian Empire stretching from Amborna in the East to Kortillne in the west, it now rests upon the Beltrates delta, a decadent shell of its former glory. The magnificent spires and domes remain but where as once, it was the height of civilization and technology; it now plays second fiddle to Peronsil in the new Reborn Empire: itself a simple ersatz domain of what once was. Its dominant architecture reflects its age, with a blending of styles and forms, elaborate bridges, bas-reliefs, and statues commemorating long-forgotten heroes. These features are sprinkled throughout the city.

Also peppering the city are a large number of Inns and Taverns that hold historic links to the Nethendawe of yore. The faces and people may have changed over the years but the traditions of these prime public houses remain as if the culture was intrinsic to their very walls and structure. The Hammer and Anvil remains the stern seat of the labourer, a carefully brewed selection of ales, beers and lagers representing the solemn nature of those of the trade. The excesses of the Golden Drake characterize the extreme clientele that walk through its massive doors. Many an adventurer has become involved in a scrap or brawl only to be left drunkenly singing with the other combatants later in the evening. The Starwing Tavern symbolizes to a certain extent, the cosmopolitan nature of Nethendawe. Here, practised thieves would drink along side of merchants and dealers. An overall mood and atmosphere of competence and shady deals pervaded the place; status was prime. The Sword and Star catered to the local watch and constabulary where as the Queen of Kort remained a favourite for the small number of nobility that remained in Nethendawe.

Perhaps the only inn belying this general trend of culture was Gumbil’s Turm. Where as once it had been an imperial army institution, it now played host to a variety of patrons whose interests ranged from the quaint to the perverse. It would be unfair to describe the ambiance as only dissolute or profligate, although certainly such was a part of the mystique of Gumbil’s Turm. On the whole though, most people would find something or someone of interest at the Turm, a most popular destination for secret rendezvous’, trysts or even simple conversation. At this moment in fact Lucifus Cray floated_{1}_ through its open stone doorway to find a casual corner with which to wait for his contact and friend. Her name was Chess.

The Turm’s mood at the moment was serene with the afternoon light shining through a handful of windows. The Beltrates lied beyond while numerous patrons wiled away the time sipping on wines, gentle spirits and even the occasional mug or flagon. Lucifus’s aerial entry had caused a small stir but to stare at someone of the arcane was normally considered slightly rude or course. As such, the decorous returned to their previous activity. A young woman however walked across the room and pulled up a chair on the other side of Lucifus’s position as she made her greetings, “Well hello once more. You certainly know how to make an entry.”
Lucifus did not immediately recognise Chess as she had magically altered her semblance_{2}_ to that of a human. However, a fillet confined her hair, which Lucifus divined as the magical source of her alteration. That velvety golden voice as well could also only belong to one person. Even without her slight elvish embellishments, she was still a perfect figure of beauty, her dark hair stunning_{3}_, her face exquisite.

Lucifus dissembled “I heard you were in the vicinity when I arrived in Nethendawe and thought to reacquaint myself with your wonderful voice and form.”
She looked him over, immediately sensing his intentions with a smile. “Thank you for the compliment. However, you have a job for me, I can sense. What is it to be this time?”
“What is this? … I was trying to be cordial; I did not want this to appear as a summons. Perhaps in fact I merely wish to converse and exchange concepts with you?”

To this she laughed: a most delightful sound. “I think not somehow. You’re up to something.” She looked at him with inquisitive intensity, trying to further divest Lucifus of his motives. “If I was foolish, I might even go along with your plans whatever they may be. In fact out of caprice and sheer perversity I still might. Lucifus, what is on your mind? I have little time and numerous preparations to make if the truth be told.”
“Preparations? What do you intend?”
“A performance for this evening…here at the Turm as a matter of fact. There will be a number of people in attendance, perhaps you would also like to be present.” 
Lucifus, somehow picking up on more than what was offered, “Whom in particular of those attending do you intend to beguile? I may be of assistance.”
Chess laughed once more, surprised at the wily warlock. “No, this is a most secret endeavour. The person involved does not have a clue and I would wish to keep it so. Your offerings would surely invoke suspicion.”

Lucifus sniffed, “quite so. However, I suppose there is a trifling I could get you to investigate if you can fit such probing into your busy schedule. [Lucifus looked sideways as he performed an incantation that would shield the exchange]. There is a group hereabouts who have murdered an acquaintance of mine: not that I was particularly fond of her; in fact she was decidedly repugnant in all aspects. Her one redeeming feature however was an article she possessed that may have since fallen into this group’s hands. It is an extremely powerful magical artifact titled a ‘Well of Many Worlds’. In actual fact, its properties go beyond that normally held possible. With study, I could divine these further properties and thus realise this item’s full potential. I need to know who possesses it as my own investigations and leads have led to nothing. I have a small ongoing project at the moment which may bare fruit but unfortunately nothing more.”

To this, Chess simply nodded. She looked around before asking, “For the normal fee?”
“And a little extra besides. This is in fact most important.” [Chess nodded her head once more] “Perhaps we could meet again after your performance and the dalliance you plan afterwards?”
“It would be late but I suppose such things don’t bother you. Are you staying anywhere in particular?”
“As a matter of fact no. Is there anywhere you can recommend?”
“Here at the Turm is convenient… as well as for other reasons.”
“Very well then, I shall procure my normal arrangements… and by the way, how is the wine range here?”
“Quite limited at the moment all things considered… why…?”
 “Chess, it was very nice to make your acquaintance once more and I look forward to seeing you again soon. I am now about to create quite a scene so if you’ll excuse me…” And with this, Lucifus inclined his head to her before hovering over to the innkeeper behind the bar. Chess loved seeing Lucifus perform his mischief, and as she had guessed, what was to follow was to be quite spectacular.

***​
_{1}_ Of note to those with an interest in the arcane, Lucifus has procured the spell commonly known as ‘Greater Mark of Air’ [From Monte’s Book of Eldritch Might 3.0]. He casts this at the sixth bell in the morning and night and thus maintains his flying ability – although normally he prefers to utilise the ‘good’ manoeuvrability provided to simply hover about with legs crossed.

The decision to go from 3.0 to 3.5 was pretty much universal from our group except for Dave who plays the stunningly chaotic Nemhan. The sorcerer was going to pretty much have his spell list torn apart and neutered with the change. As such Paul [Our DM] was excellent in allowing him to change his list around and keep his ‘Greater Mark of Air mark 3.0’ [a stunning piece of negotiation here from Dave as Paul is the ultimate stickler for the rules]. As such, Lucifus was also able to take advantage of Paul’s amazing concession.

_{2}_ Chess was in fact a half-elf of noble birth, born on the other side of the sheets. Her elven father was never found and her mother would not perform or divulge an admission. After the pregnancy her mother was shipped off to a mental facility of Astell where eventually she became a novitiate of little consequence. Chess however was catered for elsewhere.

_{3}_ Chess’ normal hair colouring was an extreme length of dusty blonde curls.


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## ledded (Oct 28, 2004)

Very interesting, I appreciate the style you are going for (and achieving) here.  Keep it up, I am eager to see how this works out, but kudos for what you have done so far.

On a side note/hijack,  our group also stays away from the "Hi, I'm the new guy!  Ok let's go!" routine.  It seems that every time a new character joins one of our long standing parties, not only is there quite a bit of roleplay, suspicion, and give-and-take, but often downright hazing until they get used to the new guy.  It's a weird dynamic that we've just fallen into, but it's worked out pretty fun.


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## Herremann the Wise (Oct 29, 2004)

*{5} Djinn, Wine and You*

To Boojum,

Thanks for reading my Story, I hope you're enjoying. It's amazing how just a simple post can lift the spirits and make the writing worthwhile.
Thank you again, look forward to reading more of yours.

To Ledded,

I'd noticed from other Story Hour posts that you are an avid reader. However and funnily enough, I thought that my work was not quite up to scratch as I had not received a response from you -   or I suppose a lot of people for that matter. As such, your reply and compliments are most sincerely appreciated. As much as I try to write for myself, receiving feedback is still gold. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the twists and turns that are slowly getting revealed and unravelled.

As you say, when you have a very long-standing campaign, it deserves more thought and respect than to just throw in a character. Our group's would be very similar in this respect.

Thanks again.

***​
The day had been hectic for Merle, Innkeeper of Gumbil’s Turm in preparation for the evening’s entertainment. An influx of guests and unusual patrons had precipitated the need for a variety of activities, undertakings and exertions. A troupe of dwarven stonemasons fresh from Peronsil, a group of adventurers from Ormond, a rabble of men calling themselves philosophers, a small pilgrimage of the Doldasrin sect and a churlish group of young nobles had all decided upon Gumbil’s Turm for temporary accommodation. In addition, dozens of other guests including a recently arrived levitating wizard, a High Priest of Terrefin and a noble dressed as if he were the Emperor himself were invading the commons room. The stables once capable of catering for an entire cavalry regiment were beginning to fill as well in expectation of the evening performance of one of the most spectacular Bards ever to be seen in Nethendawe. 

Chess’ performances were legendary; filled with pathos, tragedy and unexpected joy and triumph. To hear her voice in song or tale was to be loosed into a world of imagination and fantasy; where true and gallant heroes shielded the innocent, struck down the foe and rescued the damsel. Her talent was extraordinary. And also decidedly expensive, difficult to cater for and entirely too much trouble thought Merle at this particular juncture. Arguing with staff, placating disgruntled patrons and regulars, miscalculating stock requirements, taking delivery of unneeded items (the cooper had seen fit to deliver an order of barrels a week early) and generally encountering three problems for every one solved; Merle, his wife, his mistress and the dozen other staff who worked the Turm were spent. And the sun had still not set and the performance was at least five hours distant. 

At this point the levitating wizard hovered towards the bar where Merle was chiding one of his serving wenches. Distracted by the wizard’s advance, he dismissed the serving girl with an impatient gesture as his bushy grey eyebrows took in the unusual image before him. Merle himself was a large man with a head of shoulder length hair that was once an ash blonde in his youth; it had since become an uncomfortable grey. An extravagantly full moustache combined with a middle age paunch lent some evidence that he spent the majority of his time behind an Inn’s bar_{1}_. Currently, Merle was not in the best of moods.

“What do you want?” 
“I was seeking accommodation and in fact your best room for this evening.”
Merle just stared at the hovering little man. He almost laughed.
“In addition” Lucifus added, “I’ll be requiring suitable lodging for my staff_{2}_ and concubines, preferably within the vicinity of my own apartment.”
Merle was gobsmacked.
As if sensing a slight reticence on the innkeeper’s part, Lucifus continued, “It will also be for an unfixed period. The duration of my business at the moment is indeterminate.”

Now Merle had dealt with strange and difficult requests before, but this floating magician was asking the near impossible. In addition, Merle had recently been mulcted by a mage much to his financial disadvantage. His response was curt.
“No.”
“No? 
“No. I have neither the rooms nor currently the inclination. I suggest your going elsewhere.”
Lucifus cultivated his most ingenious look and unctuous tone, “I can make you rich. Very rich in fact. I am sure you are needing to counterbalance your costs for this evening.” [Lucifus could see he had the Innkeep’s attention now]. “I am certain we could reach an agreement to mutual satisfaction.”
By now, the exchange had garnered quite an audience.
Gruffly, Merle responded, “Exactly how much money are you saying? I can name quite a figure.”

Lucifus at this point started incanting a dweomer of his highest valance. He pointed to the ground just to the side of his own position and with a distinctive whoosh a massive human-like figure appeared. Ten foot tall with arms crossed, skin the colour of deepest ebony and its base replaced by a misty swirling vapour; the figure projected a most daunting appearance. Lucifus’s manner was nonchalant.

“My Djinni friend Mathuzalas may only maintain his presence upon the prime for a few moments. However, I believe he will be more than willing to assist in regards to your financial investments.” [Fear was most obviously evident upon Merle’s face. In fact the entire premises had completely stopped, every eye transfixed upon the appearance of the massive Djinni]. “I have heard that your range and selection of wine at the moment is somewhat limited. I also see that there are a number of fresh kegs carelessly placed at the rear behind you [Merle fearfully swung around, seeing the ten empty barrels]. They are empty I assume [Merle nodded timid assent]. In which case then I will now attempt to persuade Mathuzalas to his best efforts.”

Lucifus began instructing_{3}_ the Djinni to perform a conjuration that would create a very sizeable amount of wine. The Djinii’s voice boomed as its arms swept in a circle, finishing the magic with a flourish and a single nod of its massive head: its black-haired topknot bobbled jauntily. The kegs settled heavily behind the bar, full to bursting.

“May I suggest you test the wine_{4}_ good innkeeper? Mathuzalas like all masters of their craft appreciates considered feedback and critique.”
Merle looked around at the now completely full barrels of good red wine in somewhat of a daze. Lucifus seeing an appropriate receptacle hovered over and scooped a selection from a keg missing its lid. He handed it to Merle. Merle still in shock at the surreal events he had just witnessed took a moment before proffering a trembling hand. Lucifus nodded at Merle, the gesture reminding him to take a sip. The Djinni at this point bent forward, its gaze intensifying as it raised an eyebrow towards the now shaking innkeeper. Whether more of the liquid dribbled down his shuddering chins or throat was uncertain. A moment of silence ensued, the innkeeper too frightened to speak. Lucifus assisted, “I suppose it might be for the more advanced palate?”

Merle nervously nodded before finally finding his voice, his chins jiggling, “excellent… marvellous… outstanding in fact…” [Mathuzalas snapped his head towards Lucifus expecting the translation]. Lucifus spoke again in a language incomprehensible. The Djinni straightened like a peacock, a toothy grin splitting its enormous face. It was obviously quite proud.

“I thank you Mathuzalas for your fine efforts” Lucifus responded as the Djinni left the material with a small, vaporous and cyclonic whirl. The room had been stunned into absolute and complete astonishment. Everywhere, eyes looked upon Lucifus, amazed at the miracle_{5}_ they had just witnessed. People were too scared to break the silence as they awaited the outcome of the exchange. With the exit of the genie, Merle’s disposition had returned only somewhat closer to his normal demeanour. He shifted around slowly and cast an evaluative eye at the barrels behind him. His gaze dulled ever so slightly as his brain attempted to perform calculations surpassing his ability. With his mouth somewhat agape, he faced Lucifus, “Can I take you to your rooms sir?”

***​
_{1}_ Most Innkeepers in Nethendawe and indeed across Urth and many of the known Realms were normally identified by a lack of follicles upon their crown. While not bald, Merle at least got the fat part right.

_{2}_ Lucifus had a variety of companions who he took with him when travelling from place to place.

_Winter_: His raven familiar for over twenty years. (Lucifus himself is thirty four years of age).
_Tunthi_: A Dermen, half-orc barbarian companion of Lucifus’s for almost two years.
_Joald_: The dwarven librarian of his enormous catalogue. (This is not his real name. He instead had styled the pseudonym after a myth involving a sea titan who reputedly pulled half a continent into the ocean. Lucifus thought the fanciful moniker ostentatious and gave the dwarf strange looks whenever he introduced himself.)
_Melancthe_: One of Lucifus’s concubines. Mysterious in appearance, she has an eccentric beauty that has appealed to Lucifus for nearly ten years. She has numerous and a wide variety of piercings from the tasteful to the truly disturbed. (I can remember in one missive I sent to Paul the DM, I described her as the ‘Classic wizard’s groupie’.)
_Suldrun_: Another of Lucifus’s concubines. She is also attractive but somewhat shy preferring solo encounters with Lucifus rather than some of the more unconventional groupings Lucifus enjoys.
_Madouc_: Another concubine with fiery red hair.
[As a side note, I could not help but name Lucifus’s companions after the primary female characters in Jack Vance’s Lyonesse Series. The more astute Vancian scholar will identify the capricious use of Joald too.]

_{3}_ As an Alienist, Lucifus plumbs the far reaches of the planar cosmos when summoning various creatures into being. As such, their language use is very much different from their projected appearance.
[Paul the DM ruled that the only way Lucifus could talk to his summonings was through the use of a Tongues spell: something Lucifus had made permanent upon his person.]

_{4}_ Djinn, Wine and You.
Djinn can cast Create Wine rather than the more typical Create Water. As 20th level casters, they not only conjure massive quantities of the stuff (40 Gallons) but due to a general policy of our group that the higher the caster, the better the effect, Mathuzalas is able to Create Wine of almost deific quality. Lucifus due to his selective use of this ability (he had only just discovered the trick) had thus gifted the Gumbil’s Turm with well over 10,000gp worth of wine.

_{5}_ While magic is reasonably common in this world, higher-level accomplishments are extraordinarily rare. As such, Lucifus’s activity on this day was viewed as a modern day miracle. In fact, years from now, The Gumbil’s Turm would still be remembered as the only Inn in Nethendawe possessing wine crafted from a Djinni. Its notoriety increased manyfold.


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## Herremann the Wise (Nov 2, 2004)

*A Perfect Performance*

_Later that evening..._

***​
And so after earlier events, the atmosphere of Gumbil’s Turm livened up in expectation, rumour and excitement. The Turm had undergone numerous renovations across its vast history; expanding and contracting several times from its original design. Currently, it was split into several sections. The downstairs taproom or commons was the bar where refreshments, beverages and various libations were imbibed by the Turm’s diverse clientele. Immediately above this were a wide variety of rooms and apartments catering to a range of lodgers from the casual guest to the ensconced tenant. To the rear of these facilities were the massive stables once favoured by the Emperor’s best. In between the old stables and the opposing side of the actual bar was an area converted into a massive hall were ‘longtables’ ran the length of its span reaching to a small stage area set aside for performances such as this evenings. The roof ranged almost three stories above the floor lending the hall an open atmosphere that most of the local nobility looked upon with jealousy_{1}_. Normally, the Turm would play host to meetings of various groups and assemblies and thus its primary hall was used for such purposes. At this stage of the evening, most people had progressed from the taproom to the main hall’s vaunted interior, awaiting the feted performance of the bard Chess.

The floor of the hall was nearing capacity – all seats along the trenchers and longtables were filled with a variety of patrons swilling mugs of ale, horns of mead as well as goblets of an expensive new wine currently causing speculation and rumour. As the shoulder room decreased, several of the more agile spectators found elevated points on the walls where they could view_{2}_ the Bard and her performance. At the moment, several halflings who had been part of the audience were creating their own mischief upon the stage much to the revelry of those in the hall. Where as the caper had started with the juggling of some impromptu skittles (empty ale flagons) between the five of them, it had since progressed into a full-scale acrobatic revue. They were currently trying to stand on top of each other as many halflings foot to shoulder as possible. Unfortunately due to alcohol and a lack of co-ordination, they were struggling to get more than two halflings high. Gambling ensued to raucous laughter and moaned chagrin as bets succeeded and failed. The outcry when four halflings maintained a balanced pose broke into laughter when it collapsed in a heap of arms, hairy feet and grimacing faces. Several arguments also broke out as to whether the arrangement had been established for the required duration. All in all, the atmosphere was most festive.

The appearance of a new person on stage had the halflings scattering to join a drunken sprawl to the side of the platform. Dressed in ridiculous pantaloons and a dreadful jarring of colours, the lute player started playing a few randomly selected chords whilst adding a stringy voice in chorus. The crowd quietened. At first there was the odd comment followed by a few hoots and jeers. As the musician continued uninhibited, the catcalls eventually dissolved into all out heckling and booing. A few objects were then thrown but it was only when an almost full clay pitcher made satisfactory impact with the lutist’s nose that the crowd’s criticism was heeded; his playing stopped and the crowd cheered all the harder. The crimson contents of the broken pitcher had splattered and soaked the man’s lemon; mauve and cyanic garments as he cried out in reproach. Several more items were cast his way before he ran from the stage, the crowd cheering his exit harder still. Lucifus’s entry into the hall and his floating ascent twenty feet above everyone else at the tables went largely unnoticed. Several servants cleared the stage.

There was further movement upon the stage as the lights around the hall were dimmed. The crowd went quiet once more before bursting out in rapturous applause, the sound drowning out all possible conversation. All eyes were staring directly at the newly arrived bard. The figure of Chess struck her signature pose, her hands delicately poised above her head, her face looking solemnly skyward her body slightly coiled around and legs demurely crossed, all showed her figure to extreme advantage. To say her outfit left nothing to the imagination would overdress her. Every inch of her statuesque body could be seen almost without hindrance. The taut layer of sky blue gauze that was her dress concealed nothing; it was only the slight flickering shadows that obscured her precise form. Her beautiful hair of faintest blonde, its extreme and gorgeous length enhanced by numerous delicate curls was gathered over her silken right shoulder before lightly tumbling behind her as her head lifted ever so slightly. 

Her gaze continued skyward, her visage that of an angelic siren. As her body slowly turned to face the crowd (causing more ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ as her dress tightened further) the most divine tone could be heard, the note so virginally pure as to cause ones heartbeat to cease in anticipation. Her bluest eyes shined aloft as a tear graced her soft and pale cheek, the sonance speaking of heartache and loss as it resonated across the entire length of the now still hall. The audience was utterly spellbound; breaths held waiting for the note to finish its gradual descent. Her arms spread as she continued the vibrato revealing two elegantly graceful and perfectly poised breasts, each pushing against her costume in unison. The effect upon the spectators was immediate as the note changed into song, her solo voice in answer to the hush of the crowd. The performance continued.

The clear and exquisitely radiant features of Chess defined a range of emotions throughout the first half of the show. Lucifus looked on from above utterly impressed with her flawless performance and form. It had been almost a year since he had seen her perform and never to an audience as large or rapturously disposed as this. He looked around as they swayed and swooned, laughed and cheered, cried and wept. He did not wish to seek any magic used, wishing and holding to the purity of the performance. Any magic used to augment her display would have been superfluous anyway, her performance purest perfection to begin with. At the climactic closure of the first session and the beginning of an interlude, Lucifus felt a tingling of magic reach his senses. It was Chess’ frightened voice:

“He is not here and I’m wary that my plans have been discovered … I’ve seen several people I don’t like, Primmas Rose chief amongst them…
“However, the show must go on – meet me directly at the conclusion. Please!”

Lucifus instantly scanned the crowd using his most basic divinations. His features pulsed in anger as nothing was revealed leaving only his concerns. Primmas Rose was a name only quietly spoken by a few. He was a most deadly assassin from Peronsil. Someone obviously wanted Chess very dead.

***​
_{1}_ Architecture and building had declined from its heyday several centuries earlier. Time and expense normally precluded the nobility from creating additional majestic feats of architecture to their demesnes. (Demar’s new facility was looked upon as a novel and major achievement – the fact that it’s walls were being magically created in the main was also a source of amazement and dare it be said envy.)

_{2}_ Merle while proficient in the job of ordering his staff around was in the main an avaricious dullard totally lacking in imagination. A more resourceful yet equally avaricious person of business might have conceived of a dress circle in the main hall that could more easily divest one’s patrons of their finances. Merle being Merle however, no upstairs platform had yet been proposed or conceived.


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## ledded (Nov 3, 2004)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> To Ledded,
> 
> I'd noticed from other Story Hour posts that you are an avid reader. However and funnily enough, I thought that my work was not quite up to scratch as I had not received a response from you -  or I suppose a lot of people for that matter.



Oh, I *try* to give most every story hour at least a little read when it pops up, but unfortunately the people I work for actually expect me to *work* every now and then. The nerve of these guys. Anyway, I love reading short stories and story hours, and I'll even print a couple out if I'm going on a long weekend just to check out when I have time. I'm a voracious, and fast, reader. It also helps me keep my own writing honed, if you could call a superheroic-bowling ball "honed" . But I do let some slip by without notice for extended periods of time sometimes, and I'll discover a really good one that has been staring me in the face without being read for months (recently tripped across The_Universe's story hour that way).



> As such, your reply and compliments are most sincerely appreciated. As much as I try to write for myself, receiving feedback is still gold. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the twists and turns that are slowly getting revealed and unravelled.



Feedback is often the food that keeps non-paid writers writing. The more I get, the more I write, and I like to let people know what I think if they've done something that stirs a comment from me. So you're welcome.



			
				Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> As you say, when you have a very long-standing campaign, it deserves more thought and respect than to just throw in a character. Our group's would be very similar in this respect.
> 
> Thanks again.



Oh, we do this even on one-shot campaigns where one player shows up just a couple hours late into the start. But we just seem to enjoy being a-holes to the new guy


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## Herremann the Wise (Nov 9, 2004)

*The Chess Situation*

Thanks ledded for your continued reading patronage as well as others enjoying the story.

Rather dramatic events have happened in game which will shape this Story Hour in weeks to come. For the moment though, we continue to leave Sir Herland Ramus's response to Lucifus's revelation waiting as we examine further the Chess situation. Suffice to say, there is a lot more happening behind the scenes than is being told.

The following update traverses three scenes that should light up the dramatic conclusion soon to be told.
The web of intrigue has been firmly cast.

***​
_About ten minutes later…_

The crowd cheered precluding all other sound as Chess stepped back upon the stage. 

The second half of Chess’ evening performance whether by design or circumstance was comparatively subdued against the dramatic initial section. Rather than the majestic ballads, songs and airs of the first half of the show, Chess’ repertoire extended into various tales, storytelling, sagas, episodes and yarns. She had changed into a more conservative skirt with accompanying fine bodice, her hair more orderly and collected: almost regal. She started with stories humourous and comedic, ranging from the most heroic to the blue: the crowd cheering and laughing. Legends were then spoken of lands far away; daring and gallant characters and exotic places and locales all coming alive on the stage before the massive audience. She then ventured into one of her better-known epics, the audience becoming stilled from their previous raucousness. For Lucifus however, he barely took in a word. He did his best not to appear restive or over alert. Unfortunately, he could not locate anyone with obviously ill intent, the audience were once again spellbound by her silken words. He considered communicating his own message to Tunthi but thought better of it than having the half-orc enter the hall_{1}_. In the end, he woodenly listened to the rest of the show, wary of sudden movements. It was only at the end that he intended to make sure he was positioned where he was needed.

As Chess finished her performance with dramatic panache, élan and flamboyant flourishes, the lights across the breadth of the hall abruptly extinguished. Almost expecting as much, Lucifus travelled immediately [dimension doored] to the stage where several figures were rapidly moving around in the darkness. One of these figures sensing something belted the floating wizard over the head with a loose hand while several grunts were heard from the others tripping over each other. The unmistakable twang of a loaded crossbow being fired was the last distinguishable sound Lucifus heard before the dull uproar and unknowing cheer of the audience washed over the stage.

Impulsively and still smarting from the blow, Lucifus sped straight up but with no way of producing light he could not judge the events that had just happened. He just saw a series of shadowed forms below. There had been no scream and the confused figures below seemed not to have found their quarry given their confused movements. Nowhere could Lucifus sense where Chess might be, even using his ability to see those invisible to the naked eye. She had disappeared as if she was never there. Was she still in danger? Could there be more than one party after her? Lucifus was torn as to what to do next. He had agreed to wait for her but how could he now? Now was not the time for meekness and to abandon Chess to her fate. Lucifus, motivated by the performance had a surge of heroic inspiration and acted upon it immediately.

***​
_At about this time elsewhere…_

Darkness pervaded the backstreets of Nethendawe. The area was additionally suffused with the odour of too many people in too little space. The stink of refuse and stench of excrement addressed two lantern carrying figures walking down the street. The lamps that each carried reflected their differing movements: one with a steady walk and light, the other with cautious and staggered steps, the light dancing and flickering in random patterns. The two watchmen: Farris the hardened veteran and Vincent, the new and green novice were investigating a report of unsatisfactory activity in the vicinity. Farris assumed that the overly vigilant information was nothing more than local carousing. However, he thought to show Vincent the new boy around and besides, his coinpouch had been substantially lightened and he wanted to get away from the gambling of the watchhouse before his funds were totally depleted. For all his years and experience in the watch, Farris even admitted to himself that as a gambler he was atrocious.

He cast an evaluative eye over Vincent. He was young, barely sixteen years old, and a farmer’s boy in the big city. Barely a week in the job, he was also as skittish as a sewer rat around the senior watchman. In fact the nerves of the lad were getting to Farris, he was too green although he did have some size to him. He might be good in a fight. Have to see he supposed.

It was then that Farris stopped.
“What ya stopping for sir?” Vincent asked.
“Shhh…up ahead” Farris pointed to a building. “A bunch of urchins scattering like the devil himself was chasing them. Out of that house me thinks.”
Vincent hadn’t been looking but he nodded anyway. Farris just shook his head. Some young’ens needed more than time. As much as people would like to think they were up for the job, the Watch required a special type of individual. If they were to last an amount of time anyway. The two advanced as before to the long disused premises.

Vincent shone his light inside where the door had been off of its hinges for some time and the windows to either side smashed in. The wooden house still concealed darkness within its frame. Vincent did not seem to know what he was looking for. Farris however did as he pointed to the floor, “Yep. This is where they ran out of.” Farris had highlighted the fresh sodden marks on what was left of the wooden planks making up the floor. He shined his lamp illuminating the rear. A doorway led through to a backroom.

Vincent immediately went to advance but was held back by Farris. “Now lets do this orderly like. There might be someone in there who would like nothing more than opening a big hole in your belly”. Both drew their short swords, Farris using it to point to where he wanted Vincent to move – to the side of the rear doorway.
“Come out if you’re in there. We won’t hurt ya.” Farris waited several moments for a response. Not receiving one, he stepped forward and nodded to Vincent. Vincent urgently moved through into the darkness before realising that the boss wanted him to shine the light inside, not barge in waving his sword. He accidentally dropped the sword whilst trying to swap hands with the lamp, the weapon making a dull thud on the floor. The lantern illuminated the backroom before being dropped as well with a crash of splintered glass.

“You fool what are you doing…” Farris’s words were instantly stopped by what he saw with his own lantern. “By the holy light of Galasso,” he swore. Vincent swung around and heaved his guts in the dark corner. In front of them was a body missing its head. A closer look revealed the head on a disused shelf having leaked and dripped its fluids over the well-dressed body below it. The body had been pilfered of its wealth, missing buttons, pouches and equipment. The fabrics and weave however spoke of the nobility. A look back to the head above revealed further violence. The nose had been violently severed revealing bone – half the face missing in the process. Identification would be difficult. Farris turned to the youngster who had by now gushed up his three daily meals. It was going to be a long night.

***​
_And again, in the past (about one to two weeks)..._

The office room showed the trappings of extreme wealth with the gaudish use of gold upon the many adornments, finials and embellishments within its interior. The massive desk was the feature piece of the room although the beautiful surrounding bookcases of rarest teak glistened like honey, a light above casting its rays upon the numerous books burdening their shelves. In such extreme grandeur, the presence of anyone would simply be lost amongst the finery. All except for Gregor Mysellkoten, head and housemaster of the Mysellkoten trading house – the richest in Nethendawe and possibly anywhere along the mighty Beltrates. His features were clean and fine, his gaze clear and his demeanour of acuity and perception. Middle aged, he was a master merchant, the fifth generation of his family. Currently, he had stood up beckoning Jerigar_{2}_ his assistant and accomplice to follow him. Touching a panel that magically retreated out of view; he led his companion down a series of stairs to a basement. This was the room ominously named the ‘dungeon’. It was the seat of the most important decisions and deals made by the Mysellkoten House.

It was Gregor, also known simply as The Baron who spoke first. “I understand your family is well. Peronsil is always nice this time of year.”
“Yes sir. The fashions, fetes and fairs are to my wife’s liking. My daughter is burgeoning upon that time where adolescence transforms into young adulthood. She seeks a fine match.”
“A beautiful and well-favoured child. I assume there are several suitors of choice?”
“There are several indeed. Some of which are not to my wife’s expectations nor my own. I do not know whose wrath is worse.”
The Baron raised an eyebrow at Jerigar’s subtle humour, the mannerism his own indication of expressing amusement. He responded. “I feel more sorry for the successful applicant. He has entirely too much to live up to.”
Jerigar simply laughed, “Indeed…I wish my daughter a child again, not the princess she wishes to become.”
The two smiled.

Jerigar changed the subject. “How is business? It has been a good few weeks since I have seen you. Have you sealed the deal with the Smith’s Guild in Keryl?”
The Baron nodded, “Yes our flow of funds increases suitably. As to the Keryl situation, Grand Master Kluge has seen fit to accede to some but not all of my demands. If he continues to be obstreperous, I may even see fit for you to pay him an encouraging visit. Such things however will have to wait as I have dealings for you elsewhere. Here in Nethendawe in fact.”
“Nothing of too greater exertion?”
“Not for you at any rate. The House of Elarayan_{3}_ has seen fit to stall particular payments much to my displeasure. In fact they rashly flout my stipulations heedless as if the consequences were nothing. I need you to instruct them a stern lesson. Something dramatic that other Nethenese Houses may pay attention to in case they also feel we are lax in our provisions and requisites.”

“And the salient points of instruction regarding this lesson?”
“Two minor functionaries specific to the case and a senior assistant whose judgment has been recently clouded by a local entertainer.” Gregor Mysellkoten proffered a scroll to Jerigar from inside his robes. “Adequate details are included. I suggest careful work rather than anything too expedient. The case may be somewhat delicate.”
“Sir, I understand your directives with sufficiency. I will report back when suitable.”
The two men stood together silently for a moment before nodding in farewell; the dire dealings conducted with a casual air of normalcy, as if such things were mundane and the humdrum of regular business.

***​
_{1}_ Currently, Tunthi was being entertained by two wenches whose greed vastly surpassed their discernment. Tunthi had been involved in several scuffles earlier so Lucifus planned to keep him out of the way and occupied for the evening.

_{2}_ Jerigar of Mysellkoten performed many functions for the Mysellkoten Trading House. Perhaps of greatest importance but least well known was his duality as the assassin Primmas Rose. Primmas Rose was an enigma to many in Nethendawe, Peronsil and beyond; a name mentioned to provoke reaction. Unfortunately, Chess was one of the few who knew his real identity, a circumstance she would soon suffer for.

_{3}_ The Elarayan house was a relatively new trading house whose commercial interests had increased significantly over the past ten years. The current Housemaster was Teroncé, an avaricious man of deft mercantile acumen. Interestingly enough he was also the blood uncle of Chess, not that he knew of such at this immediate point. He had banished his sister, (Chess’ mother) over twenty years ago from any dealings with the family. She was left destitute and a pauper in Peronsil. He figured her dead.


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## Herremann the Wise (Nov 11, 2004)

Hello Again,

The following short post will hopefully fill in a few pieces of the puzzle awaiting the dramatic conclusion to be posted soon. Apologies if you need to reread previous posts to make full and complete sense of the following.

***​
_The Early Evening of Chess’ Dramatic Performance at Gumbil’s Turm
About three hours before her appearance upon the stage… _ 

After a week of gauging attitudes, routines and the disposition of the principals in his deadly and dramatic arrangement, Jerigar (Primmas Rose) leant against the wall of the shack casually surveying the first “Act” of his work. The primary thrust of his current engagement had gone as per plan. He was now ready for the “Encore”. 

The plan was of an intricacy and complexity that only one of his skill and élan could encompass all the elements involved for the eventual and desired effect. In one fell swoop; he had destroyed the primary players of the miscreant trading arm of the Elarayan House as per instructions; deflected blame towards Chess whose precipitant murder would reflect culpability back towards the Elarayan house and thus and most importantly for him, eliminate the only person_{1}_ who could link Primmas Rose to Jerigar of Mysellkoten.

Unfortunately, he had used the Bard’s skills in a previous operation in Peronsil. She was well placed at the time and the effort saved him considerable difficulty on a separate matter. In the process however, she had been given circumstances to make a link between his two personalities, a situation he knew she would have connected together. While he could do little about it at the time, he knew that he would eventually have to nullify the possibility of his duality becoming known. Thus, Chess would die this evening.

Within the scroll handed to him by The Baron were details of Gareth of Elarayan’s movements and current amour with the performer. On further discrete investigation, he was surprised to discover her motives – revenge for her mother’s and by cause and effect her own banishment from the House. Indeed she intended to somehow bring the House to its knees through some scandal_{2}_ or another. The fact that she was a bastard of the House was certainly fuel to be used at a later point. Cunningly however, he had already used this information. He had expressed these details in fullest detail in a missive to Teroncé Elarayan. Using one of his spies neatly placed in the house, he had learned of Teroncé’s immediate fury and then the housemaster’s own plans to take the performer prisoner for a no doubt grisly end this evening. He would of course beat such efforts to the punch with his superior abilities and thus the blame for each of the murders would neatly be placed in each other’s court – Chess’ on House Elarayan and House Elarayan’s on Chess_{3}_. For the moment however, he left the scene_{4}_ quickly to make preparations for his own performance this evening.

***​
_{1}_ While Jerigar knew that Gregor Mysellkoten and two others of the House had their suspicions, The Baron and his two advisors politely failed to acknowledge the alias in Jerigar’s presence. 

_{2}_ While he did not yet have the details of this scandal – Gareth had appallingly spilled all he knew [Under the circumstances, that is an incredibly poor pun by me the author] for no further enlightenment – Jerigar would need to discern Chess’ methods, devices and strategy before her death.

_{3}_ Jerigar had neatly sculpted a note to the local watchhouse that would be delivered later this evening making her supposed culpability known.

_{4}_ The two bodies of Heron and Saul were deposited underneath the planking currently supporting the headless corpse of Gareth.


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## Mahtave (Nov 12, 2004)

Herreman,  I thought I would drop a line as well, this is a great story hour.  At first I was a little taken aback at the length of the first post, but I continued on.  I am glad that I did!.

To think that all of this is happening (well, actually happened) in the past before Lucifus even joined the group he was now a member of.  If the other members have as colorful a past as a certain warlock, this will be an entertaining story hour indeed.

On a more OOC vein, what level are the players at?  I can assume that they are not the run-of-the-mill newbies, but at the same time I a mnot sure how far up the ladder they are.  Just curious.

My kudos to you.


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## Herremann the Wise (Nov 14, 2004)

Mahtave said:
			
		

> Herreman,  I thought I would drop a line as well, this is a great story hour.  At first I was a little taken aback at the length of the first post, but I continued on.  I am glad that I did!.




Thanks Mahtave for the extended response, it's nice to think that you are enjoying this enough to give such considered feedback. Unfortunately, the first post most likely was too long and has caused many to bail early. I've tried to keep updates to a reasonable length since then. Live and learn 



			
				Mahtave said:
			
		

> To think that all of this is happening (well, actually happened) in the past before Lucifus even joined the group he was now a member of.  If the other members have as colorful a past as a certain warlock, this will be an entertaining story hour indeed.




As I was saying to Ledded, this game has been going since and even before in a couple of cases 3rd Edition. As such, to just turn up on the day to roll up a new character is simply not a consideration; at least for me anyway. Various members of the group have asked me "why can't you just play a 'normal' character" but that would not be quite as much fun. Interestingly enough, my old character (he-that-shall-not-be-named) is still in the picture somewhat [He was involved in a very interesting moment last session]. I'm glad because a lot of time and effort went into him - you thought Lucifus Cray was extreme. 
The other characters have very detailed backgrounds too. Detailed but maybe not quite as extreme.



			
				Mahtave said:
			
		

> On a more OOC vein, what level are the players at?  I can assume that they are not the run-of-the-mill newbies, but at the same time I a mnot sure how far up the ladder they are.  Just curious.
> 
> My kudos to you.




There's a fairly broad range of people in our group. I suppose I'm the "youngest" (aside from Eddie) as although I've played on and off since the red box (I still remember that dragon), I only joined the group about six or seven years ago. I've DMed several campaigns, one of which I hope to turn into an actual novel one day.

Dave (who plays Nemhan) has been playing since 1st Ed. although I think it would be fair to say he is the master of 2nd Ed. and the Forgotten Realms in particular. We affectionately call any game he DM's a "Dave Game". This means that the amount of Magic Items in the game borders upon the ridiculous in number and power. I still remember my first game with him when my character tried to grab a hand out of a chest to have it replace his own, give him Titan strength and be defended by one of seven dragons. Never let it be said that anyone _ever_ gets bored in a Dave Game.

Stu (who plays Demar) has been playing and DMIng for as long as Dave (if not longer). Stu's the master at working background and story effects into a campaign. He has (along with Dave, Paul and Eddie's) a magnificent set of miniatures that we utilise. When we play, Stu and I are normally fairly competitive in certain departments.

Maree (Stu's wife who plays Rebecca) is fairly new to the caper but loves getting in amongst it. She is the only player who is not a DM too.

Justin (who plays Titus) is most probably the best out of all of us. His roleplaying is so quick and to the point. He is the master at staying in character. In addition, he plays a Rogue very very well.

Eddie (who plays Father Brian) is a recent addition to our group who loves RPing. He normally DM's for his own group. He has certainly had a bit of fun - I suppose we really throw ourselves into our characters.

and finally there is the DM of this campaign:

Paul. The world that I write about here has been his creation for over 25 years. He is the most experienced out of all of us and encourages a DM hands off approach. Still, he enjoys himself when he rolls criticals against us. However, perhaps one of the funnier moments was when he had spent weeks painting up this absolutely brilliant Nalfeshnee (man was it good) only to have it decapitated by my Paladin (although the roll for it was performed by Stu - the irony there was amazing, I still chuckle now) in its first outing.

Anyway and altogether, I'd say most of us are fairly experienced with Pauly being the standout. I hope you keep reading and enjoying - I'm three sessions behind currently with enough room for about ten updates (our sessions normally go for between 10 and 12 hours). I'm being a little indulgent with some of the background stuff but there are reasons that will be obvious soon.

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise

PS: There will be a special and significant update in the next few days.


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## Herremann the Wise (Nov 16, 2004)

*Checkmate - Part I*

_In the Great Hall of Gumbil’s Turm at the Immediate Conclusion of Chess’ Performance…_

The flat plunge of darkness enshrouded the expanse of the hall as a voice whispered urgently in Chess’ ear “We must escape immediately, they have come to kill you.” The speaker’s hands grabbed her and pushed her towards the side door before she felt a twinge of magic, as she was instantly pushed_{1}_ into the corridor beyond. She looked behind her at two figures that had run through the doorway carrying short swords onto the darkened stage beyond before turning to see her rescuer. It was Primmas Rose.

He spoke with exigency, “If you value your life Chess, I suggest you follow me as closely as you can.” Primmas Rose swung around without looking to see if she followed. As confused as she was, she did not wish to tarry. She followed at her best speed, or at least as best as her outfit would allow. A thought was trying to penetrate her consciousness but the drama of the quick exit and her trailing of Primmas Rose would not let it surface. She followed him down a set of stairs that led deep into the bowels of the Turm. There was little light except from the occasional torch that fluttered dramatically as the two went past. They stopped for a moment as Primmas’s careful fingers traced the line of the wall besides several crates. With a push it gave way, allowing entrance to a secret chamber beyond. He ushered her through as he waited looking for any signs of hostile pursuit.

She looked into the chamber illuminated by two lanterns. A table, two chairs, an unlit candle and a selection of fruit waited patiently. She looked at Rose in surprise, giving him a questioning look as she went through. He closed the door firmly behind her with a click. Chess looked at the man, his economy of movement, his dashing features and his current cordial and courteous mannerisms. He lit the candle and motioned for her to sit.

“And so what do I owe the pleasure of your company master assassin.”
“Please good lady. Such indelicate words sound so course coming from your velvet voice.”
She waited anyway for an answer as her eyes glanced the fruit. She picked up a choice ripened persimmon as her blue eyes were cast once more at the man. He smiled. Poisoning was not his way at any rate.
“No thank you for your rescuing? I’m quite surprised. I thought you might have been a little more… appreciative… pleasant even.”
“Come on Primmas Rose… if I may name you such. I’m sure your motives extend past sharing an evening repast with me.”
“Indeed they do. But for the moment, please rest. Enjoy the fruit. Your face is slightly peaked if I may be so rude.”
Chess looked at him while she collected several more pieces. She could not explain or understand his motives, a situation not to her liking. He seemed at ease but that could mean anything.

“I suppose then you know who wished me ill this evening?” she asked, picking another berry.
“Yes, yes, a somewhat delicate matter from the sounds of it. I believe you have had recent dealings with House Elarayan. For some reason, the Housemaster has become a little upset with you.”
She looked at him carefully not wishing to say anything. Her suspicions in regards to her plan’s discovery seemed to be at the very least confirmed. Teroncé had obviously found out something but how? She focused back on Primmas and asked, “And how did you manage to find all this out, rescuing me with such exquisite timing.”

He paused before answering. “I was in town and heard several whispers here and there. Besides, I like you Chess. I like a woman who challenges the mind whilst being so very easy on the eye.” He gauged her demeanor before continuing, “I am however curious on a few matters. While we have the time and solitude, perhaps I could ask a query or two?”

She looked at him again but could sense nothing but urbane politeness. “I can see I have little choice, even if I wished to be silent.”
“Come now. I’m not entirely the ogre I’m made out to be; where as Teroncé would very easily suit such a repugnant category. No, I’m just somewhat curious as to the game you were playing that could lead to such an unfriendly reaction from him. There have of course been consequences that you may not yet have discovered. This afternoon in fact.”

Chess stopped eating. “What do you know? I believe you are trying to tease me now.”
Primmas Rose laughed. “I believe your little interlude with Gareth of Elarayan was discovered. In all honesty I thought you more discrete?”
“I was discrete,” she frowned.
“Obviously not enough.” He let the words linger a moment before adding, “Things seem to have gone somewhat downhill for Gareth. Apparently now there is some distance between his head and his shoulders.”
“What has happened? What has Teroncé done?”
“As you well know, Teroncé is a determined individual when given cause and particularly stubborn to boot. Perhaps he wished to teach the senior master of his Trading arm a lesson.” Primmas Rose then directed his most penetrating gaze at her, “Or perhaps his thoughts went beyond that. Perhaps he was disturbed at the actions of a wayward and long lost niece?”

Chess bolted upright as Primmas Rose instantly drew his legendary double crossbow up to her throat.

“Come now Chess. Don’t get all excited. That’s it sit back down, nice and slowly. I believe there are still some persimmons left to your taste.” He paused. “Now where were we? That’s it, you were telling me about your little amour with the noble but recently deceased Gareth. Truly, I thought such things against your inclinations_{2}_?”

Chess shivered in recognition. His tone was completely even and never wavering, the glistening tip of the crossbow bolt pointed at her equally resolute.
“Why are you asking? You seem to already know the answers.”
“Just so,” he laughed again. “Well allow me then to be more direct shall we. You have sensitive papers I believe that the good Housemaster would be significantly embarrassed by. For example, if they were well known, your Mother might have legal grounds for considerable financial redress. I believe he would wish them returned, with none the wiser.” Primmas Rose paused once more before tersely asking, “Give the papers_{3}_ to me if you please.”

“They are with my things. I would have to return to my room and…”
“No you will not as they are neatly secured in your bodice. Remove them and give them to me. Now!”
She thought of some sort of heroic resistance but knew as she looked at the bolt’s head that it would penetrate her before she had the chance for anything. She slowly reached inside her bodice but with annoyance realized that the parchment had travelled further down than what the tight bodice would give access to.

“I will have to loosen my corset to retrieve them if you don’t mind.” She pulled carefully at the laces loosening them giving at first ample view of her cleavage before releasing her bosom entirely. She looked to see if she had distracted him but unfortunately the crossbows orientation had not faltered. Curse the bastard but he was good. She slid her hand underneath her left breast where the parchment had relocated to, its shape moulded to her form. Chess pulled out the somewhat crumpled documents, warm to the touch.

“They are here,” she said as she placed the parchment upon the table. “Take them please and let me go.”
“Let you go? Whatever for my dear.” He reached over for the papers applying them carefully to the inside of his jacket. “The dark hours are but young and you still have several songs I wish to hear. I would be honoured to hear your final performance.”
Primmas Rose started to chuckle as he saw her features go pale with recognition; the blood totally lost from her face and neck.

“I won’t say a thing,” she rushed. “No one needs know of any of this. I will keep your secrets safe...”
“I think not young Chess. You are a singer and taleteller after all. I am not so trusting as to casually leave such a loose thread around any more.”
Chess was getting desperate now, anger warming her voice. “There is someone who will hunt you down. Know that with all clarity when he kills you.”
“Your wizard friend,” he laughed and pointed to the second bolt in his crossbow. “Your wizard friend will not be appreciating this bolt. It will guarantee him certain death_{4}_ let me assure you. However, I wish not to boast, it does not convey the image I normally like to present. While I would wish it otherwise, your death is unfortunately necessary. I hope you understand that there was no other way.”

Just as Chess was about to respond, a pulse of magic was suddenly felt in the room; a figure appeared in the corner; Chess reactively stood; Primmas Rose’s attention however had not swayed, drawing instantly his assassin’s dagger and plunging it deep into her throat: the entire movement too quick for the eye; the poison having already acted. Chess had not even seen the blow that killed her.

***​
_{1}_ Primmas Rose was wearing special boots imbued with a magic similar to the Shadowdancer’s “Shadow Jump” ability (like a limited dimension door). A Dimension Door normally requires a willing participant, which Chess was due to the initial exchange. They could be used three times per day for up to 20 feet at a time. This had been the second activation.

_{2}_ While Chess was perhaps the perfect vision of male lust, her own inclinations were also directed at the female gender. While she had slept with many men over the course of her career, she took no pleasure in it. Such joinings were purely business.

_{3}_ While Gareth had given him nothing, further thought and evaluation from Jerigar (Primmas Rose) had led his suspicions in a particular direction. A quick chat in the early evening with his Elarayan aide had resulted in the requisite information now being used against Chess. In some respects, Primmas Rose was very lucky to have stumbled across this information when he did, several threads of fate entwining at seemingly the correct instant. Primmas Rose had he known of this would have smiled – for him; there was no such thing as luck.

_{4}_ The second bolt in Primmas Rose’s double crossbow was a bolt of silencing that would enact on contact. The bead that made up the head of the bolt was designed to be dislodged inside the target’s body, rendering them incapable of most spell castings. Primmas Rose had planned for this contingency and knew the bolt would give him the time to make sure of the wizard’s death. The first bolt was standard lotus poison, capable of killing most people.


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## Herremann the Wise (Nov 17, 2004)

*Checkmate Part II*

It was like everything had stopped as Lucifus awaited the spell’s effect_{1}_ to finish transporting him to this place: his senses were impatiently aware; the fluttering lights in the cellar; the swirling shadows; the blindingly quick strike to Chess’ neck. He was too late.

Lucifus screamed in fury as he saw Chess’ form drop, her rich life’s blood streaming from her neck, down her chest and onto the ground as she then collapsed face first to the floor. This was followed by Lucifus’s scream of agony quickly cut short as a magical sphere of silence surrounded him completely. The missiles impact had vaulted him to the ground, making him momentarily lose control of his magical hovering. Time palsied as Lucifus looked down at the bolt penetrating his chest in between two ribs smashed to fragments. His black silk toga blossomed wetly around the shaft as he looked back up at the well-dressed man smiling at him. The man spoke words as his lips moved, their aural significance lost to Lucifus in the silence as pain coursed around his ribcage and up his spine. The bolt had penetrated deeply.

Primmas Rose spared not a glance at the crumpled body of Chess. His eyes instead fiercely held to Lucifus, the gladiatorial rush of victory making manic his features. He spoke a single animalistic word as he fired the other bolt at the now helpless and enfeebled wizard. Lucifus saw in slowest motion the bolt release, its trajectory set between his eyes. Lucifus’s head lurched back expecting the blow.

However, the bolt disappeared halfway between Lucifus and the assassin. Primmas Rose looked in askance mouth wide with confusion. Rose’s face was soon overtaken by terror as the massive form of a half-orc driving fifty pounds of axe into his braincase suddenly appeared. The effects of the invisibility potion had vanished but the bolt remained, securely held in Tunthi’s gut. The Derman collapsed in toxic pain as he swung out with his axe to finish the job. The blade struck nothing but air. The assassin was gone.

Lucifus tried to stand but could not. He then focused and hovered erratically towards where Tunthi looked at the tiny bolt in his belly, confusion clouding his features as he innocently looked in agony at the wizard. Lucifus painfully bent to the tough leather box at the side of the massive half-orc’s belt releasing its vials across the floor. None had been labelled although several had marks of some kind upon them. Lucifus tried to speak to Tunthi but he was short of breath and silenced by magic. He needed to get rid of the silencing effect somehow. He reached to his own pouch for his most powerful curative, swallowing the vials contents, the taste astringent, the feeling bitter. He felt for two others before consuming them as well. The bolt finally popped out but so did a small ball like a gold bullet.

Lucifus detected the aura of magic_{2}_ upon the bullet yet not the bolt and pointed to it desperately with a smashing action. Tunthi, now significantly weakened and lying on the floor did his best. The axe blade cleaved deeply into the floor making the bullet jump slightly. With effort and waning strength, he pulled the blade out and tried again, this time sending the pellet careening away from the blades edge and underneath the table. In fury, Tunthi launched his massive axe ‘Gnasa’ at the ball. The axe blade somersaulted; the throw was perfect, the golden pellet blasted into fragments, aural vibrance and sound returned to the area.

‘Grusha en Nuka Tunthi. Perre,” Lucifus breathed, relief yet desperation clouding his features. The half-orc struggled to understand as the poison quickly coursed through his veins, visibly weakening him every second and bringing him ever more quickly to Death’s doorstep. The pallor of the Derman had gone a sickly purplish white. He pointed at one vial loose on the ground then another before shrugging his shoulders. He was not sure.

Lucifus grabbed the first and without thinking further pushed it up towards the half-orc. Tunthi consumed the vial with difficulty. Their breaths were collectively held. The barbarian relaxed as the poison was immediately extinguished, expunged from his system. Lucifus took the other little tube moving to Chess. Blood had pooled underneath her neck and chest. He carefully tried to turn her over but it was all so dreadfully obvious. She was dead.

Phantom pain exploded through Lucifus at the realisation, the sharp sting having being held at bay in hope that Chess might still be alive. Now that the hope was gone, the delusive pains vital message was pulsed ruthlessly through his body before slowly releasing him from its grip, as if realising its presence was without cause or reason. Tunthi ignoring his own pain and near terrible fate had moved carefully to the wizard’s side, reaching out his enormous hand to clasp Lucifus’s shoulder as if to try and share the burden of grief and lend what remained of his strength to the little man he would follow for eternity. No words were spoken as Lucifus looked up at Tunthi’s features, grief wrought across their faces. They had failed.

***​
And so concludes the official end of the Chess Situation. The less well-known circumstances and aftermath of the affair will be digressed to in a future post after more pertinent matters have been dealt with. Several intriguing outcomes however are worth noting at this stage.

Primmas Rose somehow managed to survive the near-mortal wound from the barbarian, exiting by the use of desperate magic – a very lucky circumstance given the proximity of the silencing gold pellet in Lucifus’s chest. He harbours the severest of ill will towards Lucifus: dire curses and vile vendettas were sworn as he recovered from his grievous wounds.

Most agreed – although there will always be the overzealous critic in any crowd – that Chess’ performance was the best ever witnessed at the Turm. Fathers would talk to sons, masters to their apprentices and the noble to his neighbour of the night they once had at Gumbil’s Turm. A legend had been born this night, a brilliant star freshly lit in the night sky if only to be so quickly extinguished and winked out of existence.

And finally, the constabulary noted a day or two later, the extraordinary disappearance of two men of the watch. Farris and Vincent had been making further investigations regarding several murders. Unfortunately each had managed to procure a slit throat and a watery riverbed grave underneath the mighty Beltrates. The investigations made by them into the disappearance/murder of Chess and members of House Elarayan had been unfruitful in any case despite the rumour of a mysteriously appearing note (that managed to equally mysteriously disappear). Nothing could be proved and the crimes remain unsolved.

***​
Look forward to the next instalment as we journey back several years into the icy coastal fjords of Derman. (We’ll then quickly retreat back to the present where Lord Herland Ramus will deliver his caustic response to dinner table revelations made by Lucifus – an explosive episode to be sure.)

***​
{1} Lucifus had used his ‘Zelabel’s Instantaneous Transmission’ [Dimension Door].

{2} Lucifus had several spells permanently in effect on his person. The Detecting of Magic was one of them.


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## Mortepierre (Nov 20, 2004)

Hi there!

As SH go, this one is intriguing.

Lucifus is the kind of wily mage I love because you can actually see his Int score at work beside obvious displays of arcane powers. Too often, high-level wizards are reduced to an occasional comment based on their Knowledge (X) skill(s) and a continuous series of spells cast to show just how powerful they are. Glad to see you breaking stereotypes.

Speaking of stereotypes, after reading Sep's SH, I must confess I had come to expect Alienists to .. ah .. "work" in certain ways. Again, you proved me wrong.

From the way he acts, one can readily see Lucifus is a Conjurer. Alienist is much more tricky to uncover.. which is a good thing because a character's class(es) shouldn't be too obvious. Helps preserve a sense of mystery.

I especially liked the enemy-polymorphed-into-a-toad. Long ago, it seemed every wizard out there was doing it but it kind of fell out of fashion. So, seeing it done once again brings back a sense of time-honored practice. Nice touch!

I'll be sure to drop by again in the future when you update


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## Herremann the Wise (Dec 1, 2004)

*The Stones of Fate*

_Several years earlier…_

The mighty Beltrates joins together a vast and varied expanse of population, from the ancient areas of Kortillne all the way down and through the city states of Greatbridge, Flekir and Keryl to the Emperor’s current seat of Peronsil and finally to the Beltrates Delta at Nethendawe. The Beltrates Delta itself empties into the legendary Sea of Amber where to the east, lying on the southern sweep of the Sea is the country of Amborna while on the western arc of the Amber's reach lays the rugged coastline of Derman. The wilds of Derman are a primal realm noted for their mighty fjords, ancient topography and smatterings of primitive culture. The small tribes and groupings are humano-centric with traces of orcish and other barbaric bloodlines widely spread. Some of the coastal clans have developed through trade or plunder while other inland tribes still live, as they existed many hundreds of years ago by the dictates of their shamans.

Along the northern lands of the Derman coastline deep amongst the icy fjords laid several tribal areas. These areas defined by the dominant clan in each region had been in conflict or at war with one another for well beyond living memory. Hatreds had blackened the blood running through their veins for so many generations that whether by instinct or instruction, an inevitable and immutable aura of loathing and eternal malice clouded the entire region. The wilds of Derman were an intensely dangerous place.

Currently, Lucifus Cray was watching a spectacle high atop the cliffs of one of the great fjords of the Strauchn Tribe_{1}_. A half-circle of rock perilously reached outwards of the cliff top, hundreds of feet above the rocky crags below. The hostile wash of treacherous waves thundered into the cliffwall, sending spumes high into the frigid air. Upon the semi-circular platform lay a series of important stones of significance forming a henge enclosing two combatants carefully circling each other. The entire male component of the Strauchn tribe attempted to view this battle from the arena-like hilltop behind the semi-circular henge: one of Hercule’s moons full in the night sky lent adequate illumination along with several fires. The warriors each moved with speed and precision, every shift and feint met by a roar or savage intake of breath - the clash was to decide the fate of the clan’s leadership.

Lucifus had been staying with the tribe’s Shamaness learning from her ancient secrets of power amongst other things. The tribe regarded him suspiciously but as the Shamaness was obviously cavorting with the strange and powerful “tuk-tuk”_{2}_, his presence was tolerated. He floated beside her, currently watching the ferocious yet to him slightly ridiculous death duel between Klorgan: the Clan’s leader_{3}_ and a powerful young fighter challenging him by the name of Tunthi. Lucifus was currently conveying his thoughts to the Shamaness in the more civilised Ambornan speech – Lucifus’s native tongue and a language he had taught her over the past year.

“Do you expect this challenger to be successful? There have been several over the past two moons. The Mighty Klorgan for a fact is looking somewhat taxed by the younger challenger.”
Ugari’s clear gaze never wavered from the contest, the Shamaness’ dark hair bound in ceremonial significance. “The celestials tell me many things and the forces behind them more. Of this contest however I cannot divine. Tunthi lacks the wisdom for leadership despite his strong arm. It would be a poor choice of the spirits to allow him victory.” Whilst only slight, Ugari, Shamaness of the Strauchn had an aura of power about her unmatched by any in the clan. Her word was as law. Or perhaps more accurately in terms of their barbaric culture, her word was feared by all. She looked on in silence, her face an intense and unreadable mask.

The clan roared as Klorgan parried away a sudden slicing arc from the younger Tunthi before bringing his own axe to bear; the overhand thrust separating bone and sinew along Tunthi’s left shoulder. The burst of sound from the savage crowd echoed over the henge and out into the sea’s far expanse. Klorgan followed the strike by battering the full weight of the axe into Tunthi’s chest, an explosion of air rushing out of the challenger’s lungs. The sheer force of the brutal blow had pushed Tunthi back and over to the ground: two glisteningly white ribs had broken through crimsoned muscle and skin as evidence of Klorgan’s savage ferocity. The leader stepped in for the killing blow to separate head from neck but was briefly thwarted by Tunthi’s ruined arm, the blow smashing his forearm apart and glancing off onto the side of his face ripping off cheek, ear and jowl. The loud clattering of the clan’s collective axes acknowledged the imminent victory of Klorgan – his opponent helpless upon the ground and at his mercy.

Klorgan looked around the henge as the bellowing din of the clan washed over him, the flames of fate illuminating his massive sweaty and bloody features as he held his axe high to his men once more in victory. His eyes were fevered in rage, his body taut in triumph as he quickly swung around with a flourish and brought the axe down single-handedly into Tunthi’s ruined body. So quick that men would boast to the spirits that they had seen the blow, Tunthi twisted bringing his own axe up. The blade cut deeply across the throat of Klorgan as the clan leader sent the strike that should have ended the duel off of Tunthi’s side and into the rocky dirt. Klorgan’s eyes danced in panic as he realised his mortal mistake, a hand went to his throat to stop the instant gush of blood but the blood welled through his grip and down his arm, his front an instant crimson. He pulled his axe arm back as if to attempt another blow but with this final act of futility, he collapsed chest first to the ground. He would die with the bitterest knowledge of his loss wrought across his strained and defeated features.

The Clan had momentarily stilled; gone quiet as if trying to take in either what they had seen or the ill logic of what seemed to have taken place. Tunthi rose upon one knee before taking Klorgan’s axe as his own. With what was left of his strength, he raised the axe known simply as “Gnasa”. A ragged cheer went up from some acknowledging the victory while most looked on in solemn silence, their faces turned to the Shamaness, the clan’s flame flickering strongly behind her. She herself waited for Tunthi to complete the victory.

Tunthi, his left side covered almost totally in his own blood, the side of his face a bloody, mangled mess had the strength to get to his feet and step to one of the standing stones. While his left arm dangled uselessly to one side, the other held his new axe, also gripping the side of one of the standing stones. Lending his shoulder to the effort with both legs straining, he toppled the tall stone off the precipice into the gnashing black seas below. The wind blew ferociously and so the rock’s impact was never to be heard. It was however certainly felt. The Clan started battering axe heads into shields or other axes, the noise and clamour of the clan rising swiftly in volume. Over all was heard the penetrating granite voice of the Shamaness shouting a single victorious word. Gnasa!!!

***​
_{1}_ Strauchn when translated by an enthusiast with a streak of panache would best be represented by the moniker “Mighty Sea Wolves”. A stricter and less inspirational translation would be “hungry water people”. 

_{2}_Tuk-Tuk in Derman means little non-fighting man or in the course and vulgar slang of some clan members “du Gnasa”.

_{3}_ While the Clan Leader was responsible for the martial undertakings of the tribe, the real power and essence of the tribe resided with the Shamaness. It was held that the tribe’s entire soul resided in her heart. As such, most matters of life and death were her province. It was her immediate responsibility and duty to judge the victor of the duel worthy of carrying the Clan’s flame – currently sitting to her right atop a mighty torch.


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## Herremann the Wise (Dec 3, 2004)

*The Power of the Alienist - Part One*

_About Two Months after Tunthi’s Dramatic Victory at the Henge…_

The creature looked at Lucifus before gazing at Ugari’s naked form reclining on a series of pillows brought into the tent for her convenience and comfort.  It’s head and eyes returned to Lucifus, yet one could believe that it was using senses of an unknown and most alien nature to gauge its surroundings. The conjurer’s features had relaxed somewhat in excitement, the exertions of this new feat baring surprising fruit. To all appearances, the creature’s tiny form was that of a raven not unlike Winter – who was now agitatedly sitting on the floating wizards shoulder, threatened on several levels by the new arrival.

“Winter, settle yourself. We have a new guest, if only for a few moments.” Lucifus’s grin carried the extreme glee of success; his words utterly understating his achievement. He pushed a thought towards the creature unsuccessfully. It continued to examine him with unknown faculties. A quick adjustment in instruction from Lucifus resulted in the creature changing form into… something else… something very completely and entirely different. Ugari whispered, not wanting to tax or divert the tuk-tuk’s attention. “They prefer their natural form. It is more stable, more conducive to complex instruction.”

Lucifus in fact was being awoken to the power he had coveted for so long. For six exhaustive years he had followed unfounded leads, studied tome after scroll, read and researched in the most dire of libraries, experimented, explored and probed all for nought until this moment. The power he had just untapped was immense. The power was inexhaustible. The power was his. A presence then smashed through his reverie. An alien presence piercing his senses and invading his mind to the point that he almost lost control and consciousness. By sheer force of will, Lucifus regained some level of composure as he answered the telepathic presence with his own. He forced his own sense of self to the telepathic bond and forced the creature completely out his mind. He still felt it though; it’s malevolence, it’s hatred. It was bound however to the summoning compact completely. It just sought a way to exploit the connection established between them. Next time Lucifus would be ready for it. The tentacled, tumescent and fleshy lump winked out of existence back to its planar surroundings on the other side of the cosmos in terms of dimension and time as well as several other variables that he had recently found and established. Lucifus had succeeded.

“They have enormous presence when they telepathically conjoin. I sensed that you forced it back easily. That is good. They only understand such displays of power.” Ugari shifted her posture; pulling her knees underneath her nakedness. She continued looking at the floating wizard in appreciation, “You are already thinking of doing it again. You feel the need, the hunger to dominate once more. You want to summon a more powerful being.” Ugari glared at Lucifus, sensing his intentions.  “Be patient and be warned. You still have much to learn. There are intrinsic wards that you do not yet...”

Lucifus blinded by such pure and complete power heedlessly radiated his most powerful summoning into being. He had prepared and allineated his summoning magick to a new and obviously successful modification of several layers. He had adapted the secret combination from the shamaness, her ways totally different. She knew not exactly how she achieved her link with the furthest reaches of the cosmos. She just could. And now so could Lucifus.

Ugari instinctively moved back from the new presence before it instantly changed heedless of the wizard’s direction and advanced towards him with blinding quickness and accuracy - its tentacles trying to rend the wizard apart at the hip. Lucifus however responded with utter command. The massive creature shrunk back instantly cowed and completely intimidated. Ugari looked on in amazement, as the wizard continued to force his will upon the creature. Never had she seen such an overwhelming display of power. In one moment the creature was in control splitting through a lack of wards on the prime, the next the tuk-tuk had blown the creature’s resolve away in an instant. It was immobile, a complete servant to the wizard’s will.

Lucifus’s expression was altered by passion and power as he moved towards the creature. He momentarily released his will from it, moving forward towards the tentacled mass as if daring it to respond. His eyes never left it; its own fickle senses mute. It was totally bound and in fear of him. He was almost touching it as he released a blast of energy into its fleshy substance, electricity washing across it, arcing sporadically before dissipating. Its natural resistance to magic had been completely circumvented yet only several burnt and blackened smoking patches existed upon it. Normally, such a blast of electricity would destroy something completely. It had survived but still cowed in agony as it was left bound by its contract. Lucifus impelled a single thought towards it and the creature was gone, dismissed from the prime.

Lucifus quietly spoke, breathing heavily. “They have resistance and protections. I could feel it trying to resist the magick but it could not. Would not. The magick bound it to the compact completely.”
Ugari just looked on, holding a necklaced charm against her breast as if protecting herself. “You had no wards but still survived. I could feel its power but it instantly retreated from you.” Ugari was still amazed by what she had witnessed, stunned into submission herself. She always knew that Lucifus had power. But never like that. Her own power came from the spirits of the land but Lucifus was very different. He had claimed over the past moons that he would observe and eventually imitate her innate abilities. Instead he had surpassed them. She moved towards him, a surge of passion upon her exotic features. Lucifus looked at her smiling, his response and ardour equal to the task once more.

_***_

_*Authors Sidenote:*_

_Summoning and the Alienist: Some Challenges._

Paul the DM and I had a little trouble working out the precise nature of the psuedonatural template. Our thoughts were to make psuedonatural creatures as alien as possible. As such, communication was always going to be awkward: psuedonatural creatures would almost never have aural organs by which to communicate with. As such, we established that such creature’s preferred mode of communication would be via telepathy. These creatures used senses totally different from creatures of the prime so the telepathy path was critical. However, the only method by which one could speak to them was via a tongues spell – something Lucifus has since made permanent (1500xp – ouch!). The magic essentially forms a connection between them. Lucifus has to speak normally but the magic of the Tongues spell produces the desired result. Any response however from the creature would be telepathic.

Perhaps one of the hardest things then to describe is why such creatures would appear, as they do – like normal summoned entities. I thought that the caster would envisage a particular creature and the conjurative magic present would hold this image to the being, which they could then dismiss when commanded. Once changed however, the latent magic was gone and thus they could not transfer back. They were the ugly, pustulant and tentacled mass that most people seemed to favour when describing the product of an alienist’s summoning.

The whole act of summoning then becomes fascinating from a theoretical perspective. While normally represented as the instantaneous rabbit out of the hat, I think the relationship between the spell, caster and summonsed creature far more complex and involved than what would appear to others watching. The power of the spell to enforce some sort of contract between the caster and the creature, where that creature has no right of refusal or recourse is very empowering to the caster, almost to the point of intoxication. When done by a caster lacking any form of scruples – such as Lucifus at this point in his career – it becomes downright dangerous (to both the caster and others around them). I’d like to think that the spell has a variety of components that restrict the eventual contract. As Lucifus found, by not nailing these down adequately, the summoned creature is allowed a certain scope to react unfavourably, much like a called creature. However, being less powerful compared to the actual magic involved, the natural will and power of the spellcaster will usually be too strong for anything untoward to regularly happen. When learning new summonings however, the opportunity for danger should be expected.

Mortepierre, you bring up an interesting point in Lucifus being a conjurer but not so obviously an alienist. This is of course by design. The difficulty of becoming an alienist is very real in terms of this world. Insanity normally bites before they are either killed or raced off by cosmic entities when their time has come – that is to say old age. However, these are the lucky ones in the fact that they have survived the powers of the alienist and have not fallen instant prisoner to them. It seems to me that most alienists would die early. Of those wizards who have some degree of wisdom, they would deny, hide or destroy such knowledge knowing that it would eventually lead them down a path they could never control. Those who lack the wisdom always believe they can master the dread powers at their command. Their ego always makes them believe that they will prevail. However, most important is that because alienists are spread so far apart and so few in number, apprentices in the art are few and far between.

The two ways of becoming an alienist are either through another alienist or somehow having dealings with one of these strange psuedonatural entities. For Lucifus, it was obviously the former. He has had to strike a most unusual bargain with Ugari the Shamaness but that will become more obvious in the next instalment. I hope the barbaric culture of the Derman will become explicitly evident too. Unfortunately, most barbarians when played are either dumb. ferocious or both – Tunthi being a perfect example (note that this was by my design, not a reflection of Paul’s DMing which was excellent). As you will see though, while chaotic, they still abide by a certain sense of law or practice. The defining factor is their purely uncivilised nature. The niceties of society are vacant, never developed due to the strength of the base qualities of human and humanoid nature. Their lives become an erratic balance between lusts and fears. I’ll hopefully give you all some real insight into a truly barbaric culture next update.

Mortepierre, thank you for your fine words and interest. Your extended response was and is most appreciated. Looking forward to hearing from you again.

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise


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## Mortepierre (Dec 4, 2004)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> Mortepierre, thank you for your fine words and interest. Your extended response was and is most appreciated. Looking forward to hearing from you again.




And thank you for taking the time to explain your take on the subject of Alienists and Far Realm entities.

I found it intriguing, not to mention strangely logical (given we're addressing creatures of pure chaos   ). I especially liked your idea about the pseudonatural creatures assuming the shape defined by the spellcaster's mental image but then reverting to their 'own' nature.

I am curious though. Does your DM allow the pseudonatural creatures to retain the SA & SQ of the "basic" creature or doe they lose them upon reverting? If it's the latter, I feel for you because they are then reduced to a kind of 'pseudonatural elemental' without much diversity.

On the other hand, it would seem more in keeping with what they truly are. I confess that this potential problem has always bothered me in the example of Mostlin (in Sep's SH) where an alienist summons pseudonatural creatures not for what they are but more for the innate powers of the monster they duplicate. In the end, apart from rare instances where Mostlin summons truly horrific Far Realm creatures, one doesn't really see the difference between him and a "standard" Conjurer :\ 

Looking forward to seeing more of them in future episodes


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## Herremann the Wise (Dec 8, 2004)

*Lucifus's Prisoner - The Alienist Part II*

***​
_*Author’s Warning*_: The following passage contains material more adult in nature and is recommended suitable for a mature audience only.

***​
_Later that Evening…_

Drunk on the heady brew of years of toil coming to fruition, Lucifus felt the need to celebrate. While amused by the enthusiastic joinings with the shamaness, he felt the need to expand upon his carousing. With Ugari resting blissfully in meditation upon her pillows, Lucifus left the rough hide tent. The night air was chill, with a steady wind sweeping across the heights of the hilltop overlooking the scene of Tunthi’s dramatic victory against the former yet quickly forgotten leader Klorgan. The lack of sentimentality would have disturbed Lucifus at one point in his life but now he found the cultural variety refreshing. He descended from the shamaness’ lodging down to the lower level, a scene of roars, bellows and general feasting and festivity.

The area was a confusion of activity with numerous torches flickering, fluttering, being picked up, thrown, doused, bursting and flaring to create a chaotic coruscation of radiance like some orgiastic festival of light and shadow. There were several scenes amongst the illuminated chaos that drew Lucifus’s eye as he floated towards his intended destination.

The first was a colossal spitted ox, roasting since the early morning. Several figures dug around the hot coals with sticks trying to provoke a fiercer heat, while the massive form of a clansman, orc-blood rich in his veins turned the massive beast single-handedly. Several clansmen walking past were harried away by the stick-wielders, collectively waiting for the “cook” to determine when the beast would be ready. Several fights had broken out only stopped when the muscled half-orc turning the beast threatened to get out his axe. The cook’s threats were taken seriously.

The next scene near the cliff’s precipice was a group of clansmen revelling in the torture of several captives: fresh from an early morning raid against a merchant craft traversing the Sea of Amber in search of now unfulfilled profit. A small number had already been decapitated, the bodies discarded while the heads had been bashed upon stakes. Those captives still conscious from semi-crucification painfully looked about with panicked glances between the limply extended and bloody faces of their former comrades, the heaving brutal demeanour of the jubilant clansmen and the as yet unsullied stakes dug deeply into the craggy ground a few unwelcome strides away. Others watched and roared at the spectacle and sport cheering as another captive was blooded. A few moments after, the head was off and jammed into another empty stake. Lucifus thought it would not take them long now to kill the rest.

As he floated past the other side of the sodden sward, a large and powerful clansman was having his way with some poor girl. Other girls and women_{1}_ ranging greatly in age waited patiently nearby for their turn.  He was obviously one of the more successful raiders claiming his due. His muscled body was wet with sweat, the dark streaks of dried blood further evidence of his participation and success. His frenzied animalistic rutting with the girl kneeling beneath him was momentarily disturbed as she was discarded and replaced. He had blindly reached out at the closest form before forcing her underneath him as he continued, his rhythm barely interrupted.

Lucifus who had floated past the scene was looking for a small tent amongst the large number of hide dwellings on the leeward side of the clan’s peninsula. He saw the unadorned doeskin shelter he was looking for in the distance and headed towards it. Several Clanswoman left out of the evening’s festivities were milling around the encampment. They gave the floating wizard wide birth. The majority of the clan rightly feared Lucifus, his obvious “spirit” power augmented by his status with the shamaness. While still a stranger of sorts, he had “Gurtha”. This effectively meant he was officially part of the clan although the term does have several other expanded connotations. He opened the flap without fear of consequence and floated inside.

The form of a small human man lay on the ground sleeping, naked except for an iron manacle around his neck chained to a nearby granite boulder. In reality, the little man was so weak that the chain was most likely more than enough to keep him fettered; the boulder completely in excess of necessity. In all likelihood, neither was necessary. He had nowhere to go and no way of getting there even if he did. The final stage of his life had been spent attempting to honour his God amongst these savages who knew nothing of faith or kindness.  It took several moments for him to awaken to Lucifus’s presence.

“May I be of service… master?” he habitually croaked, his body shifting slightly. The frail old man, once from the Beltratian hinterlands east of Larksale in a different lifetime opened his eyes fully to reveal wells of deep amber that unhurriedly focused on the floating wizard. He did not act surprised but his eyes revealed a certain revulsion and disgust.

“I thought I’d come along for a little chat, brag of my final success so to speak”, Lucifus smiled. He then added a further simple yet ominous statement of his victory. “I have gone beyond”.
There was a quiet between the two, only broken when the wind’s icy tendrils reached into the pathetic shelter with a dramatic hiss. Lucifus pulling a cloak around his chest then replied, “You were one of the first people I had in mind to visit actually. There are several others of course but they can wait a little longer for a more comprehensive display.”
“You have turned your back on sanity”, the man uttered. “May Galasso have mercy upon the tattered cinders of your soul.”
“My soul as it were is quite my own thank you and well out of the reach of your god. While I respect your faith, I am happy to leave you to enjoy its meagre benefits. No, I have come for a different reason. I have come for a request actually. I have need of your wisdom once more, except this time I will have it.”

The old man, a once mighty priest of Galasso looked over the wizard shaking his head, a frail shell of what and who he once was. He was tired of this game that the wizard insisted upon playing. “You have not heeded a single word from my lips so far. I will not waste what is left of my faith and wisdom on you.” And with this he rolled over attempting to finally dismiss the wizard from what remained of his life.

Lucifus however altered from his usual routine at this point. He must have the name. “I can secure your freedom. I will help you return to your former life. It is now within my power.”
For several moments there was no reaction as the man lay there as still as the corpse he almost was. Lucifus’s patience however was rewarded as he turned over once more, the chain clinking. “I will not give you what you want. Not for my freedom and not for anything in this mortal world. My soul is worth more to me than that.” There. He had said it. If Galasso were good it would come true.

Lucifus sensing the man’s inner battles tried a different tact. “I am bound by my own contract to give her this creature. If I am unsuccessful, I will be dead but the creature will be loosed upon this world. Do you wish that to happen? Will that not equally stain your soul? I intend to call it tomorrow night come what may… I know how to reach it; you have at least helped me with that much. You can help me control it though… a simple request. What is it's name; one of these beasts that destroyed your little batallion before you ran away? Think of it as the purest revenge, they hate being called to do a mortal's bidding. I might even let you watch my dominion over it.”

The priest looked utterly pained, destroyed by the bitter memory. For eight months he had been imprisoned here, a harmless traveller seeking solace aboard a raided vessel. Lucifus had saved his life once much to his shame. He had bargained with the wizard out of fear and a lack of faith but never again. He couldn’t. His faith must be strong. It Must! It was then that a terrible and horrific idea occurred to him, the last flicker of his will extinguishing. Doomed. He would give the fool a name. He would give the fool a devil he could never control and one that would destroy this god’s forsaken place and all those within it.  He remembered for the last time a distant past_{2}_, when he had been an idealistic cleric and more a fool himself – had he changed that much?

He looked up at the wizard, one frail and speckled arm upon the ground and bespoke a single name, “Sarrash”.
Lucifus who had been about to say something was caught surprised but only for a moment as the simple yet most powerful utterance registered. He started laughing, a low insidious laugh at his final victory over the man. The laughter soon grew in pitch and timbre as he finally repeated the name, “Sarrash…”
The old priest of Galasso collapsed limply upon the ground, his arm lacking the strength to support his body a moment longer. He could feel his sight diminishing to grey, his soul blackening and the mumbled words of the wizard fading to silence. What had he done? WHAT HAD HE DONE his mind shrieked in tortured faithless agony. He felt what was left of his senses leave him.

Lucifus who had by now left the bitterly cold shelter with the knowledge of a double victory gleefully displayed upon his rapturous features failed to notice that the little man had expired and passed away; the agony of his final sin wracked across his features.

***​
_{1}_ The dedicated anthropologist would be fascinated at the variety of culture, honour systems, social mores and vibrant customs within the many and varied Derman clans. Those of the Strauchn however were fairly typical in terms of their treatment of women and thus useful in terms of a study of the generic Derman culture – although variances and specific customs were still here and there individualized and at times unique.

The concepts of marriage, fidelity and monogamy were unknown amongst the Strauchn as it was amongst all the barbaric tribes of Derman. The possession of the female was by the clan and not by any individuals there within. As such, bloodlines were impossible to determine and not of importance in the judgment of position and authority. It would be true to say that might, power and physical prowess were the perfect determiners of prestige and place amongst the tribe.

The women are separated from the men in terms of domestic duties and are rarely involved in the day to day decisions of the clan – such things are the province of the clan’s leader and direct subordinates. The clan’s shamaness would bless occasional pregnancies and with a certain degree of luck and fortitude a babe would be born. The women as a whole would look after the children although the use of a term such as “Childhood” has little meaning amongst the clans. The bond between mother and any progeny was weak at best. As soon as a youngling was large enough to wield an axe or desired enough to be bedded, they were part of the greater tribe. In essence, age like bloodlines was of little consequence in determining ones rank. The old and sick in fact were quickly discarded from the tribe.

It is to be noted however, that there is one very important exception to this concept of power within the clan and that is the position of the Shamaness. Most tribes have a shamaness, witchwoman or wangateur who is considered to be the beacon or soul of the tribe. To lose one’s shamaness is to have the spirit’s turn their back upon the entire clan. The Clan would be disbanded and most likely become simple prey to neighbouring tribes. Through obvious power and general superstition, the Shamaness was never challenged and all followed her command. The passing on of power from one shamaness to another is a complete study in itself and maybe of further interest down the track.

_{2}_ The Church of Galasso was historically known for many heroic virtues and ventures. One faded ritual in particular was the irregular and small crusading made against the servants of darkness inside the very realms of Hell. These gallant efforts were performed by young and idealistic clerics known as Storm Soldiers of the Eagle (The Eagle being the representation of Galasso). In their raids, they were given power to defeat their enemies, using the real names of these devils and dark entities so as they could be smited from existence. As such, it was not uncommon for such holy warriors to know the precise nomenclature of several powerful manifestations. However, those that returned from these crusades were normally deeply affected. It would be years later that such priests would have issues of faith, most eventually leaving the service of Galasso as broken men; some never to return, others to be tormented forever by their knowledge of pure darkness. The practice of such foolhardy expeditions had since been abandoned by the Church.


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## Cheiromancer (Dec 9, 2004)

Hmmm.  Rather dark... as dark as what Sep has written lately.

Do tell us more about Sarrash.


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## John Q. Mayhem (Dec 9, 2004)

Nice. I'm itching to know the full story of how Tunthi became Lucifus' companion.


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## Mortepierre (Dec 12, 2004)

I loved the style of that last update Herremann!

Finally some grim & gritty SH where the author isn't afraid to use "mature" material. 100% benefit to realism, kudos


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## pogre (Dec 14, 2004)

I see the group was most wise in their hesitancy to admit Lucifus...

They certainly have traded one pain in the rear for another  

I would love to see your DM drop in and give his perspective on events.


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## Renfield (Dec 15, 2004)

*Greetings and Salutations*

I admit it's been awhile since I saw your post on my SH and I've certainly taken my time in starting to read your own SH, however, I must say I find it most entertaining and I've only finished the first post. If it were not important for me to get some form of sleep this night I'd continue reading. Still, I must say you are the third Alienist I've learned of and of the three I am glad to say I have found all interesting and unique. 

One of my players (playing under a player in our group during my sabatacle from DMing) had an interesting drow Alienist who was quite the neat freak and had a terrible fear of insects. Not the best thing to have in drow society (thankfully spiders aren't classified as insects so he liked those just fine) however he had proved himself very useful to his house on numerous occasions and considering the level of the game he was actually his houses wizard. The game was a rather interesting Drow campaign in which we were all goodly aligned drow who were gathered by Lolth herself for just that reason right before the destruction of Ched Nasad. (Those who've read War of the Spider Queen should be familiar.) His basic stats should you like to know: Tazzenkaf Auvryndar. Wizard(Abjuruer)5. Alienist 9. 

Anyhow, the point of my post, I enjoy your story hour quite a bit and may read a bit more considering I'm looking at my clock and finding it quite late, almost too late to get any decent sleep. I've also posted the final part of my 'preludes' as well and soon shall actually be working on stories of the campaign. Might even post before the night... er, morning... is through.

P.S. It seems I'll have to be referring to my world as Erth as you have apparently beaten me to Urth


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## Herremann the Wise (Dec 16, 2004)

*The Arcadys Scroll*

This is so cool! Thanks everyone for the feedback; it makes the efforts of writing, editting, re-editting, re-writing and re-editting once more worth while.

***​


			
				Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Hmmm.  Rather dark... as dark as what Sep has written lately.
> 
> Do tell us more about Sarrash.




OK, to have one's work compared to Sep's (even if it is only the darkness and atmosphere's tenor) is to be cherished. Thank you for reading - I am humbled.

In regards to Sarrash, I don't want to let too many cats out of the bag except to say that he is not your run-of-the-mill Pit Fiend. He is quite different in terms of his station in the diabolical ordering of Hell's minions and in many ways more powerful, insidious and depraved than most. I dare to say that you will enjoy a slightly different twist on what has gone before.




			
				John Q. Mayhem said:
			
		

> Nice. I'm itching to know the full story of how Tunthi became Lucifus' companion.




I was going to downplay certain elements that resulted in Tunthi's following of Lucifus to the ends of the "Urth" but your feedback has made me realise that it would not do justice to the entwined backstory I crafted when I created the character of Lucifus. As such, I have been working on five updates that I hope to release before Christmas. There is just too much fun to be had that would be unfair of me not to let you guys in on. Thanks again for your reading and valued feedback.




			
				Mortepierre said:
			
		

> I loved the style of that last update Herremann!
> 
> Finally some grim & gritty SH where the author isn't afraid to use "mature" material. 100% benefit to realism, kudos




I kind of realised that I most probably should have some sort of warning somewhere for this story hour. I don't think Eric's grandma would fully appreciate some of the places I intend to go with this tale. She would certainly find it a bumpy ride. However, everything has a purpose, rude or crass for the sake of nought but to be rude or crass does not sit well with me. Venturing into the pits of darkness that represent Lucifus's sordid past however are needed to fully understand the events to follow. The descent of Lucifus's soul has only just begun!

And by the way, I have not forgotten your own story hour either. I am preparing a precise, measured and full response to the world you are so graciously letting us enter.




			
				Pogre said:
			
		

> I see the group was most wise in their hesitancy to admit Lucifus...
> 
> They certainly have traded one pain in the rear for another
> 
> I would love to see your DM drop in and give his perspective on events.




LOL

He-that-shall-not-be-named and Lucifus Cray share a few things in common although officially representing opposing ends of the spectrum.

I'll try to get Paul the DM to offer some commentary, he's been following the story hour, shaking his head with a smile upon the face. Some of the players have also been following but they're sick of all this Lucifus Smucifus rubbish. They want _their _ characters up in lights. Hmmm... can't wait for one particular instance where...




			
				Renfield said:
			
		

> I admit it's been awhile since I saw your post on my SH and I've certainly taken my time in starting to read your own SH, however, I must say I find it most entertaining and I've only finished the first post. If it were not important for me to get some form of sleep this night I'd continue reading. Still, I must say you are the third Alienist I've learned of and of the three I am glad to say I have found all interesting and unique.
> 
> One of my players (playing under a player in our group during my sabatacle from DMing) had an interesting drow Alienist who was quite the neat freak and had a terrible fear of insects. Not the best thing to have in drow society (thankfully spiders aren't classified as insects so he liked those just fine) however he had proved himself very useful to his house on numerous occasions and considering the level of the game he was actually his houses wizard. The game was a rather interesting Drow campaign in which we were all goodly aligned drow who were gathered by Lolth herself for just that reason right before the destruction of Ched Nasad. (Those who've read War of the Spider Queen should be familiar.) His basic stats should you like to know: Tazzenkaf Auvryndar. Wizard(Abjuruer)5. Alienist 9.
> 
> ...




There is so much room to move with the Alienist, so many directions in which you can take them. Insects sounds interesting as a phobia. Lucifus's phobia goes in a slightly different direction again. He's just reaching the point in his development when his fears will become particularly evident. Their manifestation however will be a lot of fun and very amusing if not a little strange.

Apologies for stealing Urth from you. In truth though, Paul constructed this world well over twenty years ago so he beat all of us to the punch. Nethendawe too. I just love that name.

Look forward to reading more of your own SH.  

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise

***​
The actual SH update here is actually quite short  , all in preparation for a mega pre-christmas update.  

***​
_Later that Evening, Past the Mid of Night back in Ugari’s Pavilion…_

Lucifus touched the scroll with reverence, his fingers delicately caressing its length, the feel of the ancient vellum coarsely familiar under his fingers. It was bound and sealed using a long forgotten method that Lucifus had tried himself to replicate but without success. His eyes and gaze could not leave the scroll as he spoke, “This is my most precious possession. I hope you understand the cost… in more ways than one.”
Ugari, inches away from his face, her arms delicately coiled around his person whispered quietly, seductively “I know it was worth it. I can sense the power running through you; the furthest spirits obey and heed your command”. Lucifus pondered in wishful thought, the shamaness’ words having little impact on his ego or mood.

The scroll was in fact his long forgotten master’s. It was the type of item, priceless in it’s own right that could never be bought for simple gold. It was an Arcadys Scroll_{1}_. Just the mere thought of the power held within its form shook Lucifus’s soul as he sought its seal, tracing the outline of the ancient blackened wax. His hands started shaking in anticipation and dread. He could not believe what he was about to do; he had envisaged this moment for so long but had never really contemplated beyond anticipation of the act. Closing his eyes, he uttered the incantation that would nullify the seal’s abjurative magics… and with a twist of his hand, the seal was broken, the tightly bound parchment released, unfurling, expanding in girth, a sigh released like the sound of some distant soul’s anguish.

He carefully placed the skin upon the large even granite block in front of him, its flat grey darkness nurturing the exquisitely elegant weight of the scroll. With a single finger, he delicately opened the scroll’s length marvelling at the feel of the vellum, the coldness of the pure gold rod forming its spine tingled Lucifus as he contacted its perfection. From Lucifus’s closer observation, he thought the skin of some hellish and diabolical being, lovingly rubbed and kneaded, massaged and polished to the incredibly fine membrane it had become. The inks used upon the scroll were varied in vibrance, colour and material; the pigments seeming to lift off of the surface as every so often an arcane perturbance glistened across the sheet like some evanescent arcing of current - evidence of the extreme power held within its single page.

“Leave me now Ugari. This will take some time and an extended period of concentration_{2}_. I cannot allow my focus to lapse, nor my will to falter.” Lucifus looked once more at the scroll before adding, “I will call for you tomorrow eve when I am ready and have prepared the circle of power.”
Ugari_{3} _ glanced at the ground inside her pavilion before considering him once more with her dark luscious eyes, her hands teasing him before rising. She left without a word – her thoughts on the beast the wizard had promised her so many moons before.

***​
_{1}_ Arcadys – pronounced according to the Proto-Beltratian dialect (ar-kay-dees) – was an ancient summoner of particular power and note. Innovative, methodical yet incredibly powerful in his brilliance, Arcadys’s vibrant connection to both the Nine Hells and the Infinite Layers of the Abyss made him a power unto himself, a law in the lands of the deepest and unchartered south of Urth. Eventually, he would disappear as those of his ilk eventually must, destroyed by a creature beyond his considerable power but not before the giving of several legacies to the magical world. The calling of diabolical and infernal creatures has always been haphazard and to this day still is. However, Arcadys was able to find a new and more powerful way to call these creatures, unknown to those of Urth until that point. The secrets of his method however would die with him except for a small number of scrolls, some of which were reputed to contain his most powerful magical calling and conjuration. The scroll Lucifus currently held represented the pinnacle of Arcadys work and study.

_{2}_ Lucifus’s abilities of concentration and focus had been multiplied manyfold by the purchase of a small trinket, soon after the death of his former master Norrigan Salaiz in the bazaars of Amborna. The Ring of Nourishment (a.k.a. a ring of sustenance) enabled the user to never again have need of food or water nor the gentle benefit of many hours of sleep. Lucifus found that a short slumber was all that he required and even this, he could forego here and there with minimal effect. The extra hours of consciousness provided by the bauble allowed Lucifus a productivity bordering upon the epic; be it in the researching of innovative and original magics, the crafting of powerful items or the pleasuring of large proportions of the female gender.

_{3}_ It is most likely worth noting that Ugari is not typical in terms of her position as the spiritual leader of the Strauchn Clan. She is relatively young for a Shamaness (in her late twenties) and has only the slightest taint/augmentation of orc blood – the wide cheekbones and strong sinews but not the jutting jaw, protruding laniaries (canine teeth) or retreated nasal bone normally evident in the richer blooded half-breed. In effect, she was quite pretty if abundantly exotic by conventional Beltratian or Ambornan standards and taste.

Her power is relatively on par with other spiritual leaders dotted across the primordial Derman landscape. She was a foundling, discovered by the Shamaness that went before her: the Shamaness Ochrisi na Dura. Ugari was raised without favour but between her obvious power and the mysterious foreknowledge that she would eventually ascend to spiritual leadership, Ochrisi always knew who was fated to succeed her.

The passing of the clan’s spiritual flame from one generation to the next was like most activities performed by the Strauchn clan: bloody, frenzied and without mercy. Eventually, the spiritual leader would weaken to the point of being challenged by another within the clan who had the power to command the spirits of the land and sea. The two would battle to the death and thus would the victor be charged as the new Shamaness of the clan. However, it must be noted that rather than fearing one’s death, the Shamaness would die painfully but secure in the knowledge that the spiritual power of the clan would continue. Ugari’s victory over Ochrisi na Dura was quick; her power, dominance and superiority clear to all. Several hideous spirit entities had carried her clawed carcass high into the frigid air before dropping it far out into the sea’s awful depths.

While all feared Ugari’s wrath, the whisperings here and there of occasional disapproval were inevitable when it came to her spiritual leadership. In particular, her relationship with the foreigner Lucifus was cause for a certain amount of unfortunate gossip and innuendo. Many thought the power or "Gurtha" placed upon the Tuk-Tuk inappropriate. The current clan leader Tunthi in fact viewed the warlock somewhere between a maggot and a slug – albeit a very powerful maggot or slug.

_*Extra Player’s Note*_: While unfortunately represented by a simple roll of the dice, those of us who prefer to keep to the logic, rarity and profound specialty of magic would not think of having our PC’s just “cracking” open a scroll, taking a Spellcraft check and casting from it. The studying of an incredibly powerful scroll for an entire day for us represents in fact an extreme rush by the Player Character to unearth its power. Under normal circumstances, the study of such a scroll would take many days, months or in the case of trying to fully understand Arcadys finest magics, years. Lucifus however was compelled by his agreement to Ugari to conjure the diabolical creature promised as quickly as possible upon his first ascension (to alienist). Lucifus’s ego and vanity were strong enough at this point that he did not question his use of the Arcadys Scroll. If viewed from a particular perspective in fact, Lucifus’s conduct could even be construed as somewhat gallant.


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## pogre (Dec 16, 2004)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> If viewed from a particular perspective in fact, Lucifus’s conduct could even be construed as somewhat gallant.




hmmmm... I wonder who's perspective that would be?   

Thanks for the quick update - good stuff again!


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## Mortepierre (Dec 16, 2004)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> I kind of realised that I most probably should have some sort of warning somewhere for this story hour. I don't think Eric's grandma would fully appreciate some of the places I intend to go with this tale. She would certainly find it a bumpy ride. However, everything has a purpose, rude or crass for the sake of nought but to be rude or crass does not sit well with me. Venturing into the pits of darkness that represent Lucifus's sordid past however are needed to fully understand the events to follow. The descent of Lucifus's soul has only just begun!
> 
> And by the way, I have not forgotten your own story hour either. I am preparing a precise, measured and full response to the world you are so graciously letting us enter.




I realize as well that this SH may not be for everyone but methink you have - so far - successfully used ‘mature’ material without going ‘overboard’ as some are wont to do on their first attempt. Others have done ‘worse’ and I have yet to see a single SH banned or closed for that reason. Including a warning to your readers was the most logical way to go in order to avoid that potential fate.

Thank you for taking the time to comment on my SH <bow>

I would rather have one loyal-but-shy reader than a dozen bumps per day. I take pleasure in writing and refuse to post anything before I am satisfied by the result. If it means a month of delay so be it. My ultimate goal is to provide something that can hopefully inspire other DMs (or players) in their own campaigns, not to log every day to see if my SH is still on the first page of these forums (but I wouldn’t mind it if it happened  )



			
				Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> Closing his eyes, he uttered the incantation that would nullify the seal’s abjurative magics… and with a twist of his hand, the seal was broken, the tightly bound parchment released, unfurling, expanding in girth, a sigh released like the sound of some distant soul’s anguish.
> 
> He carefully placed the skin upon the large even granite block in front of him, its flat grey darkness nurturing the exquisitely elegant weight of the scroll. With a single finger, he delicately opened the scroll’s length marvelling at the feel of the vellum, the coldness of the pure gold rod forming its spine tingled Lucifus as he contacted its perfection. From Lucifus’s closer observation, he thought the skin of some hellish and diabolical being, lovingly rubbed and kneaded, massaged and polished to the incredibly fine membrane it had become. The inks used upon the scroll were varied in vibrance, colour and material; the pigments seeming to lift off of the surface as every so often an arcane perturbance glistened across the sheet like some evanescent arcing of current - evidence of the extreme power held within its single page.




This is exactly why I enjoy reading your SH (and some others): evocative descriptions. When I reach the level of skill in English that will allow me to duplicate those on my own, I’ll be a happy author indeed!



			
				Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> Lucifus’s abilities of concentration and focus had been multiplied manyfold by the purchase of a small trinket, soon after the death of his former master Norrigan Salaiz in the bazaars of Amborna. The Ring of Nourishment (a.k.a. a ring of sustenance) enabled the user to never again have need of food or water nor the gentle benefit of many hours of sleep. Lucifus found that a short slumber was all that he required and even this, he could forego here and there with minimal effect. The extra hours of consciousness provided by the bauble allowed Lucifus a productivity bordering upon the epic; be it in the researching of innovative and original magics, the crafting of powerful items..




This is intriguing. I have always wondered if the 2 hours of daily sleep the ring necessitates adequately represent the 8 hours of rest a wizard needs to regain his spells. After all, an elf wizard who meditates 4 hours daily still must rest for another 4 hours before studying his spellbook again, so I was tempted to apply the same principle to the ring’s power. Now, however, I find myself wondering if I shouldn’t rethink my position. If you don’t mind me asking, did your DM authorize this without a long argument or did you have to convince him?



			
				Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> ..or the pleasuring of large proportions of the female gender.




lol!



			
				Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> While unfortunately represented by a simple roll of the dice, those of us who prefer to keep to the logic, rarity and profound specialty of magic would not think of having our PC’s just “cracking” open a scroll, taking a Spellcraft check and casting from it. The studying of an incredibly powerful scroll for an entire day for us represents in fact an extreme rush by the Player Character to unearth its power. Under normal circumstances, the study of such a scroll would take many days, months or in the case of trying to fully understand Arcadys finest magics, years. Lucifus however was compelled by his agreement to Ugari to conjure the diabolical creature promised as quickly as possible upon his first ascension (to alienist). Lucifus’s ego and vanity were strong enough at this point that he did not question his use of the Arcadys Scroll. If viewed from a particular perspective in fact, Lucifus’s conduct could even be construed as somewhat gallant.




I couldn’t agree more. My hat off to any DM or player willing to depart from the rules in order to make the game more logical or awe-inspiring. Once more, kudos to you (and your DM for going along with it).


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## Tony Vargas (Dec 17, 2004)

"P.S. It seems I'll have to be referring to my world as Erth as you have apparently beaten me to Urth  
....
Apologies for stealing Urth from you. In truth though, Paul constructed this world well over twenty years ago so he beat all of us to the punch. "

Though it may have been used by some other author even earlier, Gene Wolfe used 'Urth' as the name of a distant-future-history version of Earth, in 'Book of the New Sun.'  May be where your DM got it.  Or not, it's not that unique a take-off on 'Earth...'


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## John Q. Mayhem (Dec 20, 2004)

I've got some old Superman comics that have a parallel world called Urth in them.


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## Mortepierre (Jan 14, 2005)

BUMP 'cause I bet more than a few of us await Sarrash's arrival anxiously


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## pogre (Jan 16, 2005)

Mortepierre said:
			
		

> BUMP 'cause I bet more than a few of us await Sarrash's arrival anxiously




It's true!


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## Herremann the Wise (Jan 20, 2005)

*The Catalyst*

Hello everyone and apologies for not keeping you updated. Unfortunately, holidays have set me back a small ways in my writing. Things should be a little more regular now. I apologise if you have to go back and re-read stuff to pick up the thread of the story again.

_About Urth_
I asked Paul the DM and he just shook his shoulders - he had not seen it before. As you guys say though, it's a pretty obvious change on earth.



			
				pogre said:
			
		

> hmmmm... I wonder who's perspective that would be?



Well  ...
Not exactly a candlelit dinner with accompanying jewellery but as you pointed out, all a matter of perspective. Glad you're enjoying.



			
				mortepierre said:
			
		

> This is exactly why I enjoy reading your SH (and some others)



Thank you very much for the heartfelt feedback. It is gold. (And thanks for the bump - my very first).
I try my hardest to entertain. As for your own skills, I certainly would not be selling them short. You are a wonderful writer.

_Sarrash_
There is much to reveal here but also a couple of things to background. I think the wait will be worth it though.

***​
_At about this time elsewhere, in a dank and dripping cave deep in the lands of the Pianatha Tribe, the Shaman of that tribe was performing the gruesome rites of his most powerful divination; all for the culmination of his dread plans almost forty turns{1} in the making…_

The screams had receded somewhat to painful groans and sporadic oaths as Karodo, Shaman of the Pianatha focused above at the strung up and tortured form of one of the Strauchn. Captured and brought to him several days earlier, the fate of the pathetic warrior had been cruelly applied over this time. The heavy basalt boulder underneath the tortured, dangling body was dark with the splatters of blood, the uncongealed drips of further crimson fluid glowing in the harsh, shadowy light as they struck the rocks surface. All he needed now, mixed with the blood of his enemy was the shattering power of extreme pain and the spirits of divination would be satisfied. Karodo shuffled his ancient bones to the side of the rock and pulsed a command to one of his assistants.

He heard the muffled footsteps of respect as the attendant entered the shaman’s sanctum quickly and quietly, urgent to his summons. He could feel and sense if not see the boy’s fear. Where others had been gifted with orbs and the sight they provided, Karodo had instead been born bereft of vision, the sockets instead spawning calcified bone that had steadily grown over his lifetime. To look upon, Karodo’s face was grossly and demonically altered; the bones from his sockets were like horns adhered to his skull, one reaching to his right ear, and the other snaking up his forehead to his crown. His frightening appearance and dread aura as well as the helpless bleeding body strung up high above had the assistant cowering in fear. 

“Provide me with the bag of dust from yonder rock”, commanded Karodo, motioning towards a series of rocks with a variety of materials resting upon their surfaces. “After you have done this… bring in the wampa_{2}_.”
The assistant nervously moved towards the stone repository and sought the requested item. Karodo sensed him delicately lifting it making sure the dust of diamond contained within the skin did not spill out. He would have him tortured and killed for such an indiscretion. One of his many former attendants had been paraded naked through the entire village before being flayed alive for disposing of unwanted materials before being asked. He made sure that they knew they were never to do more than was asked and certainly not an iota less. He convulsed in pleasure, remembering the feeling of living bloodied flesh and skin in his hands, the screams of utter pain pleasing to the ear. Unfortunately, the current attendant had adjusted to the shaman’s required precision very quickly, the loss of several blackened fingers having expedited the learning process.

Karodo sat waiting, surprisingly impatient. He had spent almost forty turns of the sun waiting for this point in time. Soon his plans would be complete, the prophesised fate of his soul to be fulfilled. He was standing upon the precipice of his fated victory. He would finally destroy those who had stood in his way, rising over the pitiful tribes that hindered his path to greatness. The celestials above were in position, the phases of prophecy and fate aligned to this point in time. With the destruction of the Strauchn clan as the catalyst, Karodo, Dread Shaman of the Pianatha would soon achieve the immortality he craved.

His reverie was broken by the sense of movement within the cave. He could hear the angered snarls of the wampa like the cracking of whips at the cave’s entrance. It was brought into his presence, tied up and bent backwards; it still strained in fury against its bonds with its powerful muscles. He could feel its life force, young, not fully developed. Its senses would be rich and undulled by age.

“Bring the beast here and place it upon the Lahrum_(3)_. It must not touch the ground”, intoned the blind shaman. The attendant was struggling to hold the creature. He manoeuvred it but suddenly stopped fearing it had somehow touched the cave floor to the side of the sacrificial rock. He was paralysed, waiting for the master’s reaction. There were several moments of silence.

“You would have me wait? Do you feel the need to displease me?”
The young half-orc of some intelligence suddenly tried to move the constrained creature but its hind had been freed from his grasp. It lurched out ferociously with its back legs before the attendant once more grasped its hindquarters, the wicked claws renting deep gouges in his hands. He used all his strength to finally still it. He could feel the master’s unseeing gaze upon him. Judging him.

Karodo waved his hand at the creature calling a spirit to the prime. “You may go and await your fate”, he whispered with menace to the attendant. The creature had been constrained by means beyond the lads understanding. He quickly departed, the smell of his terror left lingering in the cave. He sensed the life force of the wampa once more. Fear was now starting to bore through its body, a completely alien and unnatural emotion for the beast; the realisation that it had gone from caged hunter to helpless prey. Karodo focused upon the spirit embedded in its body preparing it to suddenly coalesce and focus upon the creatures sensitive back and nerve centre. He called forth yet another spirit to extinguish the dangling life of the living flesh above the sacrificial rock. He then pulsed the command and the wampa reared in absolute agony as the spirit it housed focused entirely upon it’s back. In its arched death throws, its spastic movements gradually slowed as the pain it was experiencing swelled beyond its capacity. Before its body stilled, Karodo commanded and bound the spirits of divination to his will.

They did not respond favourably.

***​
_Several minutes later, with the spattered remains of the Strauchn warrior and wampa having been blasted and strewn across the cave floor, walls and ceiling…_

Karodo was still and unmoving, quiet rage having distorted his features when the voice came to him unbidden. “So there is a new player in your game. It has come to thwart our ambition.”
He ignored the voice of the demon spirit.
“Now is not the time for silence oh brother. You must act and act quickly or we will fail. Your fate slips through your fingers while you…”
The spirit was blasted back to its resting place, the shaman’s pulse of pure energy stunning it.

Five turns earlier, Karodo whilst calling the spirits of the dead to his command had rebounded as the powerful demon had snuck through the opened portal trying to capture and possess his soul. It failed. Karodo’s victory over the demon however had not been complete. It had now affixed itself in some unholy symbiosis to his being and could not be removed by force, trick or bargain. While he could push it from his consciousness with ease, the constant effort would eventually tax him. The demon for reasons of its own remained passive at this point.

Karodo on impulse decided to enact his plans, not because of the demonic instruction but because the various prophecies he had revealed all pointed to this moment. How could one aberrant divination spoil half a lifetimes worth of preparation? It must not. He would defy the most recent and pathetic message of the spirits. It had warned him that a mortal “not of the blood”_{4}_ could spoil his plans but only if it could touch him. He thought some more.

He would remain here in his domain and cave, protected from intrusion. No one could penetrate the protective wards he had established to touch him here. He would be safe from the divination. He must. But why would the spirits of fate deliver him this message now. It did not make sense unless…

He called Jengus, the massive Leader of the Pianatha Clan into the cave. While much younger than the shaman, Jengus was considered of middling age for his role of leadership. At twenty-seven turnings of the sun, he was a giant of a man, a veteran of war brought up suckling upon the milk of hate. He was the perfect tool for this mission. It would be “The” mission: the catalyst.

A huge figure stalked into the cave entrance, intoning the protective spirit words given him. He advanced with care if not in fear. At almost eight feet in height, he was revered and feared by those of the tribe. He bowed his colossal frame towards Karodo, his head touching the ground. The shaman sensed his presence. The spirits of fate seemed to hang closely to his being. He was the one chosen to destroy the flame of their enemy.

“The time has come Jengus. I have spoken to the spirits and they are in accord. They will aid your passage, strengthen your arm and sharpen your axe.” Karodo motioned towards a tall spear, carefully pushed into the cave floor. “Her head must be on this spike before the current moon vanishes. Otherwise we will be defeated before the moon swells once more.” He pushed his will towards a place behind the gigantic warrior and leader. A spirit of the air swirled immediately into existence. Karodo motioned towards the sacrificial rock; the creature as if pulled, glided towards the Lahrum, swelling upon the rocks essence. “This creature will guide your path. You will be invisible to any of the Strauchn and so your journey will be without interruption.”

“I will not fail Master”, said Jengus, his low voice an echoed rumbling in the dark cave.
Karodo motioned the warrior forward and handed him something. “This will protect you. When the task is fulfilled, snap it in half and you will return to this place immediately. Do not fail me.”

Jengus kneeled and took the charm. He placed his head to the ground once more before departing the shaman’s presence. The journey to the outcropping of their enemy would normally take several days. He must do it in one.

***​
_{1}_ Some of the more advanced Derman tribes who paid closer attention to the movements of the celestials measured the passing of time. Like other cultures, time was split into factors of days (or suns), months (or moons) and years (or in this case turns).

_{2}_ A wampa was a psuedo-feline species native to the Derman coastline. Its senses were like lightning, its manner quick and ferocious. Its use in the current exercise was for its heightened senses. The pain it was to experience would be beyond that of a hundred dying clansmen, thanks to its dynamically extreme and sensitive physiology.

_{3}_ The Lahrum or sacrificial stone was intrinsic to most work of the various shamaness’ or shamans around Derman. It was the typical centrepiece of any work of importance.

_{4}_ “Not of the Blood” or Feirgha is the name given to any of the "lesser" humanoid beings not of a Derman clan or tribe. Those from other parts of Urth would fall into this category.


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## pogre (Jan 24, 2005)

This update, which I somehow missed earlier, caused me to re-read this whole thread. Good stuff - very good.


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## Mortepierre (Jan 25, 2005)

pogre said:
			
		

> Good stuff - very good.




I concur! This keeps getting better and better


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## Mortepierre (Feb 12, 2005)

Page 3 already? For shame!

BUMP


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## pogre (Feb 17, 2005)

I'm sure you're busy, but I would like to see an update if you have time...

in other words:

BUMP


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## Herremann the Wise (Mar 9, 2005)

*The Threads of Fate Twist Once More*

Hello again everyone.
Apologies for the delay, it has been a busy time with our office moving as well as other commitments. It has taken me a while to get this story in order but I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labour.

_The Dawn of the Following Morning…_​
_A small tattered group who had miraculously escaped the previous day’s sea raid finally make it to the rugged shoreline holding onto several planks and a barrel, barely a league to the south of the primary encampment of the Strauchn Clan. Dehydrated, exposed and without significant equipment, there is conflict within the group._

Isaac looked across the narrow beach of darkened sand. He searched for any signs of hostility but failed to see more than several birds flying in low swift swoops from place to place in the dawn light. The beach was bordered by a mass of high rocky crags at its northerly end and a hillside of brush and gorse to the south skirted by scree, loose sticks and other detritus. Large grey boulders emerged from the southern hillside like massive granite monitors surveying and guarding the vicinity. An unnatural quiet pervaded the place as the sun momentarily breached the foreign horizon before several darkened clouds hid its rays once more.

Less than two days before, the Sea Lady’s Passion had been making excellent Northerly progress towards its Ayland destination when the terror of several Derman longships had struck. The Captain had initially tried to outrun the barbarians but a slackening breeze, frenzied Derman passion and a momentary lapse of concentration from the helmsman resulted in the ship thrusting to windward, the rudder jamming and the force of it all throwing the helpless pilot to the deck. The defences of the ship while significant were not used to the determined methods of the Derman and thus barbarian purchase upon board was gained without significant resistance.

Between the firing of the ship, a caustic smoke and the hell of numerous barbarians unleashing their terrible strength and might upon sailor, mercenary and passenger alike, the ship had little hope of survival. Seeing this, Isaac disobeyed his charge of the ship’s protection and fled with several others. Through what could be no better described than the hand of fate herself protecting them from the Derman, half the group had survived the elements and exposure to make land, somewhere upon the Northern Derman coastline. The quiet of the beach with only the subtle hush of the sea’s wash to augment it was almost like a nirvana. At least the situation could have been worse if not by much thought Isaac at this point.

He tried to look down at the two other men who had survived the horrific journey but his legs were like jelly underneath him, the rush of blood forcing his body painfully back to the harsh shale sand. All three of them were naked except for the sodden bloodstained rags that clung to their bodies. The fat bastard of a priest had somehow survived when others more able had disappeared in the water behind them. He had held to a barrel of wine with a faith far surpassing that to his god.  No wonder he had been useless on board; Isaac could spot a charlatan a mile away and this fat bastard was one of the worst. How fickle was fate when one such as he could survive but one like Kalar fall. The other man lying there, he did not know except that his name was Moro, a wiry sailor from the ship. His features where sparse, his body lean. He attempted to say something but could not utter more than a hoarse and scratched whisper.

The priest’s podgy fingers still grabbed onto the barrel as it was buoyantly lifted from the sand by the incoming water, threatening to return to the sea once more. His fat, pink and bruised body was doubled over like some quivering mass of rotten jellyfish. His voice was then heard, a surprisingly clear tenor. “Is this land I feel beneath my bones? Hath our pilgrimage to hell finished?”
“I believe it has only just begun priest,” croaked Isaac as he looked up the slopes once more to see if they had attracted any native attention. The hillside was still clear. “We must find shelter and soon. I have no idea where exactly we are or who else lives here except perhaps more of those barbarians. I don’t wish to find out either so hurry up and find your legs, we need to get out of here.”
Moro stood stretching his legs painfully with a limp while the priest rolled over onto his stomach, his gut the size of two men. The priest then heaved his awful mass upon his knees with a protracted groan. By Terrefin he must have some strength to lug that body around Isaac thought. 

“Ize ave me a knife. Tis all but”, Moro said as he checked the back of his leg, the gash reddening as he spoke. It seeped fresh blood with his movements, the anger of infection having taken hold. Isaac knew the man would not be walking in a day, would be fevered the next and likely dead the day after. He looked to his own wounds – several gashes and a raft of broken fingers on his useless left hand – as a sense of hopelessness gripped him. Isaac realised the full consequences of their situation. They were as good as dead.

“If we stay on the beach, we may be able to hail a passing boat”, said the priest, a ridiculous sense of hope upon his features.
Moro not believing what he’d just heard quickly retorted in stupefied anger, “You stinkin’ stupid massa orse turds. Who the hell dya thinks gonna come past here? A ship fulla whores to plays with your toddle? Those Derman bastards will take one look atcha un be feasting on ya privates before ya can say…”
“Quiet!” whispered Isaac with intensity. “There ain’t going to be no ship and I don’t want no Derman choking on the priest’s slug. We’ll get away from here and then work out what we’re going to do. Moro, with luck, you’ll walk for another day. And you priest{1}… just don’t upset him… or me.”

The priest looked away as if hurt by the comments and language while Moro swore in pain as he tried to walk past him. Isaac himself looked up at the darkening sky as if the early morning storm was waiting for the worst possible moment to start reaping the coastline. With no idea of direction, nothing but rags upon their bodies and little more than a sailor’s knife to protect them, they headed slowly over the hillside. Little did they realise that the sharp eyes of a clansman almost a mile away had spotted movement high upon the southern hills – the area known by the Strauchn as the Furg Harta or “Lonely Hills”. With speed and alacrity, the clansman headed back to gather others for the hunt.

***​
Dannikin, former priest of Galasso fell once more to the ground, his bare feet stumbling upon a hidden rock. Well over six foot tall, he did his best to keep up with the other two but he kept falling further and further behind. His lack of faith had tortured him for many months since his expulsion. His current circumstance was the result of trying to gain his faith once more. He had sworn that he would find Galasso’s faith to which the cruel Arch-cleric of their monastery said that indeed he would. In fact Galasso would forgive him if he journeyed to the Aylish{2} territories far abroad. The snide little man! He must have known that something like this would happen. Such were the thoughts of the former priest.

Dannikin’s misguided and hateful reverie was only disturbed by the two ahead quickly going to ground.  They had ventured to the top of a craggy hillside. The man he only knew as Isaac got up slowly, realising that what he had quickly glimpsed had not moved. Even though Dannikin was a ways behind, he could smell a thoroughly putrescent tang in the air. Dannikin cautiously stepped to the others position. They all ventured a dozen steps towards a disgusting scene ahead. Rotting half eaten heads had been jammed on stakes, a mass of feculent flesh stuffed into the distended jaws. The three men once of Amborna stood still and in silence, the extreme brutality before them totally and barbarically foreign.

As they all stood as cold and frozen granite a rasping voice of anguished despair was heard. “You will all die soon, like those of the Pianatha if you continue towards yonder valley.”
The three turned around as one to see the ragged form of an old woman, naked except for a grey staff. Her body had been withered to blotched skin and in fact the feint reek of noisome decomposition emanated directly from her position several strides behind them. She had appeared as if by the foulest magic. They would have run except for fear. Moro drew his knife and held it timidly in front of him as he mouthed a prayer to Terrefin.
“Put your impotent steel away fool. I do not seek your deaths and its edge would do nothing to me besides.”
“If ever your faith was worth anything priest, now is the time to show us” said Isaac, his desperation palpable amongst the rotten air.
Dannikin heard the voices but quivered, the entire situation surreal and beyond his comprehension. Surely they had all passed on unknown to a hell on Urth or elsewhere.

“Your friend is no priest. His god’s foul trinket has not been hung from his neck for some time. Even as I speak to you, your death is but moments away; those of the Strauchn seek your death and will take your lives as easily as they will spit on your corpses and rend your pathetic heads from your bodies. However, I have need of you and can promise you safety for a while. Follow me if you value what life is left to each of you.”
With this she turned away and headed back down the valley they had traversed. She cast her staff in a circle, a dark cave appearing from craggy nothingness in front of her. She waited patiently, beckoning them inside.

Isaac looked at the other two before staggering ahead. He stopped short of her foul form before continuing. They had no options left. Surely any death at her hand would be better than that at the hands of some barbaric clansman. Unfortunately, his imagination was not as good as Dannikin's. Fearfully, the priest joined the other two quickly as the hoots and echoed calls of several barbarian half-orcs were heard. They entered the cave just in time as the clansman launched themselves with long strides into the shallow valley, the threatening storm erupting at this precise moment. The undead form of Ochrisi na Dura(3) laughed at the foolishness of mortals as she shadowed the cave entrance once more. The revenge that drove her hatred was almost complete. She now had the prophesised tools she had been waiting so long for.

***​
{1} Most priests had no divine ability; they were merely experts of theology and some of healing. At this point, Isaac believed the "Priest" of Galasso a fraudster, out to mulct good citizens and live on their misguided good will.

{2} The Aylish territories were best described as a province stuck in the old ways. Barely expressing a desire to leave its dark aged and feudalistic outlook, Ayland traded with the far away southern Ambornan ports for an erratic if sometimes spectacular profit. Various merchantmen could be found traversing the Sea of Amber periodically throughout the Urthen calendar year.

(3) Ochrisi na Dura was the former shaman of the Strauchn, defeated by the current Shamaness Ugari.


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## pogre (Mar 10, 2005)

Read this story people - it's good stuff!


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## Herremann the Wise (Mar 14, 2005)

pogre said:
			
		

> Read this story people - it's good stuff!




Thanks Pogre for the compliment. I have actually wondered how many people actually read this Story Hour. Should I pimp it more? I seem to get a good number of reads per update (about 30) but I wonder how many of these are people actually reading it and how many are reading a line and going, "yeah right" and just clicking off. If you are reading, post a line or two if you feel the need - it's nice to hear from the audience here and there (I really appreciate any comments). 

Anyway, things in the actual gameworld are really starting to heat up. In fact, we have planned a three day Easter weekend marathon of playing this game - permission from wives etc. and everything. Not bad for a bunch of thirty, forty and fifty somethings. I think we all want to feel that we're 16 again playing. I have a goodly sized backlog of stuff to do and will have significantly more soon.

As for the frequency of updates, my additions to it should be a little more consistent now that we have the computers running properly at work (about once to twice a week). I hope you enjoy as the maelstrom of separate threads of the weave intertwine into the big finale involving the appearance of Sarrash.

*A Chance Meeting*​
_In a place perhaps best described as… Elsewhere_

The void of utter nothingness stretched beyond perception. In fact perception is a difficult and fleeting concept when there is nothing to perceive. Haunted echoes of memories might coalesce with strength enough to have some sort of meaning to the isolated soul but such events were random at best. There was no pain here nor light nor any real thought or sentience; just complete isolation from everything else in the multiverse. Different cultures have represented different ideals of purgatory in many different ways. The truth in fact is perhaps far more mundane. There is just nothingness.

For the battered and racked soul of Orzhan Tahg, former Storm Soldier and lost Priest of Galasso, the random pulses of memory were perhaps more active than others. His suffering had been near complete at the hands of Lucifus Cray and so his tortured soul writhed sporadically in tormented reminiscence. The spasms of mindless recollection would eventually dull merging what was left of his soul into the void. At this point, several darkened images of some greater hulking beast of the Hells adhered to the wisps of his essence before dissipating. For some souls, the memories would slowly eke out of them over a period of time long enough to have no real meaning. Others like that of Orzhan Tahg’s would quickly and rapidly expunge what energies they still possessed. His soul would soon be one with the void.

At this point however, a node of power entered this place, divine in nature radiating a strong glow of holiness. Its time was short to complete its mission and so it used its highest magic to navigate to its destination: the proximity of Orzhan Tahg’s ravaged soul. Having found its target, it reached out acting as a conduit between itself and Aralais, one of Galasso’s seven Demi-solars. The divine power coursed through the tattered wisps left of the soul in front of it, quickening a sentience lost and that would normally be beyond recovery. The soul’s first thought in this strange rebirthing was insane and extreme horror. The divine servant then healed the woes of the soul for a moment; it would lose the soul entirely unless it could guide the soul to hear its message. Again the servant acted as a conduit but this time for the Father of the Beltratian Gods. The voice of the angel sounded breaking the complete silence of the void.

Through one of his servants, Galasso spoke.

***​
_A short time earlier amongst the rapturous wonders of the Heavens and the Halls of Galasso…_

“Time is short my daughter to undertake this. His soul will soon be lost to the void and be forever beyond even our Good Father’s reach.”
“Father, are you sure of this endeavour? I will sacrifice my being to the void in an instant if you but command but will it all be for nought?”
“You will be under The Good Father’s protection for long enough to join with the soul. I will come for you if something goes awry… but I trust and have faith in you as you do in me and as we both hath in The Good Father.”
“His soul will not want to return father after what it has been through. The light of Galasso hath been extinguished from him. I truly might not have time to touch him with Galasso’s forgiveness and make him understand. His soul must come of its own volition… otherwise we will have spawned an unbeing {1}.”
“You must find what ember remains and stoke it well with the righteous faith of Galasso’s glow. We must save this soul.”
The exchange between the Demi-solar Aralais and his daughter was interrupted by an aura of divine and complete magnificence. The two immediately bowed and prostrated in His radiance.
“Arise my children and hath faith in me.” Galasso’s form was outlined in brilliance as He looked down at His two servants. “I am restrained in my actions as they art governed by the Laws of the Heavens and The Compact. While I will not sunder or break this Covenant, there is something I canst and will do. If ye can but carry the light faithful daughter of my beloved servant, I will guideth this soul to me once more.”
Aralais was surprised and confused by the words of his master: such an action would contravene the details of the Compact. Galasso however in His enormous wisdom had chosen to act directly. This stirred a divine passion and reverence in the Demi-solar once again to his God. He smiled knowingly, finally understanding and basked in the glow of Galasso.

***​
_And returning once more…_

Orzhan’s soul wept tears of troubled memories, as the consciousness that was once part of his soul returned. It felt unnatural…and cold. A warmth was there just beyond reach, tempting it. It was then that he, Orzhan Tahg awakened, naked, being spoken to by his former deity. Galasso penetrated the clouded haze of the soul’s perception that had just evaporated from His voice. “Ye art in pain, my child. My divine servant hath come to assist your return from this place of darkness.”
The soul tried to scream but could not. It instead spoke in delirium, “Heaven’s voice of wasted breath… depart from me, as I am unworthy for your love and warmth… go far away and forget of me… leave the void to consume my soul… eradicate me from an existence I do not deserve.”
“Quiet my child. The void can consume beyond my power to redeem. I hath need of ye. Ye hath a purpose in heaven and ye still hath my love and forgiveness.”
“What is thy purpose Lord Galasso? What need could you have of this sullied and blackened soul of mine?”
“I wish ye to right the wrong ye hath committed. Only thou canst do this. Only thou may heal the cleave ye hath created.”
The soul started to unravel but was once more divinely assisted by the daughter of Aralais. It tried to fight against the divine light forcing it into some form of sanity but failed. It wished for no more than denial and non-existence. It wanted to embrace the void and nothingness and non-being. However, there was a spark, an ember if you will. A blackened cinder of hate resided in the soul. It glowed into life despite the presence of The most divine being before it. “I will have revenge. For this I must have revenge upon the being that lead me here. You cannot deny me this!”
“Your motives maketh it difficult for me. The revenge ye crave is not yours to reap. Remember my child; it was not he that causeth thou soul to find its way to this place. It was ye and ye alone.”
The soul wept tears of utter anguish as the veneer of denial and responsibility was suddenly displaced by Galasso.
“Will you return with me to perform this final task?”
The soul was silent, afraid, untrusting of the boundless love and forgiveness being offered. With any other response being futile, the soul of Orzhan Tahg capitulated, fighting through its self-loathing.
“I will accept my Lord”.

***​
{1} To enter the blackened depths of the void is to risk one’s soul to be lost forever. The actions taken here by Aralais and his daughter Symphenia are dangerous in the extreme. Only with the assistance of Galasso himself do they truly stand a chance to resist the pull of the void. While it would be possible for an angelic being to survive the void for a short period of time, to protect a quickened soul as well would strain even the Demi-solars abilities. However, in rebirthing a soul and leaving it unprotected, the danger of producing an unbeing mounts.

An unbeing is a soul that has the power to evade the void for long enough to escape to another plane – somewhat similar to moving into the ethereal and then escaping but in a different way. Upon another plane, the newly created unbeing could grow in terrifying power being able to pull other creatures essences into the void to consume. There have only ever been a handful of unbeings, hunted down at extreme cost to the heavens. It is not a mistake to be made lightly.


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## Mortepierre (Mar 15, 2005)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> Thanks Pogre for the compliment. I have actually wondered how many people actually read this Story Hour. Should I pimp it more? I seem to get a good number of reads per update (about 30) but I wonder how many of these are people actually reading it and how many are reading a line and going, "yeah right" and just clicking off. If you are reading, post a line or two if you feel the need - it's nice to hear from the audience here and there (I really appreciate any comments).




Still there. Still reading. Still very much enjoying your SH. And more than ready to bump it back up again if needs be


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## pogre (Mar 16, 2005)

The best way to get others to read your story hour is to ask them to - I certainly would vouch for your writing ability! 

Second, if you can manage a couple of updates a week it will help you get your readership jumpstarted.

Finally, reading other story hours and leaving comments can get others to check yours out.

You definitely deserve the attention - so pimp away!


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## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit (Mar 18, 2005)

You can add me to the number of readers who have been hooked. You've a got a pretty good writing style (nice echoes of Vance here and there, especially when Lucifus is actually "on stage") and I'm looking forward to how all the different threads come together.

Personally, I tend not to get into new storyhours until they run into at least two pages - I find that with all but the most striking ones it takes a good few posts to get into the story and characters well enough to able to come back to them when new stuff goes up (if that makes sense  :\ ).

All of which is a long-winded way of saying POST MORE   !


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## Bryon_Soulweaver (Mar 18, 2005)

I'm eating popcorn, mouth and fingers are usually too busy. AND KEEP WRITING!!!


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## pogre (Mar 22, 2005)

If you promise to update I will personally guarantee you 15 more readers.


Right after I collect my money from the National Bank of Nigeria where a long lost relative of mine has left over $2 million dollars!


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## Bryon_Soulweaver (Mar 22, 2005)

Nice, you a rich ****** ****** now.

(Sneaks away with $20,000 of your big bank account.) Nah, just kidding. DONT SHOOT ME!!:\


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## Herremann the Wise (Mar 31, 2005)

Thanks everyone for responding. This update has certainly been one of the trickiest but also the most rewarding. Having to rewrite half of it because the computer froze was fun... not!!!
However, I hope it has been worth the wait.

By the way Pogre, I'm glad you heard back from them. Personally, I'm not happy that they are withholding information on my investments with them...    

And so now we have the episode some of you have been patiently waiting for...

*The Gating of Sarrash*

_Deep within a Lesser Hollow in one of the darkest of Hell’s Greater Pits…_

The cacophony of wretched souls and their pitiful moaning combined with the sporadic screaming of unknown entities to produce a dizzying fountain of sound. Blackness of visage and soul was all around, only corrupted here and there by the silent glow of red heat from within numerous rocky depressions. Over one such emanation of tainted light hung the undying body of some pathetic creature, strung up by it’s own distorted ligaments and sinew. The wracks of interminable pain flickered across its indistinct features along with the shadows of various small creatures and imps, flying up to whisper messages of pain to the eternal captive. What life or purpose the being had before its capture was lost now forever. Magicked so it could never depart its ceaseless and unending pain, it suffered the worst of imaginable fates. Sarrash was a cruel master. Sarrash was a terrifying enemy.

A heated wind then swept harshly through the hollows centre causing the grounds heavy blackened ash to stir like tiny maelstroms in a sea of absolute evil. A servant of Sarrash – one of the massive hellish beings of diabolical rank {1} at his disposal - suddenly appeared looking around from its newly established and slightly elevated position. The haunted sounds of the hollow receded and swelled like some insane chorus of forgotten souls unheeding of this latest appearance. There was one however who did notice. Using corrupted senses, the undying soul attached to this particular body repelled in terror, the impulse sending an echoed tightening to muscles and sinew long since turned to hardened rope. As if somehow reacting to the psychic convulsion, numerous engorged maggots were displaced from their bone-caged home, falling from the body’s ribcage to the heated pit below with a spitting crackle. There was no escape for the captive as the obese and corpulent fiend slowly progressed to the vicinity intent upon the torture and torment of this captive’s soul.

However, another sudden appearance distracted the diabolical servant as well as the undying soul.  This time, a burst of fetid and superheated air mushroomed out from the monstrous visage in the centre of the hollow. The appearance of Sarrash was terrifying. A complete expulsion of dribbling grubs erupted from the now shaking ribcage, emptying completely from the putrid body as the massive form of Sarrash quickly swung around, its speed totally belying its bulk and height {2}. Its semblance of tattered robes whipped around, flung violently outwards by a hidden, personal and constant tempest of surrounding wind. It abruptly stilled, focusing its vile gaze towards its servant: boring into the obese minion. Sarrash’s true name had been spoken. The diabolical servant froze upon the instant. Sarrash’s face was as a flensed skull, almost of a size as the mark of its gaze. Orbs had not graced the devil’s blackened sockets for an eternity; instead holes of an absolute darkness penetrated into Sarrash’s monstrous braincase. A density of erupted bony protrusions graced the skull’s crown while an overall sense of death and disease hung close to the entire aspect of Sarrash. Its jaw then opened producing a wail of complete horror. Sarrash’s true name had been called.

Carried in Sarrash’s left claw was the mangled body of some balor, its throat and jaw removed, its horns driven backwards through its skull, its explosive finale corrupted. The prized carcass of the balor however was dropped upon the ground, forgotten as Sarrash’s wailing continued fighting some unseen presence; Sarrash’s massive body twisted in maniacal resistance. On this occasion, Sarrash failed to defy the magick that entangled then removed it. The sucking intake of air lifted the hollow’s ashen covering from the ground as the void left by Sarrash was filled. A quiet then enveloped the hollow.

Haltingly, the grossly proportioned servant looked upon the prized body of the balor. It ventured a glance to either side then in a frenzy of psychotic hunger and greed, it lunged using ungainly corpulent steps towards the demon’s carcass. However with Sarrash now gone, the balor’s body had returned to some semblance of its normal abyssal equilibrium and presently exploded in an enormously engorged and loosed spring of eructed energy. The hollow of Sarrash was for the most part no more – a particular soul happily blasted into the placid serenity of utter destruction.

***​
_Earlier upon the headland supporting the littered abodes of the Strauchn Clan and in particular the sizeable pavilion of the Shamaness Ugari… _

Light from a myriad of differently shaped and colored candles illuminated the inner sanctum of Ugari’s pavilion as Lucifus Cray carefully floated above his almost finished creation. Laid out upon the cleared ground was a well-scribed pentacle of large dimension, taking up almost the room’s entirety. The only other addition to the area was the crafting of three smaller concentric circles replete with the ancient symbols of warding from which the petitioner was to complete the castings of magic that would trap a being inside the pentagram. Lucifus was cautious testing each of the many specific and arcane triangulatures forming the work. The careful augmenting and attenuation of each of these was imperative in ensuring some measure of protection and safety as well as overall success to the program at hand.

The somewhat dank yet comfortable conditions within the tent belied the ferocity of the vicious storm outside. The raging winds buffeted the sides of the pavilion but through the careful application of specific magicks, only an occasional stirring of wind through the interior or a thrumming above in the web of ropes keeping the pavilion in position could be occasionally observed. Lucifus’s familiar Winter {3} looked on from above, hopping from rope to rope fascinated by her master’s prudential exercises and arcane augmentations. She would give the occasional comment of dissent or approval, her mood one of enthusiasm and excitement compared to the surface placidity of her master. Lucifus’s designs were almost complete.

Lucifus had devoted most of the day to studying the Arcadys scroll and his current diagrammatic efforts were carefully tied to his discoveries {4}. There were several elements of interest in his current work. Lucifus needed to carefully modify each point of the pentagram based upon his present reference upon the prime, the current planar positioning of the intended target plane as well as a variety of synchronous factors between the planes, only known by those with dedicated expertise in the field. However, Lucifus was at a loss in terms of exact identification of his intended target in terms of overall power and standing. This caused several conundrums that could be overcome with the solving of several formulas of copious variables – a difficult and lengthy task for most but something quickly accomplished on the run by Lucifus.

It was at this point however that Lucifus had his first conception of doubt. What if “Sarrash” was not as powerful as he had hoped? The thought of some smaller diabolical lackey, impotent to the proposed task caused Lucifus to pause in the middle of attenuating by two paracepts the pentacles third point. The incipient visage momentarily compounded, swimming through his mind like a hazy chimera of invocational disaster before being quickly expunged from his thought processes {5}. Lucifus’s internal confidence and equilibrium was quick to re-establish.

It was during this small crisis of invocational faith that an unexpected guest interrupted Lucifus. Tunthi, drenched from the fierce storm outside, his mop of tangled hair pasted to his features spoke several words to the tuk-tuk. “I kill you and throw you off cliff!”
The fact that he did not advance further into the room led Lucifus to believe that the words were more inarticulate threat than immediate course of action. Lucifus waited patiently for more explanation but the half-orc had obviously not rationalized or conceived inserting a qualification into the previous statement.

Lucifus smiled in answer before saying, “You will sit on skull of Karodo and Jengus… whilst picking the meat from their bones by the time I am finished.”
Tunthi had difficulty following the florid speech although the overall tenor of confidence rang through the larger unintelligible words. For the moment, he struggled for a cogent response.
“You will be leader over all. Any woman will answer your call.”
To this a slowly increasing grin evolved, splitting Tunthi’s features; the image of sexual domination planted firmly within his limited faculties. His moments of fantasizing were distracted by additional information from Lucifus. “Tell Shamaness Ugari that I am ready to serve her needs.”
Tunthi, about to follow the instructions stopped, realising he was being ordered by the tuk-tuk. He would have abused Lucifus but the thought of displeasing Ugari was not something he wanted to contemplate. Tunthi hurried out of the room to find the Shamaness, the inner sanctum subconsciously making him uncomfortable on several levels.

***​
_A short time later…_

Ugari sat to the side of the pentacle upon several cushions of soft hide. Her hair was carefully arranged in a ceremonial coiffure signifying some element of tribal history beyond Lucifus’s knowledge. Lucifus thought she was quite pretty; chin held high in the dappled candlelight as she carefully examined the room trying to internalize the significant arcane constructions inside her private sanctum.
“So it will serve your will without hesitation?” she asked in her deliciously thick accent.

Lucifus trying to think of the most positive way of answering the tricky question continued with his explanation. “Not quite. It will try to escape the arcane binding of the trap but in this it will fail. It will thus be forced to make negotiation with me to ensure its freedom.” Lucifus licked his lips before saying, “and this is where we will bargain the service out of it. While on the surface this may seem a dangerous task, to one expert in the field such as myself, it is somewhat routine and everyday.”
Ugari smiled but sensed a certain level of bravado on Lucifus’s part. The opportunity of victory though could almost be tasted in the air, drowning out any thoughts of difficulty or possible exigence. In fact neither of the pair seemed truly cognizant of any impending danger {6}.

Lucifus lifted the scroll carefully demonstrating its magnificence to Ugari. It glistened with power.
“I will now cast the preparatory magic and then… I will unleash Arcadys’ power into the Seventh Gate of Hell {7}. Prepare to look upon the weapon that will seal your final victory over the Pianatha.”
Ugari smiled a grin of pure insanity.

Lucifus cast the final protective magics before lifting the Arcadys scroll to his view. A slow dimming of candles greeted Lucifus’s incantation of the scroll’s initiator. With careful and precise enunciations, Lucifus intoned the scroll’s contents, each part reigniting brilliant illumination from one of the pentacle’s points. Casting the magics upon the vellum in an invocational direction {8}, Lucifus continued on relentlessly as sweat started to appear upon his taut and constricted features. Even the distraction of Winter flapping down to his shoulder could not stop the syllables of power tumbling from his straining lips. Consummating the final fricative of the Grand Gating spell of Arcadys and with a powerful and dramatic sweep of his flourishing hand, a bursting of brilliant incandescence struck the entire outline of the pentacle. 

With an explosive and blazing thrust, the entire pavilion was immediately lifted over a hundred feet into the night sky through sheets of driving rain, pushed upwards by the sudden and horrific appearance of the Greater Devil Sarrash. A scream of absolute defiance penetrated the entire outcropping of headland as the sonic bombardment issuing from the Devil’s impossibly stretched mouth struck the area like an enormous crack of reverberant thunder. Unbelievable pain quickly stirred into unbridled fury as it twisted against its bonds with deranged and manic ferocity. Waves of panic struck the peoples of the Strauchn as hundreds of the clan ran away from the massive entity that had engulfed the spiritual circle of their home; gouts of exploding flames bursting in random spastic directions. With the rain driving in, the storm increasing in fury as if in answer to the appearance of the colossal entity, Sarrash sought with savage movement for the orchestrator of its current condition upon the prime. Adjacent to its hideously clawed feet over seventy feet below its gaze was the soaked and floating form of Lucifus Cray, comatose with glazed stare at the product of his creation.

Without a wasted thought, Sarrash blasted apart Lucifus’s frail protections, bent over with savage rancor and swung a massive claw to rip Lucifus’s head and body in twain.   

***​
{1} There are many common devils, from the highest pit fiend to the lowest lemure in the Nine Greater Pits of Hell. However, there are numerous types of “individualised” and unique devils who have lived long enough to slowly evolve from the regularity of the previously mentioned “common” types. When a fiend had evolved far enough from its original concept, it was considered to have achieved a rank or place amongst other hellish progenitors. This diabolical rank varied based upon the deeds and reputation of the devil concerned. The servant represented here was of one of the lower ranks.
A quick sidenote: The regular use of the impersonal pronoun “it” is normally used when referring to fiendish beings where gender has no physiological or psychological significance. While most diabolical beings are assumed to be male and are referred to as such, only a select few actually have functional genitalia.

{2} Sarrash literally towered over most of the other devils amongst the Nine Greater Pits. Very few amongst the ranks of diabolical beings provide as large a presence as Sarrash. At over eighty feet in height, its presence is enough to terrify the life out of most living beings. As an angel fallen from heaven almost an eternity ago, millennia of hatred, pillage and evil have totally ruined Sarrash’s appearance although there are still corrupted vestiges of its once celestial origin in terms of appearance and might. Perhaps because of this, Sarrash’s rank amongst others of the Nine Greater Pits of Hell was somewhat limited; of a middling power at best.

{3} Winter had been a constant companion for Lucifus through good times and bad. Perhaps more than anyone else, she understood him. Her involvement while not direct provided significant support to Lucifus in his arcane pursuits.

{4} The study of Spellcraft and other arcane magics is an equally fascinating pursuit not only for the beginning or lay wizard but also for the experienced master, magus or archmage. The development of similar but more powerful spell sequences forms an interesting offshoot as in the present case. Most higher version or “greater” spells - a terminology only used by the rank novice or beginner – are in fact normally based upon the lower valance or more stable spell platform. For example, even Arcadys Binding (Similar in form and structure to a Greater Planar Binding) uses the lowly and more generic “Planar Binding” as a foundation. The creation of the more powerful version has used a more concise arcanature (a single or series of magical methods, exercises or components) to achieve a similar but either longer lasting, broader or more powerful effect. The power required by the mage is thus tested more stringently but for greater reward.

In the present case, the Arcadys scroll is an augmentation and focused version of the difficult to master “Gate” spell. Using this as the basis, the magics binding the spell are focused more strictly towards the invocational with a series of ingeniously simple but difficult to master arcanatures beyond the ability of all but the most powerful maesters of the art. Fortunately for Lucifus, the prepared scroll has taken away the need for the repetition of these more difficult processes. The scroll if used by someone of Lucifus’s talents is an inherently dangerous process as its design is more suited to one who has a higher manifestation of arcane power. 

{5} Of interest were several amusing features of Lucifus’s personality. Of most importance was the almost complete lack of wisdom common with most summoners and alienists. However, in most cases, this could actually be viewed as a strength rather than a weakness. It allowed a full sufficiency of effort to be brought to bear upon any task without the usual nagging issues of doubt and indecision common to those with greater wisdom. Such thoughts and doubts were quickly dismissed as ridiculous or of insignificance.

{6} The binding of planar entities onto the prime is an incredibly dangerous and foolhardy exercise normally restricted to those bereft of wisdom, those of insanity, those with an insatiable hunger for power or usually a combination of these quirks and foibles. However, very few have a string of continued successes such as that currently enjoyed by Lucifus. In this particular case though, he has far overreached his abilities, overconfident in his application of the Arcadys scroll. Sarrash was of diabolical rank far surpassing anything he had ever tried – powerful enough even to attract divine attention.

Compounding this were several other factors and events that were to immediately follow Sarrash’s calling. First was the loss of the hated enemy balor Derizahn and the enormous loss of evil sustenance that was to be gained from its partially sequestered carcass. Second was the loss of several key diabolical servants of rank, gained and earned over several millennia. Third was the subsequent destruction of the majority of Sarrash’s personal hollow. However, weighing most heavily against Lucifus and his intended design, program and diplomatic efforts was the sheer insolence of a mortal successfully calling a fiend of Sarrash’s diabolical rank to the prime. In short, Sarrash would be pissed.

{7} It was known by Lucifus that the Storm Soldiers of Galasso had access through unknown means to the third and seventh gates of hell. However, various descriptions made by Lucifus’s former slave pointed towards the seventh demi-plane more so than the desolate third as the eventual source of Sarrash. Without this knowledge, Lucifus would have been trying the impossible.

{8} As opposed to the reverse or “warding” direction.


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## pogre (Mar 31, 2005)

Excellent! I love the dead Balor hand grenade 

Lucifus's pure chutzpah makes me grin!


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## Ampolitor (Mar 31, 2005)

*cool story*

very cool story indeed, I like the Evil toad


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## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit (Mar 31, 2005)

I'm delighted to see another update to this story.

Very cool description of the summoning.


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## Mortepierre (Apr 3, 2005)

Now, _that_ is what I call a.. failed summoning  

Lots of info to process there. About the magical 'theories' of your world, I mean. It certainly paints it into new shades worth delving into.

I like the fact that you seem to have the same opinion as Lovecraft or Howard about the summoning of fiendish entities. In too many settings, that particular act has been reduced to a 'mere' casting, no different from invoking a fireball or changing flesh to stone. IMHO, it belies the terrible danger inherent to such attempts and downplays the consequences, not only for the spellcaster but also the rest of the world, should the conjurer botch up the summoning. Not so in yours apparently.

Can't wait for the next part!


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## Inconsequenti-AL (Apr 6, 2005)

I said I'd give it a read... and I did.

That's a really good story! Enjoyed it immensely. A different and interesting take on an Alienist.

I can see what you were saying earlier, Lucifus and Tunthi must be a rather diffiuclt challenge for the rest of the group!  


Couple of curiosity questions: 
How much here was played through and how much is background to Lucifus?
Have you introduced the others to your Harem? 
How do you keep Tunthi away from them? 


Anyway, thank you for writing it!   

Looking forward to seeing where it heads next.


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## Insight (Apr 8, 2005)

Herremann,

Since you were kind enough to read my KOTB Story Hour, I've decided to take a look at yours.  Looks interesting so far!


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## Herremann the Wise (Apr 12, 2005)

*The Negotiation Begins*

Hello again everyone,

I apologise in advance for the length of this update - just a tipple over 4,000 words. However, there was so much to describe. I thought of splitting it in two but in the end did a three quarter split with the next update - which will be shorter but exponentially more extreme and dramatic for it. I have included commentary after the main entry.

***​
_In the Clan Circle of the Strauchn where at present the Greater Devil Sarrash has just been called to the prime via Arcadys’ Grand Gating…_

Ugari watched, frozen in terror as the hideous claw of Sarrash coursed a destructive arc downwards, through Lucifus’s floating body in front of her and back around in a ferocious butchering sweep. She could barely see as the lashing rain attacked everything, the hurricane-like conditions intensifying. Her gaze was drawn upwards as she could only just observe what was left of her pavilion hundreds of feet now in the night sky; its blazing silhouette just visible as the ferocious winds blew it out to sea like some ragged scrap of burning cloth. Her attention was drawn once more to the scene in front of her as the beast seemed to lurch forward. There was something unusual and unexpected in what she saw but her senses were raw, her perception flawed. As the gigantic creature’s deafening bellow thundered once more along the landscape like a wave of destruction, it made a second arcing strike aimed directly at her. She had already closed her eyes as blackness engulfed her senses.

It was an undetermined period of time later with the punishing rain and cyclonic wind all around her that Ugari noticed that she was still alive, the quiet after-echo following a booming voice providing her with a suddenly awakened consciousness. She was whole; how could she not have been torn apart by the creature’s deadly attack? Her long hair was strung across her face in sodden strips as her thin arms lifted her weight from the wet and muddied ground. Her considerable faculties took several moments to take in the visage of the beast and scene before her. Amazingly, Lucifus too seemed unaffected by the creature’s onslaught as he floated determinedly, screaming up at it over the tumultuous din of the storm. This was what she had seen before but had not registered. The creature’s claws had passed directly through him as if they carried no substance. She tried to carefully edge away from the scene but was confronted by the creature reacting unexpectedly to her movements; it’s massive features arching over the wizard and looking directly at her. The immense eyeless gaze hovered menacingly in front of her and ate directly into her senses; everything turned to black once more.

***​
_At this time…_

The squall still bit into every fibre of Lucifus’s body although the overall savageness had been muted somewhat in the last few moments as if the storm was catching its breath. Miraculously, Lucifus found that his body had not been touched, the creature’s massive claws passing through him ineffectively. Looking around, the clan’s population had been scattered with only a few of the more powerful warriors looking on from a cautious distance. The clan’s leader Tunthi however was beyond Lucifus’s immediate perceptions. Almost beneath his own position laid the still form of Ugari. Lucifus then stared up at Sarrash as he floated directly in front of the devil. As if by mechanical routine and habit, he began stipulating certain infernal guidelines and instructions, “I have called you to the prime so as you can perform for me a service. Upon its completion will I allow you passage back from whence you came. You must accept this charge.”

Sarrash’s infernal response to Lucifus’s initial demands boomed over the clamour of wind and rain. “DIE WRETCHED AND FOOLISH MORTAL… NO SERVICE WILL I COMMIT FOR THEE… LET LOOSE THESE BONDS SO I MAY SMITE THEE TO HELL.”
Sarrash followed this up with a further sonic assault upon the vicinity of the peninsula: the crackling storm providing savage accompaniment to Sarrash’s deafening roar of absolute fury.

Lucifus having been well and truly aroused from his previous torpidity attended several varying thoughts; recent events had not exactly proceeded to his initial concepts and planning. Fortunately for him, one of the magics within the Arcadys scroll held the diabolical creature quite securely while a further amazing sequence of arcanatures had rendered its offensive actions completely ineffective upon the prime. Lucifus had felt Sarrash literally explode past his wards and by rights this should have been the precise moment of his own grizzly demise. The mystical magicks of the Grand Gating however superseded even Lucifus’s wildest expectations. Sarrash - as far as he could judge – seemed to be held prisoner beyond its capacity to escape. Perhaps for the first moment he truly realised what he had accomplished. Lucifus had somehow managed to entrap a Greater Devil upon the prime.

It was at this point that a surge of arcane hubris and adrenalin coursed through Lucifus’s veins as he marvelled at the product of the Arcadys scroll. He floated up to the altitude of the creature’s gaze and yelled with great force and precise infernal at the monstrous devil, “I have you bound Sarrash… bound by a binding so tight… even you in a thousand and one turnings could never escape its icy grip!”
This produced further insane wailing from the beast as it attempted to swing out once more, pushing all of its efforts into breaking and extracting itself from the trap so it could literally atomise the mortal tormenting it. Looking down, Lucifus saw that while the candles and other arcane appurtenances had been scattered during the process of Sarrash’s arrival, the pentagrams outline glowed strongly underneath its feet. Sarrash was wholly trapped. {1}

“YOU WILL PAY DEARLY FOR YOUR ACTIONS MORTAL! I WILL HUNT DOWN YOUR SOUL AND IT WILL BE MINE FOR ETERNITY.” 
While unsure of how long the bindings would last – well beyond his own lifetime he hoped – Lucifus was comforted by the familiar ground the current discourse of negotiation was upon, albeit with a creature perhaps beyond his ability to bargain with. Unsure of an immediate course of tactics for negotiation, he sought to use standard practice as a means of securing Sarrash’s service. Perhaps not so surprisingly, he failed.

Over the top of the wind and beating rain Lucifus continued, pressing his point as an intriguing idea coalesced into the beginnings of a plan. “You are weak upon the prime Sarrash. In fact I ponder sending you back and trying once more for a devil capable of greater scope. Or perhaps I will leave you here to ponder your influence upon the prime. How does it feel to be completely impotent, naked as a mewling lemure?”
Sarrash’s response was a deafening howl of rage and the firing of a score of infernal flames in Lucifus’s direction. As before, the blasts of flame were of insignificance, whatever power they carried being completely emasculated upon the prime material plane by Arcadys’ supreme magicks.

“A pretty display Sarrash but neither here nor there really. I think I might leave you to ponder your fate before I give further stipulations upon my convenience”. {2}.
While providing a mixture of elation and disappointment, Lucifus felt the episode was not a total loss. He descended ignoring the attempted slashes, foul gaze and mien of Sarrash. His nonchalant demeanour to its presence had the obvious effect of upsetting the diabolical creature further. Lucifus then noticed that Ugari was stirring.

Ugari looked up at Lucifus, the form of the greater devil outlining the wizard’s silhouette. He spoke to her, his voice just audible over the tempest. “I suggest we repair to my private facilities. I shall have a collation prepared and warmth made available so as we may best discuss current events”.
Ugari, still in a state of absolute terror could do little more than nod her head. Lucifus picked up her slight form and floated away, the storm having drenched and soaked her to the point of drowning.

***​
_Inside Lucifus’s private facility, somewhat apart from the usual tribal hubbub…_ 

A number of differing thoughts competed for Lucifus’s attention as he floated at a casual altitude of a several feet. The fire furnished by a small elemental was providing suitable heat whilst several small platters of nibbles and tidbits were presented by a series of unseen servants at Lucifus’s command. The secure stonework provided by Lucifus’s conjuration (a slight variation upon The Grandee’s Cottage {3}), was a suitable if somewhat limited area designed for comfort and pleasure if not providing for the more expansive utility of high entertaining. Ugari had extracted herself from her soaked attire and was presently wrapped in a cloak of good cloth warming in front of the fire’s heat and glow. Her manner was one of dissatisfaction.

“Well!?” Ugari questioned.
“There are obviously several things to consider when adjudging the merits of our program.”
“Your program you mean,” interrupted Ugari. “I cannot remember advising neither the destruction of the clan nor the appearance of some beast beyond your talent to control!”

The harsh words hurt Lucifus but only for a moment. With quick and professional thought, he applied the correct “spin” to his current position. “But Ugari, do you not understand that this is all part of the negotiating process? It will soon tire itself…”
“Part of the process was inciting a creature that big!?” she screamed, pointing in the general direction of the entrapped creature.
“Well in all honesty”, answered Lucifus, “I had not pondered the possibility of a creature of such magnitude in my estimations but… all the better do you not think in it accomplishing the task at hand?”
Ugari not fully understanding the intricacies of the nature of binding beyond that expediently explained by Lucifus responded, “The creature will rip you apart as soon as it has the chance. Any agreement it speaks would be…”
“Ah but Ugari in this you are wrong. If it agrees, it is bound hand and foot to the technical letter of my stipulations. It cannot so much as fart without my prior consent…”
“And exactly how do you plan to reach such a binding agreement with it? I did not sense this creature eager to listen to your banter.”

“Ah hah” jumped Lucifus. “And here you have the precise reason for my actions and the method by which we shall force this creature to our collective will. If you have in fact noticed, by angering it to the point of complete obfuscation, it has become more focused upon the useless exercise of trying to obliterate my existence than engaging itself with its own extrication from the spells binding.”
Ugari processed this rather novel approach for a moment then asked, “And you expect this creature to be more kindly disposed because of this?”
“Well on this you your point might be cogent. The overall negotiation may actually take some degree of time.” Lucifus ruminated upon this concept before continuing. “In fact by my calculations, the dilation of time is currently waxing as we speak at the coterminous between our own plane and that of the seventh gate.”
“So?!”
“In other words” enthused Lucifus warming to a particular thought, “time does not remain dormant in this creature’s demiplane… in fact, quite the reverse.”
“Time will be reversed?”
“No, no, no. For every parcel of time experienced upon the prime, many parcels of time will have been exhausted upon the seventh demiplane of Hell.”

A smile developed upon Lucifus’s face as he continued with his didactic efforts. “You must understand that infernal politics is not a dormant entity. The to and fro of numerous factions will go on much to our friends detriment. In fact, I imagine that its diabolical influence will be significantly hampered through an extended absence. Further, if word gets out that it has actually been entrapped upon the prime, I dare say the creature will return to its domain to find it overrun by some enemy or another gorging upon the remains of its entourage and minions. Can’t you see… that by being entrapped here, its influence upon its home plane rapidly diminishes in our favour?” {3}

Ugari, not fully comprehending the exact merits of Lucifus’s design did not look wholly convinced. “As long as you feel it cannot break the bindings of your trap, I will allow you to test your concepts. For myself, I had better see to the clan’s welfare. I will attempt to make them understand that this creature is here to destroy our enemies and not us”. Ugari’s demeanour however was not one of confidence. With nary an additional word, she stood up, wrapped the cloak around her body and left Lucifus to ponder his thoughts.

***​
_Several hours later with the sun’s rising two hours distant…_

Lucifus had a small period of time to ponder a variety of contingencies but none appealed with any high degree of satisfaction. While he considered the Devil sufficiently trapped, he could not say with certainty that any pressure applied to the case would garner a result of immediate consequence. Negotiation would be a slow process. Deep in thought, he delicately stroked Winter; she had disappeared within his cloak while all the fuss of Sarrash’s entrance to the prime had been happening. At present she was preening distractedly, the whole series of events distressing her.

Lucifus felt weary as it had been at least a day or two since he had benefited from a short slumber. Just as his eyes started drifting upwards from languor to gentle sleep, a disturbance could be heard from outside. A massive roar of rage followed. Within a flashing of light, Lucifus was hovering at best speed out of the stone enclosure towards where Sarrash was supposed to be ensnared.

***​
_Immediately before…_

Upon the sward directly adjacent to Sarrash’s present position, a rather sizeable group of locals had assembled in the now easing rain, watching a certain spectacle involving several younger clansmen. While initially confused by the sudden appearance of the colossal Sarrash, word had gradually spread around that the creature had been enslaved in service to the clan. As such, many of the Strauchn warriors had wandered back to the vicinity out of curiosity. At present a number were provoking each other to new and innovative acts of bravery. At first it started with a clansman bravely venturing to within fifty feet of Sarrash before escalating to further acts of defiance and aggravation. Encouraged by a lack of interest on Sarrash’s part, others joined in raising the stakes to yelling out ancient war cries within the Devil’s immediate proximity. 

Currently a young clansman by the name of Gorastus was swaggering back to the group having ventured within twenty feet of the creature and shouting a blood-curdling scream up to it. Sarrash’s mood was indeterminate. Not wanting to be outdone and with several of the clan’s more significant members present (including their leader Tunthi), another up and coming warrior charged to within ten feet waving his axe with abandon bellowing in fury and challenge. This elicited a murmur from the crowd as Sarrash shifted, the rotten knobs once anchoring angelic wings realigning behind it as its massive head glanced downwards. To his credit, the young warrior held his ground and blustered back a further challenge – highlighting the creature’s obvious lack of a priapic device. The crowd cheered at his bravery. Merrily buoyant with his clans support, the young warrior Furgal advanced into the boundaries of the glowing pentagram at Sarrash’s feet. Quicker than anyone could see, the eviscerated corpse of the warrior flew in several distinct directions. A roar from Sarrash had the crowd scattering to safety.

At this point, Lucifus had reached the scene, floating up to the current position of Tunthi and several others behind a sizeable boulder.
“Tunthi. What have you been doing with my creature?” he spoke urgently in the guttural Dermen. 
Tunthi, obviously disturbed by immediate events looked up waving in the general direction of Sarrash. “Bad creature eat Furgal. Ugari say bad creature help us?” Tunthi’s state of confusion was almost humorous.
Lucifus floated above the boulder and indeed saw the scattered bloodied remnants that must have been one of the clansmen. This caused several internal expostulations within Lucifus’s brain wondering how exactly the creature could have had physical effect upon the prime. Unless…

Tunthi interrupted his distracted thoughts once more, “Tuk-tuk tell bad creature… eat Pianatha… not Tunthi”.
Lucifus floated back down to address Tunthi’s concerns.

“I suggest you keep the clan away from the… bad creature. Don’t play games with it because it’s much much bigger than you and doesn’t play fair.”
Tunthi looked confused as he normally did when the Tuk-tuk spoke the Derman tongue – big words from little man mean big confusion.

Lucifus hoped that Tunthi had understood the rudiments of the warning well enough that he wouldn’t have to be worried about the tribe providing a steady source of sustenance for the Devil. If things were going to go as he hoped, Sarrash would need to be starved of its various needs. Lucifus thought he’d try a new direction in negotiation with the trapped creature. “Tunthi… wait here for a moment. I shall venture over and gauge its mood”.
Tunthi looked perplexed once more as Lucifus drifted towards the monstrous creature, the eyes of the clan upon him.

As Lucifus coasted in Sarrash’s direction, he saw Ugari, who had also been drawn to the area by the disturbance. While the majority of her belongings had been lost amongst the ashen sea bound remnants of her pavilion, she had still managed to find an outfit that projected her position with favour and authority. The leather strapping binding a shortened hide kirtle completed the warrior-woman array whilst her bare chest replete with tribal markings of significance revealed recent contact with the various spirits at her command. She looked at him with stern features, her pointed breasts and upturned chin aloof to the conjurer’s appearance. Lucifus waved to her barely receiving a terse nod in return. There would need to be some level of appeasement before too long thought Lucifus as he drifted closer to Sarrash.

The weather was now no more than a misty rain buffeted to and fro by gusts of wind, impulsive to some unreadable atmospheric command. A red radiance glowed weakly from Sarrash. The absurdly large devil was as a statue bound to the pentagram by its hoofed and clawed feet, the remains of the warrior’s corpse scattered beyond its reach and interest. Lucifus looked more carefully now at Sarrash’s image - at precisely what level of the infernal power structure did he fill? Beelzebub {5} was considered the Lord of the Seventh Pit and had several greater devils under his immediate command. His knowledge could not discern whether this creature was part of the cast or separate: a rogue power behind the seventh gate. He would gamble the latter until proven otherwise. As Lucifus studied carefully the Greater Devil, he concluded its most terrifying aspect was most assuredly its horrid putrescent skull; the remains of a celestial corrupted and blackened to a node of complete evil. Its gaze seemed to take in everything and nothing, perceiving perfectly its surroundings but having no concern of them. Even Lucifus’s renewed presence did not stir its features; he thought he’d see if he could change that.

“I gather the local cuisine is not to your taste?” Lucifus said whilst looking around; a denuded series of vertebrae catching his eye on the wet and bloodied ground. “Still, no need for such poor decorum and table manners, I’m sure a small expulsion of gas would have sufficed?”
The creature remained aloof, not deigning to gift Lucifus with any form of response, its gaze focused on some undefined point in the stratosphere.
“Out of interest, are you currently unwell? I notice several grievous wounds around your right shoulder blade where you must have once had such majestic plumage. In all truth with your injuries and all, I hope I haven’t caught you at an inappropriate time.”
Receiving no reaction, Lucifus continued, “ Actually time is a bit of an issue is it not? While we languorously while away segments here upon the prime, time accelerates at a most hurried pace back home. Imagine all your friends down there wondering where you are? Imagine some of your minions too. While the master’s away the servants will play and all that. I hope they’re strong enough to rebuff the attention they will most likely receive from some of your friends and associates stopping by for chitchat. Imagine if your Master Beelzebub found that you were holidaying upon the prime, you’d be quickly left out of the infernal loop…"

“SILENCE MORTAL FLEA!!!”  Sarrash roared, its arms thrusting back as it bent down, its corrupted face within inches of Lucifus’s. “YOU HIDE BEHIND MAGICS BEYOND YOUR POWER LIKE A CRAVEN MAGGOT! LETS SEE HOW MUCH YOU TALK WHEN THESE BONDS FAIL!”
Lucifus’s bowels loosened. The gaze of the putrescent skull bore directly into him; close enough to see unnamed and diabolical parasites crawling around its various orifices. Perhaps he had gone a little too far introducing Beelzebub into the discussion?
“I FEEL THE FETTERS QUICKLY WEAKENING PATHETIC MORTAL... SOON YOUR SOUL WILL BE MINE!!!” lashed Sarrash.
Lucifus glanced down noticing that indeed, the pentagram’s glow had waned somewhat. Surely it must be a trick of the light. Surely Arcadys’ magick was of solid duration and not a momentary trice. The thought of the magicks immediately unravelling made Lucifus queasy in the stomach. A fear struck Lucifus as the pentacle coruscated in a flickering of light. His attention was distracted. 

Lucifus failed to note the devastating scene unfolding behind him until it was too late.

***​
{1} The Pentacle in it’s entirety was almost twenty foot in diameter; previously taking up the majority of the private sanctum of Ugari’s pavilion. Currently, Sarrash was magically hemmed within a moveable, arcane and upturned cone anchored by the glowing pentagram. While sufficiently mobile to reach beyond the immediate vicinity, the magicks entrapping the Greater Devil have made its actual physical manifestation discordant with its visual position upon the prime. Without wishing to broach a myriad of obtuse arcane factors involved, it is sufficed to say that the node representing Sarrash’s actual “being” had been tightly forced within a diminutive volume of space within the pentagrams centre. The visual boundaries however are constrained by the anchored, upturned cone. As such, Sarrash’s physical appearance and influence while visually impressive was in fact completely benign. Any attacks being impressively presented but in actuality being no more than a hideous buzzing of Sarrash’s compacted essence. The precise concepts involved however were beyond the outer boundaries of Lucifus’s understanding. 

{2} Sarrash’s initial rebuffing of his demands was not entirely unexpected. In fact Lucifus hoped to work it into his favour. While he could have expressed a new set of stipulations to the Greater Devil, such promptness to back down like as in any negotiation could only ever be taken as a sign of weakness.

{3} This is the accepted name used by Lucifus Cray for the spell usually titled Leomund’s Secure Shelter. Lucifus has performed several adjustments to this particular spell in order to augment its comforts from the sparse to the lavish. In fact, key parts of these adjustments would later be used in his final series of augmentations leading to his greatest personal achievement of magic thus far: Lucifus’s Portable Tower.

{4} Perhaps surprisingly, Lucifus’s deductions in regards to Sarrash’s absence were not only legitimate but also entirely conservative. Lucifus could not have imagined the difficulties his simple act was to cause Sarrash.

{5} I have used Green Ronin Publishing’s _Legions of Hell_ as the base and inspiration for the Diabolical and Infernal hierarchy used in this story hour. Paul the DM has kept such things tightly under wraps so for Story Hour purposes, I have capriciously become a little inventive. An exceptional sourcebook by the way. J

_An additional note:_
I apologise for any confusion regarding the final sentence of the previous update. I was referring to what Sarrash was intending to do, rather than what had already been done; capricious and slightly cheeky but hopefully artistically valid at the same time.

***​


			
				pogre said:
			
		

> Excellent! I love the dead Balor hand grenade
> 
> Lucifus's pure chutzpah makes me grin!




Thanks for the support! Isn't chutzpah one of those great words - perfect in regards to Lucifus. However, I can't help thinking back to high school and playing Paranoia whenever I hear it...  



			
				Ampolitor said:
			
		

> very cool story indeed, I like the Evil toad




Believe it or not, the entire current story arc hinges around that "Evil toad". I hope you enjoy the upcoming symbology and significance to come soon. I hope you keep reading.



			
				HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> I'm delighted to see another update to this story.
> 
> Very cool description of the summoning.




The summoning represents the highest arcane achievement by Lucifus Cray. It is a pivotal element in his current direction. Apologies that this update has taken so long. I had most of it written, a couple of days after the previous update but putting it altogether has taken time though. Editting and re-editting is a pretty big deal for me but I'm slowly learning.  



			
				Mortepierre said:
			
		

> Now, that is what I call a.. failed summoning
> 
> Lots of info to process there. About the magical 'theories' of your world, I mean. It certainly paints it into new shades worth delving into.
> 
> ...




Great to have you still aboard. Your continued support makes me feel bad that I have not supplied appropriate input on your Story Hour... I'll have to do that - expect something soon. You had a real good run recently which I think you deserved. As I have put your thread in my favourites column, I never get to see it's page position. I should try to give it the bumps it deserves!

Anyway, you have inspired me to do a bit of extra reading. I've never gone through the Conan Chronicles before so I'm really enjoying it thus far. Lovecraft is another guy I have been meaning to get into but never have. Anything in particular you could recommend?

Thanks for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy.  



			
				Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> I said I'd give it a read... and I did.
> 
> That's a really good story! Enjoyed it immensely. A different and interesting take on an Alienist.
> 
> ...




This is so cool that you came over for a read. I hope you become a regular.  
I try to update every week but my writing and revising cycle never compliment one another.  

In regards to actual play and background story, the current arc is the embellished version of the background history I provided for Paul the DM. The initial storyline involving the group culminating in the fine dining at Demar's was played out. This whole arc has been about providing the significance to Lucifus's answer to Sir Herland Ramus, the Emperor's prime councillor. A little bit over the top but fun never-the-less. I'm actually really looking forward to completing the arc so I can get on with what's been happening in game - damn there's been a lot of it!

Lucifus's opinion on the various members of his "Harem" {good word for them by the way   ) varies depending upon his mood and circumstance. He knows who strays and he knows who remains faithful. Such actions don't bother him too much.

As for Tunthi though, only Melancthe partook once in the exotic coupling with the beast. This was kind of too much for even her tastes. As such, she remains aloof from Tunthi with the others of the "Harem" while Lucifus tries to provide a steady stream of "working wenches" to relieve the half-orcs glands. Crude I know but the facts of life in a harsh and selective world.



			
				Insight said:
			
		

> Herremann,
> 
> Since you were kind enough to read my KOTB Story Hour, I've decided to take a look at yours. Looks interesting so far!




Hi Insight, I hope everything works out with your group - it seems a sad set of circumstances from what I've seen of your story hour. I hope you decide to finish it anyway. In my game I appreciate that the other players and DM have allowed me certain licence to represent their characters how my character sees them. They have equally invested copious amounts of time into their characters - since 3rd editions inception and before for the most part - but do not seem to be quite as "precious" as your players. They know that I do things for fun and to make things interesting so they're cool with most of it. I agree with you that nothing is more boring than a SH that is little more than "we killed this and then we attacked that and then we..." Nothing like a little bit of conflict I say to spice things up. Best regards and hope you keep reading this story hour too.

Best Regards to All
Herremann the Wise


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## pogre (Apr 12, 2005)

> I apologise in advance for the length of this update




I should think so! I was hoping for something much longer 

The details of the summoning and the diabolical negotiations continue to fascinate.


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## Inconsequenti-AL (Apr 13, 2005)

Great stuff...

Thanks for the answers there! 

I've got the feeling that however Lucifus escapes from this one, he's going to have a very unhappy Sarrash keeping an eye on him in future.   

Definitely enjoying Lucifus's outlook on life. It's refreshing and very different from the norm!


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## Mortepierre (Apr 14, 2005)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> Great to have you still aboard. Your continued support makes me feel bad that I have not supplied appropriate input on your Story Hour... I'll have to do that - expect something soon. You had a real good run recently which I think you deserved. As I have put your thread in my favourites column, I never get to see it's page position. I should try to give it the bumps it deserves!
> 
> Anyway, you have inspired me to do a bit of extra reading. I've never gone through the Conan Chronicles before so I'm really enjoying it thus far. Lovecraft is another guy I have been meaning to get into but never have. Anything in particular you could recommend?
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy.




Eh, no problem there. Haven't updated in a while so there wasn't much to comment upon. Look for an update soon though   

For Conan and the particular issue of summoning fiends, I would recommend stories such as The Snout in the Dark. Though Howard never spent much time describing the ritual summonings themselves, its stories dealt a lot with the unfortunate consequences of having a fiend 'loose' among mortals (mostly because the summoner had far less control over it than he had anticipated!). I agree with you about Legions of Hell, btw (though I prefer the more recent Book of Fiends which updated and added to it).

No need to thank me for reading. Continue to produce such high-quality work and it will be a pleasure I'll continue to enjoy


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## moritheil (Apr 19, 2005)

This was very good.  Was English your first language?


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## Funeris (Apr 21, 2005)

Just subscribed to this thread...and am halfway done with the first page.  Just wanted to say Damn I'm impressed.  Excellent writing and desciptive quality.  Hell, just excellent quality.  Can't wait to catch up; I'm hooked.  

Keep it up.


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## Funeris (Apr 22, 2005)

All caught up now.  Awaiting an update...
Don't make me reread this thread a hundred times 

I'll do it...I swear...


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## A Crazy Fool (Apr 24, 2005)

the evil toad gaurded by the extremely stupid orc, errm unique
note to self: use a fiendish doad in campaign sometime


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## Herremann the Wise (Apr 24, 2005)

*The Death of a Clan*

_Earlier, with the raging storm at its zenith…_

Jengus of the Pianatha opened his mouth to the storm as the swirling winds violently twisted his cloak in contorted angles around his massive frame. A spirit compelled by the Shaman Karodo guided him towards the spiritual home of the Strauchn where he would soon seek out the death of their clan’s Shamaness. The spirit, a native to the plane of air maintained its semblance without effort in the ferocious conditions, ignorantly drifting through the tempest with speed and purpose. The mortal it was bonded to looked ahead to where several of the Strauchn warriors crouched behind one of the massive boulders that dotted the primal landscape. The spirit slowed then halted. Jengus knew that the spirit protected him from being seen {1} and so he momentarily rested near their refuge, his proximity to his enemy recklessly near.

They huddled pathetically close to one another, not venturing interest beyond their own circumstances. A rippling of hate swelled in Jengus’s breast. Under normal circumstances, they would be dead: his axe slicing through their vitals before they could counteract his devastating attack. He was tempted but with effort, he stilled his rage and continued moving on. The Strauchn warriors were oblivious to the candles of their fate flickering to nothing before blooming once more with Jengus’s movement away from their position. He ran.

In a period of time defined by the storms ever so slightly loosened grip, Jengus ran to within the outer boundaries of the peninsula of his hated enemy. A sight there stopped him cold as he broached the rise of a hillock. Lit up like a flaming spire at the extremity of his vision was the slashing form of… something. The elemental had continued unheedingly as Jengus slowly shifted his perspective. He watched the distant creature’s movements for several moments deciding that the remote form was somehow trapped; its base unmoving. He moved forward and adjusted his perspective once more to try and gauge the size of the creature but this just ramified that it was of an order of magnitude beyond his experience. Jengus continued moving cautiously towards the area – the completion of his mission still foremost in his mind. 

***​
_A period of time later upon the sward currently housing the Greater Devil Sarrash…_

Jengus moved quietly around the perimeter of the Strauchn site. Adrenaline coursed richly through his veins as he shifted through the tainted heart of his enemy, several warriors moving nearby completely unaware of his presence. From behind a small rock he cast an eye to observe the monstrous beast that had been entrapped by his enemy, a crowd having gathered near it. An aberrant emotion gurgled through his system. Fear was something strange to Jengus. It was like a tugging in his gut, the previous tension and exhilaration turning against him.  Could the creature see him? He would have to keep distant from its horrible eyeless gaze to be sure. The only difficulty was that the Strauchn bitch was nowhere to be found. He would have to skirt back around and search the other side of the sward. The spirit that clung to him tightly was no longer able to provide him with suitable direction to his target and so he would have to rely upon his own senses.

As he went to stalk through the now misty rain, the enslaved creature of the Strauchn horrifically whirled in a cyclonic thrashing upon its own position, its roar sonically pounding the entire area to make Jengus instinctively lower his bulk. He saw the remains of some warrior strewn like chaff near the creature, a spray of dark crimson flesh landing wetly upon the sodden ground. The crowd of Strauchn ran in all directions expecting the creature to come chasing after them. Jengus held his ground trusting his earlier senses and judgment. The massive creature seemed unmoving with no readable emotion from its recent actions. It was then that Jengus’s head suddenly snapped to a point opposite from the creature, his senses gauging the presence of his target unnaturally. The bitch had appeared. Jengus’s feet were swift, his rage fanatical and axe most deadly.

Jengus’s frame coursed around the back part of the area, his feet leaving savage gouges in the mud as he powered to his target, his enemy completely unknowing in the circumstances and conditions. It was several heartbeats longer and he was behind the outcropping that she had stopped upon to view events. He stalked up the incline and saw her fresh back and exposed neck. As his axe arched backwards, the booming voice of the enraged creature stopped Jengus’s fatal movements only five feet from her. The creature’s red glow moved violently as it wailed in a tongue beyond his understanding. He stopped his weapon trying to comprehend what was going on as it tried to blast apart a floating figure in front of it. The figure seemed unaffected by the attack.

It was then that Jengus snapped back to his mission, the distraction providing an opening for his enemy. The warrior standing next to the Shamaness twisted around sensing something amiss. It saw nothing. Then it saw the shamaness’ body lurch forward, blood spraying backwards from the base of her spine. He then saw the immense eight-foot frame of horror, the Pianathan’s axe leaving her body before being thrust back into her neck in a furious frenzy of pure hatred. Jengus had grabbed her hair as the axe parted head from body. Blood violently sprayed from her transversally opened neck as her rent body collapsed to the ground. The Strauchn warrior instinctively moved towards the nightmare but with a backhand swipe of minimal effort, Jengus’s axe had smashed the Strauchn to his death below the outcropping. Jengus lifted the severed head by its ragged ropes of hair presenting it to the clan in fevered victory, its small bulk pervertedly bouncing to the tenets of gravity. Jengus, clan leader of the Pianatha roared his defiance and victory to them. “UYH TU GNASA!”

The warriors of the Strauchn clan turned almost as one, the flame linking their fate and existence destroyed in an instant. Several moved towards the massive warrior as he jumped from the outcropping but they fell to the ferocity of his arcing axe. From nowhere Tunthi appeared. His stroke was blocked as he realised who it was he faced. His rage bellowed as his axe swung to penetrate the defences of the Beast of the Pianatha. The blow cut deep but Jengus looked down at Tunthi in victory, his teeth crushing Karodo’s charm in his mouth. As Tunthi provided the stroke that would have disembowelled the giant, Jengus: the Beast of the Pianatha was gone. 

***​
{1} The spirit was conjoined to Jengus by Karodo: his Master and Shaman of the Pianatha. It provided the effect of an invisibility spell, selectively applied to work against those of the Strauchn clan. This was consistent with the sacrifice of a Strauchn clansman whose lifeblood still graced and empowered Karodo’s Lahrum (offering stone). It is also worth mentioning the charm in Jengus’s possession that would be used to instantly take him back to Karodo’s cave. Karodo trusted the air spirit to guide him there but insisted on more powerful magic to get Jengus back out. See post #** for further details.

***​
Thanks everyone for reading so far. If you think things are at rock bottom at the moment, just wait until the next update.   



			
				Pogre said:
			
		

> Herremann the Wise said:
> 
> 
> 
> ...




In which case I must sincerely apologise for the length of this one.   
I really appreciate your support and readership.



			
				Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Great stuff...
> 
> Thanks for the answers there!
> 
> ...



I'm glad I can keep you entertained with Lucifus's exploits. I hope I can catch up to current events quick enough and I'll be hearing your guffaws from Sydney.  



			
				Mortepierre said:
			
		

> Eh, no problem there. Haven't updated in a while so there wasn't much to comment upon. Look for an update soon though
> 
> For Conan and the particular issue of summoning fiends, I would recommend stories such as The Snout in the Dark. Though Howard never spent much time describing the ritual summonings themselves, its stories dealt a lot with the unfortunate consequences of having a fiend 'loose' among mortals (mostly because the summoner had far less control over it than he had anticipated!). I agree with you about Legions of Hell, btw (though I prefer the more recent Book of Fiends which updated and added to it).
> 
> No need to thank me for reading. Continue to produce such high-quality work and it will be a pleasure I'll continue to enjoy



It's a pleasure to keep you enjoying it. Thanks for the Conan references too. My wife and I are going away to Tropical Nth Queensland for a holiday today and the chronicles are safely packed away for some good holiday reading.



			
				moritheil said:
			
		

> This was very good. Was English your first language?



Thanks for the compliment. It's all a matter of perspective a to the good Queen's english being my native tongue. "If I's talked with me broad Ostrailyun accent" - I'm sure you would consider me partially illiterate.   
I should not laugh. Mortepierre's native tongue is not English and his language put's mine to shame. I suggest you head over to his thread to have a read - you will enjoy.



			
				Funeris said:
			
		

> Just subscribed to this thread...and am halfway done with the first page. Just wanted to say Damn I'm impressed. Excellent writing and desciptive quality. Hell, just excellent quality. Can't wait to catch up; I'm hooked.
> 
> Keep it up.
> 
> ...




So cool to have you aboard!   
I can't have you waiting there for an unnecessarily long period of time so glad to post this update - short as it is. I hope you continue to enjoy the ride.



			
				A Crazy Fool said:
			
		

> the evil toad gaurded by the extremely stupid orc, errm unique
> note to self: use a fiendish doad in campaign sometime



I hope you keep reading.  

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise

And finally to whet your appetite for the next update.

_Note of Importance:_ The situation for the Strauchn was most grave. With no obvious successor groomed and with Ugari’s head neatly parted from her body, the spiritual flame of the Clan was about to die.


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## pogre (Apr 25, 2005)

I see you have followed the advice you left for Sep. I heartily approve and look forward to whatever writing you care to post. Have a great holiday!


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## Mortepierre (Apr 25, 2005)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> Thanks for the compliment. It's all a matter of perspective a to the good Queen's english being my native tongue. "If I's talked with me broad Ostrailyun accent" - I'm sure you would consider me partially illiterate.
> I should not laugh. Mortepierre's native tongue is not English and his language put's mine to shame. I suggest you head over to his thread to have a read - you will enjoy.




Eh, I would never have guessed from your style that you were writing from down under!

As for me, all I'll say is  

Oh, aye, and that I have updated my own SH as a result of your numerous praises as well


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## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit (Apr 25, 2005)

Consider my appetite well and truly whetted.

I await satiation .....


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## Glauron101 (May 2, 2005)

*Wandering Cleric Arrives*

"So this explains the origins of the nefarious Lucifus Cray.
Well may ye seek the forgiveness of Galasso.
Know ye that His obedient servant Father Brian MacPhail sees and observes.
I shall continue to scry your past."

Nice work by the way Herremann/Lucifus.  I reckon that in game terms you're at least 40,000 words behind.  Something for your growing readership to look forward to.  Hehehe, no doubt you shall inform them in due course of the high regard in which Father Brian holds Lucifus.

Just so your readers know, at the start of these posts Father Brian was a L11 cleric.  That was 13 x 8 hour sessions ago.  Keep writing Herremann.

As you know, I've been reading this all along.  I finally managed to get access to the site to reply. Wohoo.  I promise I will give no spoilers.


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## pogre (May 4, 2005)

Hey Glauron,

I love it when fellow players pipe up in a story hour - be sure to comment often on your perspective. Assuming it doesn't annoy Herreman too much


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## Angel of Adventure (May 5, 2005)

Hey Herremann,

So it the Tomb of Horrors upcoming, or what?  I hope you guys do it as it is an awesome adventure!  (Protect the Cleric at all costs!!!!)


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## Glauron101 (May 5, 2005)

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Hey Herremann,
> 
> So it the Tomb of Horrors upcoming, or what?  I hope you guys do it as it is an awesome adventure!  (Protect the Cleric at all costs!!!!)




Worry not Angel.  Father Brian is nothing if not a survivor.  I'll leave it to Herremann to answer your query re Tomb of Horrors.

Cheers
Glauron101/Father Brian


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## Glauron101 (May 5, 2005)

pogre said:
			
		

> Hey Glauron,
> 
> I love it when fellow players pipe up in a story hour - be sure to comment often on your perspective. Assuming it doesn't annoy Herreman too much




I shall be only too happy to do this, once Herremann reaches the part where Lucifus and Father Brian begin to interact on a more regular basis.

You've seen only a smidgin of that very early in this story hour thread.  Father Brian was against Lucifus joining the group.  Incidentally Herremann/Lucifus did an outstanding job of 'introducing' his character to the rest of the party.

The interplay between Lucifus and Father Brian is "strained"

I look forward to hearing Lucifus's take on this and will most assuredly respond. Despite the many deficiencies in character that Lucifus has displayed thus far.  I do not expect him to wander too far from the truth.


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## Hannibal King (May 11, 2005)

Hey Herremann. This may be a really dumb question but can I assume that all parts of your storty hour that DON'T involve the other players are just made up stories?
If so do any of the other players go into this much detail with their background characters? and if not do they resent you for it, especially when the DM focuses adventures around your background?
I had two players who wrote big backgrounds like yours and I would try an accomadate them whenever I could, the other players who didn't bother with BGs tended to not mind, or at least they never complained to me about the lack of focus on their BG-less characters. Personnaly I love to see this creativity in character BGs, it makes for great reading.

Anyway as I mentioned in my "Roll Call: Aussie Enworlders" thread if you need another player I am desperately seeking another group. Let me know. cool?

Hannibal King


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## Glauron101 (May 17, 2005)

Hannibal King said:
			
		

> Hey Herremann. This may be a really dumb question but can I assume that all parts of your storty hour that DON'T involve the other players are just made up stories?
> If so do any of the other players go into this much detail with their background characters? and if not do they resent you for it, especially when the DM focuses adventures around your background?
> 
> Hannibal King




Other points will no doubt be responded to by Herremann.  I think it appropriate that I, as an other player, respond.

Beside Lucifus, there are 5 other gamers.  I am the newbie, having only had 15 sessions in this adventure.  At least one other character, Demar Alorr, has a very lengthy background that would rival Lucifus's.  Two others have had the same character almost since the campaign began.  The fifth player has retired several characters and is now playing a rather tough dwarf.  Everyone puts a lot into their character background, and none of us resent Herremann's attention to detail as regards Lucifus.
Father Brian has a past too.  He was assigned to the group by his order when he was a lowly L9 cleric, now L15.  The others didn't really pry too deeply into his background.  They do know he was the sole survivor from another group of adventurers, and occassionally goes off on a guilt trip.  He's cautions, suspicious, conservative.  Nobody is game to ask him what happened, though Lucifus might if he reads this (Lucifus is insensitive).  He is a very good cook.  Likes food and wine.  Hates violence, but has been known to have a rush of blood.
The DM most definitely does not focus his campaign around Lucifus.  He is a great DM and mirrors the effort and involvement of the individual PCs.  At present we all seem to be swept along by events, and not pursuing any individual agenda.
Since Herremann the Paladin retired from our group over ideological differences, events seem to centre around Demar Alorr.  I am certain that Lucifus will make an impression though.


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## Destan (May 25, 2005)

I just have to pop in to say something I've been meaning to say ever since pogre's and mortepierre's pimps brought this yarn to my attention: 

_The Happenings of Lucifus Cray_ is the best damned story hour title out there. 

It's worthy of a book in itself.  I've already yoinked the name for an upcoming campaign of my own.

Good stuff, good story, good gaming group.

Now, allow me to waddle off into lurker mode once more.

Fat D


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## pdmiller (Jun 1, 2005)

*The Cray thing....*

Hey Herremen, been a while since I checked in and read your SH, it's developed nicely!  Hurry up and bring it to the "present" please, I'm enjoying it immensely.  I think your writing is getting better and better, and I'm particularly looking forward to your account of Vilmi's unfortunate outing with Nemhan and Titus.

By way of explanation, I am the DM running Lucifus' game... or is it the other way around   Even I'm not sure how Lucifus gets out of this one!

Nice to see another player on the thread too, thanks for your kind words Glauron...

Someone should bring Angel of Adventure's comment re ToH to Dave's attention, maybe it will ease Nemhan's inexplicable knee-knocking somewhat....


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## pogre (Jun 2, 2005)

Bumped for the impending massive 5,000 word+ update about to hit.

No really...

REALLY!


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## Glauron101 (Jun 3, 2005)

*Update coming soon*

At our gaming session last week (not this campaign) Herremann said he had been working hard on a Lucifus Cray post, so it is coming soon. I expected it to be here.

Surprised to see the DM lurking here too. I'll have to be extra careful about what I say.

Cheers

Father Brian.


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## Herremann the Wise (Jun 6, 2005)

*The Unleashing of Sarrash*

Thank you everyone for keeping this thread alive. This update has been a tough but rewarding one taking a bit of time for me to “get it right”. Due to the size, the footnoting appears at the bottom of each section rather than at the end of the update – hope this does not cause any confusion. Comments to your kind responses are at the end as usual. Apologies for the length of this update; I’m sure it will be too long for some and too short for others.​
*Author’s Warning: Again, material and language in this instalment is of a more adult nature and is recommended suitable for a mature audience only. I seek not to offend but sincerely apologise if I do.*

_Just before the death of Ugari, Shamaness and Light of the Strauchn Clan in a dank cold cave smelling of purest undeath, three mortal souls await their fate…_

The olive light produced by the gem in the centre of the cave provided scant illumination to their surroundings. Isaac looked down at the fitful man in front of him; Moro’s closed lids furiously fighting his private nightmare in a sleep now more of utter exhaustion than of the mortal sickness ravaging his body. The supposed priest Dannikin was at the edge of the malevolent and sour glow mumbling in a tongue not of Isaac’s understanding. He was pitifully clawing here and there on the cave wall with his stubby fingers trying to find purchase or release or understanding or some type of peace from his many demons. Isaac had tried to convince him that there would be no escape and that the corpse-witch would soon return. He suggested the priest would do well to hoard as much strength as he could for when they needed it. Unheedingly the dribbling of dirt and rubble floating to the cave floor from Dannikin’s scrabbling continued unabated, only broken here or there by the gasps of the sickened sailor Moro, his occasional laboured breathing an echoed gurgling of phlegm and fever from within his stricken windpipe. The sweaty sickly smell of death clung closely to his being like the sweetened stench of carrion. Isaac’s good hand gently supported the head of the dying man.

It was at this time that Isaac considered his life to this point. An orphan from his early years, he had always struggled with abuse of one form or another. The years had passed him by with nothing to really project him from the ruck of distorted humanity he had associated with. Even as a mercenary guard, his small achievements were of little to no consequence and by rights, had he have held to the charter he had signed and agreed to uphold on his honour and soul, his head would now be crudely parted from torso, providing but a few moments of addled joy for some stinking barbarian. Bastards! The absolute friggin’ bastards! They would pay and pay dear if he could but get the opportunity. To inflict pain on just one of the ****s would be… must be… a justice of sorts.

As the haze of anger slowly faded, Isaac glanced up the tunnel where the witch had disappeared some time ago. Nothing. She had bid them stay here on pain of some extreme death beyond their pitiful comprehension. She had warned them that if they ventured into the depths of the cave, the horror they currently felt would be as nothing to what would be methodically inflicted upon them. To the warning, Moro was unconscious and the priest distracted, completely paralysed by fear.  Isaac however took the threat gravely.

He glanced once more down at the sickened sailor as he gently laid Moro’s head down on the cold cave floor. The intense heat from his fevered body made Isaac uncomfortable, the mess that had become of his leg made worse in the tepid light. It would be far better to die with a sword through the heart than this: each laboured moment progressively more painful than the last. He drew his knees beneath him as he kneeled to stretch his cramped arms and back. It was then that he realised that the bastard priest was no longer nearby at the front of the cave. He was gone.

“Priest?” He harshly whispered.  “Where are you damn it?!”
His hoarse voice tensely echoed down the cave, as he looked frantically from side to side. Had he found a way to escape… or had he gone down the cave tunnel? Terrefin take his hide for sail he didn’t need this. He stood awkwardly as the blood seeped back into his legs. Trying to penetrate the poor boundaries of the timid light he could see nothing. Nothing. It was like the man had vanished… or been taken.

***​
_In the cave at this time…_

The pallid light was gone but in madness, Dannikin could see. Not in the regular sense or by terms defined by his natural vision, but in the sense of unrestrained insanity: an unnatural affinity with the surroundings pervaded the fat priest’s distorted judgment. He knew he was doing something wrong but the part of him that managed his faculties of logic was compacted into a tight impenetrable ball, inert from its surroundings. He continued down the cave, passage, hallway – whatever it was – unheeding, lurching, yearning for… something.

Like an instantaneous shift in his perception, he saw the red glow ahead. His head cleared slightly as he made a perverted sense of what he saw. The witch was below in a large circular depression in the cave like the opening into a small subterranean amphitheatre. Around her were things no mortal man should ever have to bear witness. The dark spirits of the netherworld raced around her, blackened and corrupted, their intertwining spirals and circles representing some ritual of profound evil. The red light seemed to have no source but its dull glow illuminated more than what Dannikin, frozen by the display, wanted to see.

The witch was held aloft several feet above the ground by an invisible force, her arms pinned above her like some ancient crucifixion of malignant significance. Directly beneath her was a receptacle, a chalice made from a foreign and vile metal, shaped into the form of a creature beyond the former priest’s knowledge. It glowed as it caught an ichorous dark fluid slowly dripping from and down her body. Dannikin’s gaze lifted from the chalice and slowly up her body, rivulets of the fluid needling down her unflesh like some spidery desecration. It was however her face that woke him out of his insane and riveted inanimation. Her eyes were closed in an autoerotic, orgasmic climax of corrupted joy. The unflesh that was her lips ripped as the screams from her throat became more violent but completely haunting in the absolute silence surrounding the entire area. As if suddenly unfettered and unloosed from his binding to the rite he ran spastically, tripping over himself to get away. Dannikin sped from the scene of despair, his momentary mortal presence seemingly unnoticed. He ran and ran and ran, unaware and ignorant of the horrific culmination of the dark ritual: the shadowy fall and submersion of a small tumescent lump into the gorged vessel.

***​

_A short time later where Isaac stood, the fear of desolation crippling his perceptions…_

Isaac’s mind started to play tricks upon his senses as images of strange entities entered his perceptions. Moro was dying and it was as if something or many somethings in the caves darkness were eagerly and rapaciously awaiting some unspoken opportunity. He looked around fearfully before the hatred began to well once more. Isaac did not even realise that he was in his own mortal way feeding off of the painful dying of the sailor. He looked for the knife, eventually finding it discarded next to the cave wall at the edge of the light. It failed to glisten but its weight provided a node for Isaac’s burgeoning anger and hatred for the Derman population. So focused was he on thoughts of revenge and vengeance that he was knocked off his feet and to the ground by the charging Dannikin. The former priest then crashed into the end of the cavern trying to literally bullock past the barrier. The magics that protected the cave entrance held once more. 

Isaac took a moment looking up from his stricken position before getting to his feet once more in anger. “What the hell are ya doing you ****ing fat fool?”
He advanced to the former priest yelling. “If that bitch comes back wanting answers I swear I’ll haunt your soul for eternity too! You’re lucky I don’t carve this knife into your craven arse…”
Something snapped in Dannikin. “Galasso damn your foul tongue!” he roared. His bulk towered over Isaac as he brought his arm around collecting the mercenary’s jaw. Isaac dropped as Dannikin’s knee came up to collect his falling body with a fleshy crunch. Dannikin’s fury then turned into fear; he suddenly seemed shocked by his actions as Isaac slumped to the ground. “I’m sorry… I didn’t me to… oh my…”

Isaac stirred then looked up rubbing his jaw. The blow had evaporated the hatred as quickly as it had swelled. For a moment he almost laughed, he didn’t think the bastard priest had it in him. The pain strangely enough engendered the beginnings of a strange respect.  Isaac shook his head. “Save the roundhouses for later, they’ll come in handy.” He felt his jaw once more assuring himself that nothing was too badly broken. “Damn you throw a good punch”.
Dannikin looked down at Isaac before proffering a fat hand to help him up. Isaac took it – strangely signifying a bizarre peace or truce of sorts.
Dannikin, still troubled by his erratic emotions whispered, “We must get out of here. I saw things no man should ever have to see. Whatever foulness the witch follows will take more than just our lives, on our souls I swear.”
“Damn it I just wanna get outta here. What happened?” Isaac said screwing up his face.

Just before Dannikin could respond, an expulsive groan emanated from Moro. Isaac rushed over, Dannikin quickly following. For whatever reason though, Moro refused to give up and allow himself to be taken by the unseen presences haunting him. “It’s like he will not die, no matter what pain his body suffers,” Dannikin observed.
“Well stuff that, he’s suffered damn well enough! He doesn’t have to live through this **** anymore.” Isaac grabbed the knife from where he had dropped it and then sought to penetrate Moro’s vitals to give him his final peace. As he went to plunge the sailor’s knife deep into Moro’s ribcage, some force ripped it from his hands sending it flying, the force pushing him back also.

“His fate is not yours to decide mortal,” spat the witch, her presence previously un-noted but terrifying in the sudden visage she now presented. She stepped forward, her naked corpse sickening in the olive light.  Behind her floated a chalice carried aloft by the hint of a shadow. Isaac was frozen to the spot while Dannikin’s bloodless face had whitened to a horrified pale; he fell to the ground, collapsing in utter terror.

“It is now time for you to serve out your promise to me mortal filth! Drink deeply from the chalice and slake your thirst.” The words once more were spat from her ruptured lips. Neither Isaac nor Dannikin moved whilst Moro lay as still as before, the look of pain still squarely upon his tormented features. The dark spirit holding tightly to the chalice floated forward to within reach of the men, it’s mien one of lust, urgency and extreme hunger. Dannikin’s fat bulk had backed away to the cave wall while Isaac looked upon the vessel with unhidden disgust. He simply could never force himself to reach out and grab hold of the chalice.

“Drink you fool! You test a patience I fail to have.”
Isaac still refused to move, the complete terror overbearing his senses. He then thought to perceive movement from within the chalice. As his senses flew inside his head colliding haphazardly within the inner shell of his skull, he thought to glimpse a fleshy foetal knob reach from the chalice and beckon to him. The unbridled horror before him forced timid consciousness from his features. Isaac slumped before some force took hold of his system arching his back in extreme pain and forcing his mouth wide open. He struggled with the unseen force while Dannikin’s spastic fit of terror continued behind him. The corpse witch stepped forward with utter hatred on her face.

“Now”, she hissed, sending a bolt of pure energy into Moro’s body driving it into the wall next to Dannikin’s moaning, “Drink of the chalice or I will take the life from you as well”.
Moro’s thrown body was caught at an unnatural angle on the cave floor, an incarceration of electricity arcing through the lifeless corpse. Isaac then felt the force upon him release slightly. What courage and will he maintained coalesced in that single moment as he hoarsely whispered, “Death will be a release you bitch. Kill me now. I no longer care.”

There was silence.

Isaac then heard a sound he could not immediately comprehend. He soon realised the sound to be an insane cackle from the witch aimed directly at him. She was laughing. He turned his neck to see Moro’s body moving, unnaturally rising as the flesh sickeningly sloughed from his bones in reaction to the staccato motion.
“Serve me alive or serve me dead. It is all as one”, she hissed laughing at the fates of these foolish mortals.

The undead body of Moro, charged to repletion with negative energy from the cave spirits that had haunted him, awaited patiently for further instruction. The force she commanded now viciously gripped Isaac like a vice forcing his jaw to horribly overextend before dislocating from its joints. The dark shadow holding the cup was eager to serve and poured the uncongealed contents down Isaac’s stretched gullet. His body tried to convulse and choke to eruct the foul contents but the dark ichor ran and probed settling deep into his gut. While he could feel the evil fluid at work, he could not comprehend or appreciate the terrible arcane transformation occurring deep within his spent body.

***​

_At the completion of the Dark Ritual of Irian Kasa but before Ochrisi na Dura’s destruction of Moro’s mortal bindings…_

Ochrisi, former flame of the Strauchn felt completely infused by the necromantic rite with dark and extreme power. She glanced down at the homunculus unholy birthed from her rotting uterus as it struggled to remain buoyant, sitting in unnatural happiness in it’s chaliced pool of bloody ichor. The construct would be indispensable to her plans{1} and soon, vengeance would be hers to reap. In fact the thoughts of vengeance pushed many things from her mind – the intrusion upon the rite by the former priest of Galasso amongst them.

Karodo had played her for a fool by a plan so sadistically cunning, its burning left a branded mark upon what was left of her tattered soul. Even now she burned with hatred to think of the foundling he had planted and fooled her with so many years earlier. Blinded by the potential held by her successor, she nourished the babe on the milk of lust, domination and power preparing her perfectly for the role of Shamaness. If only she had known she was slipping directly into the Shaman’s trap. Tricked, she now burned for a revenge beyond Karodo’s comprehension. He thought her dead, which she was. He failed to realise however that she still not only held influence, but also the seed of Karodo’s downfall and defeat. With the mortals to soon be under her complete control, she would force them through the gap in Karodo’s pathetic prophecy and unravel his power and influence to nothing. As long as the fat and feeble mortal revealed to her remained alive, she could penetrate Karodo’s prophecy. The others were simply tools and expendable.

Ochrisi stepped down the tunnel preparing to emplace the final cog in her own augury inspired plan. She felt something try to penetrate the wards at the caves mouth but they held. She commanded the dark spirit holding the large chalice to grip the vessel with its fullest strength. It was replete with her essence, pivotal in being able to control the mortals directly. The tiny construct was now submerged, its ecstasy upon completely immersing itself in her foul essence producing several pulsed gurglings of complete bliss.
“It will not be long now my child and you will fly… you will fly,” she cryptically repeated.

The olive light of the hurtha gem shone ahead and so she stilled, to gauge the life force of the three mortals she had trapped. One was close to death, fighting off the spirits in the cave. They were like unrelenting vultures waiting to penetrate his being with their negative energy. His fight against them was futile, his resolve rapidly weakening. The life force from the obese priest maggot was strong with fear, resilient almost. This troubled her somewhat as it lent itself to unpredictability. She must crush his will first, so she could rely upon a lack of truculent behaviour. The last one of the three would be her instrument to subvert the priest. The hatred flowed through him with vigour and strength; such things could the spirits at her command manipulate with ease. She would force them to drink from the chalice, and be her slaves for what little time remained of their mortal lives. As long as she could keep the fat priest alive, her plan would succeed.

She venomously stepped into the light.

***​
{1} The Rite of Irian Kasa was an ancient ritual favoured only amongst the more powerful and necromantically inclined shamans and wangateurs in the Derman region. The aim of the process was to produce a node of evil that could be transferred to someone’s being so that they could be controlled, abused or destroyed. In terms of game mechanics, it is based upon the necrotic feats and spells in the Libris Mortis tome.

At this stage it is most probably worth delving a little further into the make-up of the Shaman.

The classic magic-users are either “high choice-limited capacity”: the wizard, “low to medium choice, enhanced capacity”: sorcerer and the “very low choice, unlimited capacity” of the warlock. There is nowhere in here that really fits to my concept of the Shaman. To me, a Shaman’s focus is on rituals and transformations, not dissimilar to an arcane druid. However, what mechanically separates them from other casters is a lack of quickly initiated castings. The concept of a standard action to complete a spell should be almost nonexistent for the Shaman. Magic may be in place and be manipulated, or alternatively, a staff or item may be quickly used but the quick conjuring from nothing should simply not be their forte. The magic requires a vehicle such as a charm, skull, construct or other device to be effective. As such, while the ritual takes a lot more time, likewise is the time of effect extended as well.

In the above case, rather than casting the necrotic spells, a ritual is performed producing the chalice of ichorous liquid and the necrotically infused homunculus. The liquid has only a very short time span to be effective upon the recipient (imitating the necrotic cyst spell) while the homunculus becomes a semi-permanent effect awaiting use. The homunculus which is the prime product of the Irian Kasa ritual, has all of the necrotic spells infused into its being – including the devastating effect of Necrotic Termination. Such is Ochrisi’s attempted plans for Karodo.

***​

_A short time later with the Corpse Witch gazing into Dannikin’s stricken face, the Chalice but inches away…_

Dannikin was frozen against the wall as Ochrisi na Dura’s gaze penetrated his very soul. So consumed was he that he failed to perceive Isaac’s continued agonised writhing to the side of him; Isaac was clutching his guts in agony as his innards were slowly replaced by some foul degenerate tissue{2}. The passive patience of the undead Moro glancing mindlessly at events provided a horrific juxtaposition and counterpoint.

“Do not force me to apply the chalice’s nourishment to your quivering lips”, she warned. “Get up. Take the chalice and drink of your own volition.” 
By this stage, the tiny construct had exited the vessel and crawled to her shoulder where its wet, crumpled and fleshy wings tried to extend unsuccessfully. It tried to communicate but failed to telepathically convey more than a basic emotion of joy, celebrating its rotting newness. It clambered to the ear of its “mother”. Dannikin was so frozen with fear; he could not even shut his eyes or turn away from the complete horror. 

Just then, the Witch’s eyes suddenly dilated in terror as the power that was holding her soul to her rotted corpse evaporated. She felt in that precise moment the death of Ugari and the extinguishing of the flame of the Strauchn. In desperation, she instantly put forth a magic but unfortunately, its path would only go in a single direction: directly to that of the priest. Her soul screamed as Dannikin tried to resist her spirit trying to penetrate his own. He failed pitifully; the power still held by the former flame of the Strauchn was too strong for Dannikin’s battered body and soul. However, rather than his consciousness being trampled into the depths of his skull, he felt the awareness of the witch permeate and pervade his senses. He could feel her malevolence, evil and hatred infiltrate and takeover his system. The madness of a hatred and revenge beyond his comprehension irrevocably stained his soul as the full weight of her spirit found life within his poor body.

Initially she had panicked. Now, as the shock to Dannikin’s and now her system waned slightly, the full reality of her (their?) situation dawned. Dannikin’s hoarse throat then roared in angst and agony, not totally of his own volition. His mind now worked beyond a pace of its natural rhythm. How could the spirits of fate be so cruel? Why had her prophecies not revealed Ugari’s death? How would she now achieve her revenge? The thoughts were like a volley of bolts into his skull as the rapid-fire inquisition in his mind continued unhalting and unabated. The tension inside Dannikin’s skull was enormous as the soul spirit of the witch took over his system.

He felt powerless and uncontrolled as she then ruthlessly controlled his actions, her will dominating his actions entirely. He looked down; the homunculus was fleshly flopping on the ground like a fish bereft of water. Ochrisi forced his body to pick the cold fleshy lump up and return it to the Chalice. A horrific surge of emotion struck Dannikin’s nerves as he felt the most unholy of connections with the sickening creature. It now looked up to him as it’s mother, spontaneously linking itself to the witch’s essence inside him.

Ochrisi’s essence then waxed in ascension once more. She would fulfil the prophecy {3}revealed to her, even if it must be from inside the weak and feeble body of a man. Ochrisi now began to understand the full cunning ramifications of Karodo’s dire plan. He must have plotted his machinations over a period of time beyond her foulest fears. To do this required an incredible patience beyond her estimations and judgment. Had he also planned then for her imminent unseen attack? What prophecies had been revealed to him and did he understand their fullest meaning? She pondered further before scattering the seeds of doubt with a savage swipe of her will. She then made her preparations to leave her cave for the final time.

***​
{2}The effect of the Necrotic Cyst had taken effect deep inside Isaac’s stomach. Perhaps fortunately, he did not understand the full ramifications of this.

{3}It had been revealed to Ochrisi na Dura shortly after her undead resurrection that she would indeed have an opportunity to take her revenge upon Karodo. She had distilled the augury to the point where it would take the actions of a man foreign to the soil of Derman to touch and make vulnerable the evil Shaman of the Pianatha. The use of the necrotic homunculus was her own device, to inflict the most painful death imaginable upon her mortal enemy.


***​

_And again later but in a different cave deep within the territory of the Pianatha as the dawning of the prime sun shone into the cave’s entrance…_

The Demon spoke.
“We have succeeded oh brother of mine. Our victory sees the prophecy fulfilled. The true power will be ours to command…”
Karodo allowed the demon spirit to continue whispering and rambling thoughts of power in his possessed mind; it’s harsh but snivelling voice providing suitable ambience for the moment. Bereft of sight, his other senses had frighteningly grown to compensate. He could feel the slight tendrils of warmth timidly making their way to his present position. He could also feel the familiar stench in his cave beyond that of his base olfactory senses. Fear, pain and remembered agony could still be smelt by Karodo in this his sanctum of dominion.

Aside from the presence of the kneeling Jengus whose deeply drawn breaths laboured in shared victory behind him, there was now a new aura pervading the cavern. The horned growths that had disgorged from Karodo’s sockets pulsed and fibrillated in excitement and sensation to the savagery directly in front of him. The stake penetrating the cave floor held aloft a gored prize upon its decayed, ancient and jagged point. Its prize was the severed head of Ugari: Shamaness, Wisdom and Light of the Strauchn Clan, teacher, mentor and lover to the Alienist Lucifus Cray, dread victor over former flame of the Strauchn Ochrisi na Dura and unbeknownst to almost all, the prophesised and biological daughter to the disfigured Shaman currently revelling in exultant joy over the brutality of her decapitated head. {4}

***​
{4}Prophecy like most rituals formed the backbone of a Shaman’s activities and role. The ability to truly divine and understand the portents they foresaw was pivotal in the success of any Shaman guiding their clan.

For Karodo, he was about to fulfil the prophecy he had unearthed so many turns before. He would gain eternal life in exchange for the defeat of the Pianatha’s eternal enemy: The Strauchn. The prophecy revealed that he would then conquer and unite the coastal tribes and rule over all and that none could stand in his way. The prophecies he had revealed spoke of many instances, which he had augmented over the turns through numerous divinations. Understanding the core of the prophecy however had eluded him for many moons until one day, he understood the strange path that he must take. It would be many turns of the sun in its fulfilling but patience he must have. The spirits of fate had told him that only when he could defeat one of the Strauchn that was of the seed of his loins would the spirits unite behind him.

He had tried many things over the years to accomplish this, all to no avail. It was only when he learned through a particularly powerful, new and innovative divinatory technique that only when one from his seed could rise to the position of shamaness of the Strauchn would he have the power to destroy her and thus his blood enemy. Karodo felt exalted yet defeated at the same time. How could he accomplish such an absurd twist of fate? As he ruminated over the ridiculousness of the concept, it occurred to him how to achieve such ends. Such a thing would take time and planning. And so now, many turns on, he was on the precipice of success. The time had been right; the celestials had been in accord, as what was left of his daughter hung before him. The destruction of his only daughter not only destroyed his enemies but would also now gift him with the immortality he craved.

The mixed messages of his most recently failed divination had been forgotten as he revelled in his perceived success.

***​

_In the early morning, hidden inside his enclosure having escaped the immediate implosion of the societal bindings of the Strauchn, Lucifus Cray looks upon the stricken headless body of Ugari, anger in his heart and revenge upon his lips…_

The fear of the Shamaness that held the nature of the barbarian tribe in check and unity had dissolved. Some of the now destroyed clan had run to escape while others saw only the opportunity for conflict. Amongst this upon the sward, Lucifus had been oblivious until the callous, grim visage of Sarrash began a cachinnating convulsion at Lucifus’s expense. No sooner had Lucifus turned than his eyes had directly gone to the fallen, blood-spattered and decapitated body of Ugari. The bottom of his entire world had fallen away at the sight of her stricken body. Lucifus had turned back to Sarrash with hatred upon his features. No words had been exchanged.

Now as Lucifus floated agitatedly in his Grandee’s Cottage having saved her remains from the random behaviour of the dissolving tribal factions, he looked down despondently upon her rent corpse. While he had cleansed the mud and spattered blood from her beheaded body, her skin had slowly lost its natural radiance once held in life, tinged and dulled. The fading of this last small mote of a life once lived signalled the erosion of many emotions in Lucifus, leaving behind a desolate and bitter terrain. Anger, blame, denial and a variety of emotions struck Lucifus as he struggled to deal with his loss, Ugari’s life wrenched from his. Now as he looked down upon her half naked and headless body, he wanted release from the emotional trap and landscape he found himself in. He felt like he could not mourn or grieve, the pain of defeat too much for his senses to cope with. As usual, the basic human motivation was to strive for resolution. Also as usual, this resolution was normally only found in the cold comforting embrace of unreserved revenge.

At this point, Lucifus’s thoughts travelled in several directions as his faculties of logic overtook those of emotion. Firstly was getting to the bottom of what had actually occurred. He had heard that she had been killed by everything from a spirit ghost to a barbarian out of control to himself: her only lover. What he knew was that the Pianatha were more than likely behind the assassination with Karodo at the centre of the hideous web. Secondly was his own protection. He had now set up a range of arcane protections to warn of any nearby intruders. He had a large number of summonings, scrolls and magics at his disposal if anyone got too intrusive or fractious. And lastly, his enslavement to the ideals of revenge was absolute as he made preparations for vengeance. While his drawing of Sarrash to the prime had not proceeded according to intention or planning, he still had several options at his disposal. Lucifus had pulled out a myriad of scrolls, parchments and tomes collected from some of the farthest reaches of the known world in his now driven and direst pursuit. He would personally wipe the Pianatha off the face of the planet. 

Something then set off a tinkling alarm in Lucifus’s crowded mind. He had visitors.

***​

_On the outskirts of the Strauchn territory; the final capitulation and dissolving of the Strauchn occurs merely hours after the assassination of Ugari… _

Tunthi lifted Gnasa over his head in exhaustion but victory. By his side and defending his back, Murga – the now former cook of the Strauchn - held his very large stick at the crowd of former clansmen that surrounded them. They had killed several challengers and numerous others lay stricken on the grassy surrounds, several boulders bearing witness to the savagery. The tension had risen to the point where several barbarians in the crowd withdrew in defeat. Tunthi yelled at the cowards as the crowd then thinned dramatically. Murga provided an interesting contrast, his massive biceps and cords of muscle passive but the threat on his face was enough to halt any last moment heroics. It had been the third time their group had been attacked by other factions within the clan. Now there were only two of them left and while Murga was in reasonable health, his leader Tunthi had blood running down his back from what should have been a mortal wound, just to the side of his spine. Tunthi in his usual way ignored the damage continuing to exhort his victory as the rest of the crowd scattered in various directions.

“Cowards. They run like fleas.” Tunthi exclaimed.
Murga grunted looking at Tunthi’s back and shaking his head. His own wounds were serious with numerous cuts and broken fingers and ribs. With a grim face he turned to Tunthi.
“We won’t make it to Jengus. I tell you now, we must seek tuk-tuk’s help.”
Tunthi looked down at his left arm, almost totally covered in blood, most of which must have been his own. The bravado of just moments before had quickly evaporated. “Tuk-tuk not like Tunthi. Tuk-tuk not help.”

Murga shook his head as he helped Tunthi, the massive warrior’s muscles cramping in exhaustion.
“We will go to him. I believe he will want revenge. I think he will help us… unleash his pet upon Pianatha.”
Tunthi had now faded, leaning heavily on the doughty warrior beside him. Murga had been a staunch ally to the clan leader – almost to the point where their relationship could be considered a friendship – not that there was any formal concept of this amongst the barbarian tribes. He now led Tunthi back to find the tuk-tuk spirit master, their initial journey of revenge stalled by those of their former clan more interested in the petty inner-clan squabbles than the loss of their Shamaness. The burning for revenge heated Murga’s blood, as well as that of Tunthi’s; what little blood there was left in their exhausted frames.

***​

_Later Inside Lucifus’s Dwelling…_

Murga looked at the body of the Shamaness, raw emotion stark upon his hardened features. Lucifus was tending to Tunthi, making dissatisfied exclamations here and there beyond either of the half-orcs understanding or capacity.
“He will die and die soon”, said Lucifus bluntly in the guttural Derman tongue. “There is nothing more I can do to ease his passage to your spirit world. I am not a healer.”
Murga, as tough as the granite that made up the foundation of the headland shook his head. “He cannot die. I have seen him take worse than this and survive.”
Interested by the half-orc’s unusually expanded vocabulary, Lucifus spoke further. “I agree. He is different to others. He should never have survived his ascension to leadership. His wounds that day would have killed a bull.”
Murga, stoic as ever leaned over, his face barely expressing the pain of losing his Clan’s flame and then leader in one foul day. “If that is what the spirit’s wish then so shall it be.”

Distracted, Lucifus thought for a moment upon Murga’s utterance; something about the statement disturbed him. While Lucifus had the utmost respect for Ugari’s abilities – her talent to reach beyond was the sole reason for his presence in this barbaric land – he could still not reconcile their fascination with perverse prophecies and the focus they placed upon the spirits and their fates and the intertwined destinies they supposedly held. Lucifus’s philosophy on destiny was completely reversed in comparison. To him, life, power, love and lust were there to be taken by those who endeavoured and achieved, not those who clung to ideals of destiny like a runt to a starving mother’s teat. Damn their prophecies! They had taken Ugari from him but that is where it would stop. Lucifus’s manner was precise and passionate as he spoke once more, “There is something I will do to save Tunthi from a death not of his choosing.” Lucifus looked into Murga’s eyes daring him to suggest otherwise, the massive half-orc backing away slightly at the Tuk-tuk’s vehemence and zeal.

“But you just said…”
“Damn what I just said. I have something that may work but that I had not intended to use… at least not for this purpose.”
Murga just looked on before saying something to break the several moments of silence, “He will survive? You can save him?”
“You just ****ing watch me.”

Lucifus stepped over to where several chests lay against the wall of the stone cottage. Inside was a scroll, tattered with age but still crackling with arcane potential. It was a summoning spell of the highest degree. Lucifus unfurled its length, gazing at arcane representations that were familiar but uncomfortably beyond his natural power. Like most of his scrolls and possessions, they were once his master’s. He rolled it up once more emplacing it upon the table on top of a myriad of other arcane equipment. He wondered then whether this course of action would actually work. Looking at Tunthi’s spent body followed by Ugari’s several steps away, he knew it must. Lucifus then prepared for the undoubtedly hostile and tensive atmosphere that would soon pervade the small dwelling. He would seek the aid of a celestial.

A short time later with Tunthi’s shallow and laboured breathing failing, Lucifus intoned the specific measure of the scroll with perfection{5}. Murga backed away defensively at the sudden celestial appearance and magnificent visage of a Leonal. Its white mane and regal features projected a majestic aura into the dwelling. It made no move to attack anything or anyone; its powerful arms were crossed, awaiting instruction or something – its features grim and of stone. Lucifus uncomfortably floated back ever so slightly to allow the celestial space inside the cramped quarters of the cottage.
“I am glad you have arrived at such a dire time as this. As you can see, someone requires your attention and aid. If you could but apply curatives to his tortured body.”
The Leonal did not move; not even by the twitch of a whisker.

Murga looked on in concern, his hands reaching for his big stick.
“Murga, do not touch your weapon if you value your life”, Lucifus quickly warned. He then faced the celestial.
“I understand your reticence. However, please understand the nature of the magics that have delivered you here. Please do not force me to enforce the bindings of the contract upon…”
“You understand very little mortal”, roared the Leonal as he gently and gracefully bent his knee to place a hand upon Tunthi’s ruptured body. A glow radiated from underneath the celestial’s clawed hand as the life that had seeped from Tunthi’s frame was restored completely; his many injuries healed as cleanly as if they had never happened. Tunthi gazed up at the leonine beast above him but the celestial grace of the Leonal stilled his questioning features. With not a single word, the Leonal motioned to Murga and applied the grace of the heavens upon his body, this time the gradual process of healing different from the almost instantaneous magics applied to Tunthi.

Having finished his healings, the regal manner of the Leonal once more applied itself to Lucifus in the Ambornan tongue. “You have forsaken the heavens mortal yet now you seek her aid. I have been charged with giving you a precise message that I suggest you heed and heed carefully. By the laws of the heavens, understand that the power of the celestials is a gift that is offered, not a prize to be taken. Retribution will be swiftly sought if you wish to transgress upon the will of the Gods mortal. In essence, change your life utterly if you wish the Heavens to answer your call once more.”
With this the appearance of the Leonal winked out leaving the stone cottage once more in a dingy and shadowy light.

Lucifus looked a little peaked having been chastised and targeted so specifically by the Leonal and from all accounts the Heavens. Disconcertingly, he realised that his behaviour had obviously attracted celestial notice and attention. The look upon the two barbarians faces however told a different story. Not understanding the message delivered from the heavens to Lucifus, they both were in awe and reverence at his power.
“Tuk-tuk heal Tunthi. Tunthi like tuk-tuk”, said the former clan leader. Murga while not adding to these obviously felt similar sentiments to the miracle he had just witnessed. Never before had they seen healing of that magnitude{6}. Murga glanced curiously at the floating man who seemed to all of a sudden go ill and deathly pale. Lucifus could only manage a small quiet exclamation.
“Oh ****”

The questioning glances of the Derman pair were stalled by Lucifus grabbing several items as quickly as he could.
“What’s wrong?” asked Tunthi.
Lucifus did not answer but his frenetic activity had the two barbarians looking questioningly at each other. Perhaps this was a curious part of the ritual: strange tuk-tuk behaviour being the natural classification and consensus. Lucifus then stopped and ordered the pair. “You, grab that chest and you, grab that one”. The pair once more looked strangely at the pointing Lucifus until he ordered them on the pain of death.

What they did not know or realise that Lucifus perceived all too well was that Sarrash had somehow at that instant broken the Bindings of Arcadys. What they could not see that Lucifus viewed with all clarity through the cottages tiny window was the sudden teleported movement of the massive devil to within striking distance of the cottage. They were all about to die.

***​

{5} While any summoning prepared and cast by Lucifus would reach for the furthest realms of the cosmos, scrolls crafted by non-alienists would lack this mystical augmentation resulting in a “standard” summoning. The scroll currently being referred to was a classic “Pervashi’s Unhindered Calling” or more colloquially: “Summon Monster IX”.

{6} Ugari had a small amount of mystical healing at her disposal whilst she graced the soil of Derman. However, it was rarely used and only upon the most dramatic of occasions.

***​
*Responses and Discourse*
I know it makes this update a little long but I figure that if you guys take the time to read this and post up enthusiastic comments, the least I can do is respond to them hopefully adding a few extra tid-bits of information too.



			
				pogre said:
			
		

> I see you have followed the advice you left for Sep. I heartily approve and look forward to whatever writing you care to post. Have a great holiday!
> Hey Glauron,
> I love it when fellow players pipe up in a story hour - be sure to comment often on your perspective. Assuming it doesn't annoy Herreman too much
> 
> ...



Unfortunately, I went against my own advice this time and went for the big update. I wanted to make sure I developed everything how I wanted it preparing for the culmination of all these separate threads into one explosive finale. I hope I’ve set it up well enough.
As for Glauron101 [aka Father Brian of Galasso], bah… don’t listen to a single word out of his mouth, as they are all lies.  {Sorry Glauron}
Actually, it will be good to see his perspective on things – although we all know him for a goody two shoes of Galasso. 

Thanks for the bump too – it makes you feel so good to think people actually care about the story you’re trying to tell.



			
				Mortepierre said:
			
		

> Eh, I would never have guessed from your style that you were writing from down under!
> 
> As for me, all I'll say is
> 
> Oh, aye, and that I have updated my own SH as a result of your numerous praises as well.



Good to see you’re still here for the ride. It’s going to get a little bumpy so hang on. As for my style, I didn’t realise Australians really had a style. Like most things, be it cooking, wine or many things Australian seems to mean a montage of many different flavours and influences from elsewhere.
As for your own SH, looking forward to any update you care to add – hopefully soon.



			
				HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:
			
		

> Consider my appetite well and truly whetted.
> 
> I await satiation .....



I hope you have enjoyed the feast above. While it has taken me over a month to write, it has been pretty difficult to get it exactly how I want it; it has seen that many edits, it is simply not funny. Some of the ideas though I had to get just right and like a dog with a bone, I could not post it until I was completely happy with it. Look forward to further comment from you.



			
				Glauron101 said:
			
		

> *Wandering Cleric Arrives*
> "So this explains the origins of the nefarious Lucifus Cray.
> Well may ye seek the forgiveness of Galasso.
> Know ye that His obedient servant Father Brian MacPhail sees and observes.
> ...




So Lucifus’s “target practice tool” decides to turn up and give his thoughts. 
Actually, it’s good to have you here for the ride too. I have a feeling that this Story Hour is starting to go places in terms of interest so apply your silly “pawn-of-Galasso’s” thoughts where appropriate. [This is too much fun!]

As for Lucifus enquiring about Father Brian’s past – how do you know he already has not? I thought I alluded to this quite nicely in the earlier postings. As for how this comes out in the end, we will have to see. I warn others reading this that the relationship between Lucifus and Father Brian is strained at best (although that between Glauron101 and myself is very good – we try to meet for lunch once a week where we can).

I look forward to your further comments.



			
				Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Hey Herremann,
> 
> So it the Tomb of Horrors upcoming, or what? I hope you guys do it as it is an awesome adventure! (Protect the Cleric at all costs!!!!)




I don’t want to say too much – there is a lot of ground to cover before we get there. However, I might have to change the title to *Lucifus Cray and the Return to the Tomb of Horrors* much to Destan’s disappointment.

As for protecting the Cleric, he can look after himself and be mulcted for healing where appropriate. As for Lucifus, if he bites the big one, I’m not entirely sure he will be coming back. He has many enemies who would love nothing more than to use his soul as a plaything. I think pdmiller the DM might make getting Lucifus back a little difficult. Besides which, I don’t think Father Brian would want to do it anyway – except just to have the satisfaction of killing Lucifus himself. 



			
				Hannibal King said:
			
		

> Hey Herremann. This may be a really dumb question but can I assume that all parts of your storty hour that DON'T involve the other players are just made up stories?
> If so do any of the other players go into this much detail with their background characters? and if not do they resent you for it, especially when the DM focuses adventures around your background?
> I had two players who wrote big backgrounds like yours and I would try an accomadate them whenever I could, the other players who didn't bother with BGs tended to not mind, or at least they never complained to me about the lack of focus on their BG-less characters. Personnaly I love to see this creativity in character BGs, it makes for great reading.
> 
> ...




Thanks for posting – I really appreciate any and all input. The background arc in the treacherous lands of Derman is quite important to introducing Lucifus’s perspective on a variety of things so when the in-game action continues, you guys are up with why Lucifus acts the way he does – although I’d like to think it’s a good yarn anyway. In answer to your question though, it is just a made up story. I gave the DM a fairly elaborate background and this story is effectively filling in the gaps.

As for other players, I think all of our players like to create and do things away from the group – we all seem to like the inventiveness of it all. In regards to bothering the other players, I try not to let all this stuff have too much weight on proceedings. If anything, it has been fun revealing Lucifus’s back-story, teasing and tantalising the other PCs with out of campaign information that they suspect but can’t really act upon. Boy would Father Brian like to use some of this stuff against Lucifus. 

As for another player, I apologise that I have not responded further. This particular campaign is really not my province and is pretty much “full”. However, if anything separate comes up, you sound like you would be a perfect fit for our group in terms of how you play and your interests. I hope to hear from you soon.



			
				Destan said:
			
		

> I just have to pop in to say something I've been meaning to say ever since pogre's and mortepierre's pimps brought this yarn to my attention:
> 
> The Happenings of Lucifus Cray is the best damned story hour title out there.
> 
> ...




Thank you so much for delurking and commenting with such praise, it means a lot coming from someone whose writing and talent I appreciate so much. I hope you don’t mind me “yoinking” your comments into my sig. They really are highly appreciated.

I hope you enjoy the tale and the adventures to come.

Feel free to delurk when and where you wish. 



			
				pdmiller said:
			
		

> *The Cray thing....*
> 
> Hey Herremen, been a while since I checked in and read your SH, it's developed nicely! Hurry up and bring it to the "present" please, I'm enjoying it immensely. I think your writing is getting better and better, and I'm particularly looking forward to your account of Vilmi's unfortunate outing with Nemhan and Titus.
> 
> ...




I’m glad you’re enjoying this too. Can I just warmly say how good this guy is in terms of DMing. I suppose a lot of our perspectives on the D&D game are similar but really, it is the world you have painfully and magnificently crafted and allowed me to “mess around” with that really forms the spine of this Story Hour. The fantastic contribution of the other PCs in future instalments lends such a wonderful counterbalance to Lucifus’s activities. This story hour would be nothing without the efforts of the other players – so thank you to you all.

As for getting to the present – I’ll get there as quickly as possible (I’ve half written a lot of the material so things should speed along nicely with more frequent updates forthcoming.)
As for my writing, it’s slowly improving. I feel I get a little indulgent sometimes so its something I try to watch.

As for Vilmi’s little excursion with Titus and Nemhan, I am already smiling at what I will be looking forward to write. And as for reducing Nemhan’s knee-knocking, if Lucifus had a greater wisdom than 6, he might be thinking twice himself. 

As for Lucifus getting out of this one, you’ll just have to wait and see – I did tell in my back-story to you that he had a little extra baggage compared to the average PC . 

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise


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## Ero Gaki (Jun 6, 2005)

Yo, Herremann, any chance of you and your group posting a rogues gallery? I'd really enjoy seeing the numbers behind your characters.


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## Glauron101 (Jun 6, 2005)

*Lucifus Continues to Endear himself*

Well you can all see my dilemma. The depths of depravity to which this poor lost soul has sunk.
If he dies would I call upon Galasso to resurrect him. Extremely unlikely, but it might depend on the manner of his death, and his willingness to come back from the hell whence he seems destined. And who knows what influences might turn him from his current path (sorry, no spoilers)
Were I a druid I might reincarnate him.   , fortunately I am a humble servant of Galasso.
Father Brian

PS. Excellent addition to the Lucifus background young Herremann.


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## Glauron101 (Jun 6, 2005)

*Father Brian*



			
				Ero Gaki said:
			
		

> Yo, Herremann, any chance of you and your group posting a rogues gallery? I'd really enjoy seeing the numbers behind your characters.




Father Brian is a L15 Cleric of Galasso.
Stats at start of career were: Str14; Dex12; Con 18; Int 12; Wis 18; Cha 14.
I pumped Wisdom to 21 through L4,8, & 12, +4 from a periapt of Wisdom (made it meself; the DM is stingy with the magic items    )- now 25
I also have Gauntlets of Ogre power giving Str 16, which lets me toddle around in my +3 mithril full plate. Other than that, nothing special.
I have no idea about the other players stats, and unless they read this post, they wouldn't know mine.


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## Rikandur Azebol (Jun 6, 2005)

Excellent storyhour, Harremann. 

And as for Your trouble with Shamans. Chmm ... I had this issue sometime ago and come to such conclusion (In a homebrew where were no Spellslingers except Demons/Angels but Players were allowed to *use magic* anyway):
Make them Experts, expertising in all stuff religious/sacred to Tribes they belong to.
Use rules from the _Book of Vile Darkness_ about the Sacrifices ... and transform it a little, so all aligments could use them. Not just Evil ones. 
Give requirment of Focus for magic stored for later (Magic Item !  ) 

And Viola ! Here are our snivelling Goblin Shamans casting their bad Ju Ju ! At nasty adventurers crossing their path.


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## ragboy (Jun 8, 2005)

Fun stuff! Keep it up.


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## Elder-Basilisk (Jun 27, 2005)

Well, I've just discovered this and since Herriman is obviously taking some kind of extended vacation, I'll just have to bump it and see if I can bring the story back to his attention.

Who knows, maybe we'll even get to the in-game story


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## Mortepierre (Jun 27, 2005)

Herremann the Wise said:
			
		

> Good to see you’re still here for the ride. It’s going to get a little bumpy so hang on. As for my style, I didn’t realise Australians really had a style. Like most things, be it cooking, wine or many things Australian seems to mean a montage of many different flavours and influences from elsewhere.
> As for your own SH, looking forward to any update you care to add – hopefully soon.




Done, your turn now


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jun 30, 2005)

Hey Herremann. Loving the background heavy approach. The writing is very good, despite chunks of exposition, the chapters really do speed along at a fair pace. I'm really enjoying this.

Spider J


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## pogre (Jul 6, 2005)

Herreman promised me a new update in the near future! Bumping it for easy reference for our beloved writer!


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## Herremann the Wise (Aug 15, 2005)

*The Drawing of the Threads of Fate*

_Upon the battered headland once of the Strauchn, a hidden boy witnesses the annihilation of all he knows…_

He had no name.

Scared, he had carefully buried himself under one of the many boulders dotting the landscape of the headland high above the crashing waves of the sea below. A hollow had been formed underneath the massive stone with a small muddy gap on either side. Through one sodden opening was the nearby rock dwelling used by the strange spirit man from across the sea. Through the other far in the distance was the spirit beast that had been trapped by the same spirit man. Even from such a great range the horrific image of the beast utterly terrified him.

The rain of the night and morning had stopped, replaced by an afternoon of unspeakable gloom. The boy had hidden under the boulder as the axe and stick fights had ensued across the foreground. The dead had just been left upon the muddy ground beyond. Normally, the fights between those with names{1} amongst the clan were exciting, brutal and inspiring. The ragged, manic explosion of violence accompanying the death of the Shamaness and thus the death of the Strauchn clan however had filled the young boy with fear. The warriors with names were just killing each other, momentarily grouping together in accord before breaking apart once more in rabid violence. He looked at the nearest body to him; a clansman he did not recognise or know. The head looked directly at the boy at a bizarre angle, the eyes staring blankly in death, the body bordered by dark muddy crimson.

There was a large, immaculately worked fighting stick in the sludge next to the body; most likely the weapon he held in life. The boy looked at the weapon, licking his lips with avarice. He thought several times of just going out and grabbing it before crawling back under the huge stone. However, it was far enough away from the boulder that he feared to risk exposing himself to the sporadic attention upon the sward. The temptation of claiming the weapon could not persuade him out from under the boulders hollow.

It was then that a deafening rip and crackle of lightning made the boy push deeper into the mire. His muddied shanks gripped the sodden earth, before his head slowly craned towards the gap. He intended but a single glance. With his head just above the slight opening, he could see the spirit nightmare yonder. It was violently moving in its position, straining and struggling and forcing its arms and claws upwards, invisible chains restricting its movements as the fracturing of energy crackled across the sward. As the boy completely fascinated looked once more, he thought the creature to appear… more vivid, more alive. In the gloom, the creature strained against its bindings once more, a thundering crack and splintering of purest energy tearing the air between the glowing ground underneath it and its terrible claws. It howled in agony as it continued to fight the last vestige of magic grasping and clutching it. Then in a moment of pure terror, it finally roared in victorious pain as it suddenly rent the bonds around it with a sweeping arc of its twisting unbound claws.

Sarrash was free.

As the boy looked to the distant image of the beast, the creature instantaneously disappeared. The sound of an explosion on the other side of the boulder forced the boy deep down into the mud once more, burying himself underneath the protective stone. While he could not see the rage of Sarrash, he could hear the horrific blasts and feel the terrible trembling of the creature’s claws smashing apart the ground so near to him. With his whitened knuckles clenched to breaking, the boy dared to steal a timid glimpse at the creature’s devestation. He saw that the stones of the spirit man’s dwelling had been smashed and strewn like so many pebbles by the beast.

As the creature’s frustrated blows intensified, the strange building of rocks was completely ripped asunder. The deafening roar of anger bellowed towards the boy as he froze in pure terror not being able to pull himself down once more. Fixed and frozen, all he could see was the rotting massive hooves the size of boulders gouging deep into the sodden ground in front of him. The putridly massive maggot-like parasites that invaded and tunnelled through the beast’s body plunged quickly through the infernal hooves into the mud penetrating the ground immediately in front of his boulder.

Sarrash turned.

As the ripened anger of momentarily losing the mortal ever so slightly receded, Sarrash smelt and now sensed other souls that would suffice for the nonce. It would gorge upon them first before turning its attention once more to the mortal delicacy that had tried to incarcerate it. In a single motion of rabid hunger, it swiped aside the boulder crushing the small body underneath it. With the soul trapped and pinned by its infernal touch, Sarrash picked up the fleshy rags that remained of the small mortal. It dropped the flesh and bones into its maw with gouts of acrid salivation wetly soaking the ground below. The agonised, screaming features of the child’s soul glistened newly wet as a distorted image upon Sarrash’s rotting hide – the soul captured for eternity. It was a start to a reaping such as the prime had not seen before.

***​
{1} The Derman warrior culture was perhaps best represented by their simplistic system of naming. A warrior could only claim a name when they had killed in battle. As such, the rite of passage of younger warriors mortally blooding their weapons was perhaps the moment of greatest import in a young warrior’s life. The claiming of a name was the true ascension from youngling to clansman.

Interestingly, names tended to be localised and oft repeated – it was common for warriors to take the name of the warrior they had killed. Additionally due to a lack of historical knowledge in terms of myths and legends, the range of names was poorly limited and generally held little actual meaning, substance, import or function.

Naming for most females in the clan is also a subject of interest for the dedicated scholar or anthropologist. In accord with their subservient role within the clan, most females would live their entire lives without name or title. They were just mere chattel for use by others within the clan to be used and abused without favour or position. The women of course had a hierarchy amongst themselves that was followed more so than a system of nomenclature. At times complex, inconclusive and aberrant in nature, this confusing hierarchy is beyond the scope of all except for those very few anthropologists at the pinnacle of their profession.

***​
_Freshly teleporting next to a fetid lake of haunted water deep within the territory of the Pianatha, three figures look around at their new surroundings…_

Murga looked incomprehensively at the surrounding scene: a wooded valley cut deeply into the surrounding mountains, at its base a lake of black, stale water. Tunthi whose feet almost broached the lake’s edge dropped the massive chest in shock, completely ignorant of the nature of the magic that transported them here. The haunting placidity across the valley was quickly broken as the wet slap of the ancient chest owned by a long succession of arcane masters echoed in the gloom pervading the deep valley. With the dark ambience interrupted, a group of nearby Pianatha tribesman reacted with immediacy to the group of intruders. With their strange ritual to Heng’ mara Gash (The Lake of Souls) precluded by the clamour, they advanced down the adjacent mountainside bearing spears and clubs in absolute fury.

In short order however, the battle cries of the locals were quickly silenced; the lakeside perimeter once more freshened with the blood of the dying. The bulk had fallen within but a few heartbeats to Murga’s whirling staff and Tunthi’s devastating axe blade. The pair started chasing the stragglers who had quickly begun to retreat but were beaten by Lucifus. His black-cloaked body calmly stretched forth an arm; his hand releasing empowered magic. The small group of retreating Pianatha were blown apart by a sonically fuelled concussion of energy, the reverberation more felt from a distance than heard. With his mind quickly forcing away previous thoughts of his recent near-death and the closely avoided eternal torture of his soul at the hands of the recently loosed Sarrash, Lucifus coolly looked across at the mangled bodies to a place strangely familiar – although he had never floated above its soil before {2}.

Lucifus floated to the bodies lying on the shoreline, unperturbed when one defiantly pushed itself up to avoid drowning in the thick mud. The warrior looked up at him with half his face missing, painfully replaced by a crimson bloody mask. Circling his body was a cord of some ceremonial but unknown significance. In an act of truculent defiance, the Pianathan snarled at the arcanist’s hovering approach. Lucifus’s response was to push his hand directly into the native’s face, unleashing an explosion of magic and smashing the brains out the back of the tribesman’s skull {3}. The body collapsed for a final time into the mire.

“They will know we are here. Their Shaman is no fool”, Lucifus quietly spoke in the Derman tongue. “Quick. Move my chests out of the muck and to higher ground.”
There was a clenched terseness to his voice, impelled by the presumed loss of many items of power back in his cottage {4}. The two chests they carried as well as his small magical pack represented the tattered remains of his former master’s collection. Through theft, poor choices and all manner of circumstances, he had frittered away the magnificent collection into the paltry assortment in front of him. Lucifus looked around, assuming the teleportation had gained them a small period of time before Sarrash caught up with them once more. He would quickly establish what was left and useable and make his preparations. Lucifus was hopeful that he had enough magical power left to blow away the remains of the Pianatha and in particular their Clan leader and the Shaman shadowing him. 

***​
{2} Lucifus had been shown this place by Ugari in a strange vision. His teleportation to this area was extremely fortunate. However, like in most things, Lucifus has always seemed to strangely enjoy the bounties of fate and fortune. 

{3} While a Dorji’s Unwavering Pulse (a magic missile spell) is no more magically effective when cast directly adjacent to the target (through touch) compared to at range; the overall drama, significance and explosive display is far more impressive. 

{4} Lucifus had also presumed (incorrectly) the loss of his raven Winter, his only ever familiar.

***​
_Deep in the Cave of Karodo, the Exultation of Victory Continues…_

Karodo leaned forward as the feint shadows of several spirits struggled against him; they were held tight by his power. He had just learnt from them of the Strauchn spirit creature’s devastating escape and plunder. The Strauchn killed and destroyed by their own hand, the foreigner who had called the spirit destroyed by his own pet. Karodo swelled with satisfaction and malice, having divined the foreigner’s failure and thus the reaffirmed sealing of his victory. He perceived the pure symbolism of the moment as fate drew its various threads to his liking. The beast would now gorge itself with the remains of his enemy before harmlessly wallowing back to whichever former existence it enjoyed; such was as Karodo had just divined.

The horns protruding from Karodo’s eyes waxed and ached with glorious pain. He could feel his power swelling to the rhythms of fate.

_Author’s Sidenote:_
Unfortunately for Karodo, he had underestimated the creature’s attachment to the prime as well as over-estimated its ability to casually deal with the foreigner Lucifus. Another factor that Karodo was ignoring was the unusual reticent silence of the demon that currently possessed him. It had not even voiced the simplest platitude since news of the large spirit creature’s plunder of the Strauchn. Karodo however in his passionate and megalomaniacal fervour was directing his efforts to his future plans of dominion over the entire Derman peninsula and beyond. Less enthusing thoughts of possible peril were suppressed and dismissed; other factors being neglected entirely in complete ignorance.

***​
_On the Periphery of the Pianathan Land, Jengus Investigates a Recent Disturbance with Several of his Most Trusted Warriors…_ 

Jengus had moved his gigantic frame with power and grace as he scouted into the low lying and haunted valley. He slowed and cloaked himself as the slightly forested area eventually gave way at its base to the body of water, named as Heng’ mara Gash or “The Lake of Souls”. The blood of thousands of sacrificial Pianatha as well as countless enemies had nourished the valleys soil before the moons had even begun to tread their skyward path. Since this ancient time, countless oaths and vows had been given upon its shoreline – souls ceded and pacts made to the powers of darkness that dwelled in this haunted place.

As Jengus carefully maintained his hidden position at the edge of the trees in the dull afternoon light, he could see several figures on the other side of the lake, high up the mountainside sheltering within several craggy protrusions. He had seen all of them recently, immediately recognising Tunthi of the Strauchn from earlier that day upon the Strauchn henge. However, the sight of the floating foreigner directing the other two gave him pause. Jengus could not understand how they could be here so quickly, so close to the heart of the Pianatha {5}. They must have had great spiritual magic at their disposal.

If the foreign spirit-man had survived the terrible creature he had seen upon their sward or even worse had control of it, then he would certainly be of power and far too dangerous. Although… as Jengus sat hidden evaluating their movements, he could tell by their demeanour that they were rushed and not at ease. They had not made significant efforts to remain unseen in the approaching twilight, which could mean almost anything. Jengus’s pulse started racing in blood lust. He had little doubt he could crush the two warriors single-handed, but the spirit man was perhaps another matter. He would be best to seek guidance from his master on the matter.

Jengus backed quietly into the tree line before joining up with those fearsome warriors of his personal cadre who he had held back earlier. Each represented a particular faction within the Pianatha clan although all ceded extreme respect, honour and loyalty to their leader Jengus. Each had performed some ritual of allegiance by Heng’ mara Gash binding themselves to their clan - be it some measure of ceremonial scarification or overt mutilation upon their bodies. They grunted at their leader’s approach.

Jengus performed a symbol for silence as the six tough and menacing warriors looked expectantly upon their massive leader. Jengus indicated nothing further but instead bent down upon his knee pulling a dark skin from behind him. The small pouch was actually made from the scrotum of one of the various predatory beasts that killed clansmen for sport – and obviously vice versa. He unstoppered the pouch with one hand as with the other, he wiped a flattened recess into the soil. He then poured the dark fluid into the hollow on the ground and waited.

The blood of some unknown entity lay viscously still, not seeping into the ground but instead emanating a feint wispy shadow of smoke as the magics about it initiated. The warriors looked on at the spirit gift given to their leader by their shaman. Most had seen such strangeness before although given present circumstances and their vicinity to “The Lake of Souls”; this was particularly eerie for the normally stoic clansmen. The smoke receded, as the surface of the small pool of blood glistened with a strange reflection.

“It is I master,” intoned Jengus. The face of Karodo appeared in relief, his distorted face even further disfigured by the unusual medium. Jengus waited for some unperceived signal before continuing. 
“There is danger at the Heng’ mara Gash. Two of the Strauchn, one their former leader as well as the foreign spirit man await unmolested nearby. I have…”

Jengus’s communication was unexpectedly halted, the momentary shock upon the Shaman’s face unseen by the Pianathan leader before the fluid quickly seeped into the ground. Whatever magic had held it there evaporated with the Shaman’s lack of control. Jengus however, not fully understanding the reasons nor ramifications of his master’s behaviour stood up, his foot angrily kicking the soil in frustration at the wasted magics. 

With a lack of further instruction, Jengus looked around and gathered his men close. They planned the imminent deaths of the three intruders.

***​
{5} The Lake of Souls was in the valley immediately adjacent to its twin that held the bulk of the Pianathan tribe. While the main valley was graced by the mountain river of Torus running through its length, the Lake of Souls was a place of evil for the dead and dying, its stagnant filthy water leeching the life from everything around it. Unlike the crisp almost beautiful lines of the twin valley of the Pianatha next to it, Heng’ mara Gash was formed as if the ground had been sucked away by some massive dark entity. The Pianatha avoided the place in the main except for those performing certain duties, rituals obligations or responsibilities across its width.

***​
*Correspondence*
Firstly may I apologise for my incredibly late update. Between work, a funeral, planning for my own campaign as well as a dozen other lame excuses, I have been swamped and inattentive to this story hour. I won't make any promises for the future that will in all likelihood just be broken once more. However, recently, work has eased, personal issues have been dealt with and my own campaign is taking a slight break while our group returns once more to the lands of Urth and the Happenings of Lucifus Cray. In short, "I'm Back".



			
				Ero Gaki said:
			
		

> Yo, Herremann, any chance of you and your group posting a rogues gallery? I'd really enjoy seeing the numbers behind your characters.



I've been meaning to do this for a while. Unfortunately as I am a player and not the DM of this magnificent campaign, it is somewhat awkward providing the usual rogue's gallery information. However, once I have completed the current story arc, I will start a concerted program of ferreting out the requested information. I suppose as well I'm a little bit wary of making Lucifus Cray open to the group as well. There are particular things I would prefer them not knowing.   




			
				Glauron101 said:
			
		

> Well you can all see my dilemma...



Piffle, whining and poppycock. The powers of the Multiverse will protect Lucifus Cray as he ascends beyond your God's comprehension...   or something like that.  




			
				Rikandur Azebol said:
			
		

> Excellent storyhour, Harremann.
> 
> And as for Your trouble with Shamans. Chmm ... I had this issue sometime ago and come to such conclusion (In a homebrew where were no Spellslingers except Demons/Angels but Players were allowed to use magic anyway):
> Make them Experts, expertising in all stuff religious/sacred to Tribes they belong to.
> ...




The Book of Vile Darkness is such a treasured tome by our DM. Your suggestions of its use however are duly noted. In fact they have given me a few ideas for Lucifus's current situation. Laughs as Lucifus thinks about casting bad Ju Ju Father Brian's way.



			
				ragboy said:
			
		

> Fun stuff! Keep it up.



Good to have you aboard and hope you keep enjoying.



			
				Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Well, I've just discovered this and since Herriman is obviously taking some kind of extended vacation, I'll just have to bump it and see if I can bring the story back to his attention.
> 
> Who knows, maybe we'll even get to the in-game story




Vacation.. if only.   I would then be able to write to my heart's content.
I'm supremely glad you have enjoyed the story so far. The climax of this background story is almost upon us. I can't wait to present what happens in terms of Tunthi and the group in game. Culture clash is most assuredly an understatement.
Fingers crossed I can produce a punctual update this time.   



			
				Mortpierre said:
			
		

> Done, your turn now.




Ha ha. Now that the wheels of creativity are turning once more at their fullest pace, I return the charge of updating back to you - and well looking forward to it too.  



			
				Spider_Jerusalem said:
			
		

> Hey Herremann. Loving the background heavy approach. The writing is very good, despite chunks of exposition, the chapters really do speed along at a fair pace. I'm really enjoying this.
> 
> Spider J



Thank you very much for the fine compliments. While I try to write something that's well paced, my perspective as the author is backward at best - how I read it and how you guys read it are two very separate things. All I can do is hope that people enjoy it. Spider J, I envy your ability to update so well and so regularly. If you can let me in on your secret   ...



			
				pogre said:
			
		

> Herreman promised me a new update in the near future! Bumping it for easy reference for our beloved writer!




  Sheepishly looks around   
The update was provided but most unpuctually. Do not listen to my words, they are all lies when it comes to updating.

However, on a separate note, thank you very much for getting The Happenings of Lucifus Cray on the front page of Enworld and for your continued support. While I try to write for myself, having my efforts recognised does so much for the soul.
I hope you're still enjoying though. We're almost there...

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Aug 15, 2005)

> In short, "I'm Back".




This last update sealed my "favourite story hour" choice. Brilliant stuff Herremann. The behind-the-boulder sequence was superbly timed... nothing like munching children to push a point home.

Another point I enjoyed is the lethal abilities that Lucifus has at his disposal... the destruction of that tribe was short, but gave a nice image. I love wonky CR's.

Anyway. 

Great to see you back Herremann. Who else is there to give me my fix of demons, shamans and uh... necronomicons. Or maybe not.

Spider J


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## BiggusGeekus (Aug 17, 2005)

Destan's siren call in your sig finally lured me here.  Nice story hour.

Just to clairify: is _all_ of this your character's backstory?


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## DMO (Aug 17, 2005)

BiggusGeekus lured me here.  He's sexy.  (And cool in a Latinate way.)

And I've always liked the Tad Williams quote.  Figured it was worth checking out the story hour, too -- which I haven't done yet but am off to do now.


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## pogre (Aug 17, 2005)

> The update was provided but most unpuctually. Do not listen to my words, they are all lies




Welcome back ye' liar.


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## DMO (Aug 17, 2005)

Yeow, that first post is a doozie! I wound up reading half last night and the other half this afternoon. Fortunately, it's written with such an engaging style, and Lucifus is clearly such a force of personality, that you're encouraged to return to it if you don't get through it all in one sitting.

Good stuff. I enjoyed it very much and look forward to following Lucifus and his Happenings.

"If the bears do not eat you, it is home."


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## DMO (Aug 17, 2005)

Oh, and SUBSCRIBE of course.


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## Nephtys (Sep 1, 2005)

Great story, one of my absolute favorites.


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## The Axe (Sep 9, 2005)

Bump


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## Eluvan (Nov 1, 2005)

Well... it's been some time since there've been any updates, or any posts at all in this thread, but nonetheless I want to register my appreciation. Having brought myself up to date with the compulsory Story Hour reading (Wulf, Sep, PKitty, Sagiro) and some extra stuff that immediately appealed to me (Shemeska) I was looking for some more Story Hour goodness and happened to come across this. 

 I have to say, it ranks with the best of all those Story Hours I've read. It's engaging, exciting, and excellently written, and I wish there was more of it. It's lamentably short so far, and it niggles me knowing there must be so much more to tell. How did the big Devil get turned into a toad? Or was that the shaman? And what did Lucifus do next? And how did it affect him? And, finally, how did the telling of all this go down at the dinner party? 

 Not to mention the big question of what the newly-Lucifus-endowed party then got up to. 

 So... I know it can be hard to find motivation (or time) to write sometimes, but you said a while back that feedback was what kept making it worthwhile. So... here's hoping that this makes another update or two worthwhile.


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## Herremann the Wise (Jul 6, 2006)

Hello Everyone,

It has been quite a while since the last update. There may be some new readers too who have not yet partaken in The Happenings of Lucifus Cray so consider this a not so timely bump and update. This update may be awkward to follow without quickly refereshing the story thus far. Apologies for making this difficult.

Just a quick note too to say that this Story Hour while terminally ill is not yet dead. 
I hope you enjoy.

*The Threading of the Weave*

_Inside Karodo’s Cave, High Atop the Massive Solitary Mountain Shadowing the Pianathan Valley…_

Karodo sat distant upon the ancient Lahrum in outward blank torpidity.

The violent rush of thoughts churning inside his being was held in complete abeyance by a will immense, powerful and absolute. One could almost have said he stared blankly except for his lack of orbs; replaced so vividly by demonic horns leached from his very sockets. His plans were in flux, his current motives indeterminate. The mortal foreigner was obviously coming to hunt him down, to seek the death of the Pianatha and an end to his immaculate tapestry of divination and planning. He needed to formulate an effective response.

Karodo had previously tried to reach Jengus in order to effect his immediate return but the magics needed for the act had failed and were spent; Jengus now beyond his current reach. While Karodo’s tapestry presented victory to the casual eye, defeat had somehow cheated the spindle, loosing the thread of doom he had either denied or not perceived. Failure now loomed as a spectre shadowing his ultimate and true destiny.

The cave mouth gracing Karodo’s current position formed an opening visible from all points of the Pianathan Valley beyond, high atop the ancient mountain once known as Khalesh. There were other lesser openings upon the mountainside but all were short or false caves; used as abodes by those of the clan with prestige, might or power. However, the only true entrance that led deep down into the mountain’s soul was that of Karodo’s. Many Shamans of the Clan had inhabited its dark, cold tunnels; the downward series of caves, caverns and cavities forming a labyrinthine history of evil, dark compacts and unimaginable rites. Karodo rarely ventured beyond that of the prime cavern in which he currently sat unmoving. Something however was stirring.

A dark wind blew hesitantly but with increasing determination through the cave mouth. Its gusts began to penetrate the entrance and then deeper, stirring befouled air long undisturbed in the bowels of the massive mountain. Karodo’s outer dormancy and quiescence were maintained for a further portion of time as the dry wind stole past his form. Then he acted.

Like a spring loosed into action, he set about calling the highest spirits he could control to his hand, one after the other in a dark panoply of shadow. In a frenzy unlike anything he had ever done before, he then began a set of magics to augment, enhance, reinforce and defend his cave. The spirits, drawn into accord by a mighty cacophony of magic then empowered the defences of the cavern with ruthless efficiency, each achieving some task of importance, awaiting the moment to unleash their dark power upon the slightest intruder. In a further layering of powerful magics, Karodo redoubled his efforts defending the cave to the point of impregnability. While he now bore an awareness of defeat’s skein, it would have to penetrate the terrible magics of his cave to catch him.

Karodo stood casting a critical gaze as it were across the detailed defences, making requisite adjustments here and there until satisfied. It was during these quiet moments, the thoughts of external threats momentarily forgotten that Karodo’s mind searched for the unusually quiet demon spirit that so annoyingly possessed him. He felt… nothing. And then fleeting across Karodo’s acute perceptions was a quickened almost insubstantial node of evil that could only be the demon spirit fleeing from his internal reach. Like an unsettled dot of quicksilver, it continued to evade his grasp. Quickly losing patience with the exercise, Karodo returned to the sacrificial Lahrum.

As Karodo approached the tainted granite slab with the winds increasing impact gusting past him, a thought crystallised as he sensed anew the quickly putrefying head of Ugari wedged upon the ceremonial spear. There was of course an option he could take to further his immediate chances of surviving any break or unravelling of the prophecy he had so carefully revealed and nourished. He ruminated for several moments longer before his distorted faculties reached consensus. He would bargain a consultation, seeking the aid of something that had been fearfully left alone for many years in one of the deepest, most ancient caverns. 

Karodo began making suitable preparations to travel deep within the mountain structure; he collected several items of importance from the Lahrum as well as a pouch containing the dust of several diamonds. He now sought a place he had only ever been to twice before and with mixed results – one time he received an important seed of wisdom and the more recent he was totally ignored. While he sought advantage as many Pianathan Shamans in the past had done, the ancient cavern and its even more archaic occupant were unpredictable at best. With a certain level of strength, he then took the cold spear (head and all) from the ground, clutched it tightly in both hands and then proceeded to use it like some bizarre symbolic lantern of sahdow to light his even stranger journey downward, into the Black Heart of the Khalesh peak. 

***​
_High upon the mountainside overlooking The Lake of Souls, Lucifus despairs at the size and quality of his current catalogue, unknowing of imminent attention …_

With dusk hazing the sky in tints of fractured pink to deep mauve, and the celestials above sprinkling across the sky like some nebulous dusting of scattered diamonds, Lucifus attended his various adjuncts and devices that had been held within the two salvaged chests. He had hastily conjured a standard stone cottage from an archaic scroll, most likely penned long ago by the master of his former master. The stone dwellings construction felt austere to the point of archaic, unlike his own “Grandee’s Cottage”, which he considered far more comfortable and conducive to both erotic activity and meaningful study.

Having classified those items currently in his possession, he could not help but feel a hollowness rapidly shifting to outright despondency. His prime scroll of “Goriss’ Immaculate Death”, his Wands of Ultimate Piercing, Kryntha’s Ray of Nebulizing and Tort’s Bolt of Atomic Separation as well as many of the materials with which to assist in the calling of creatures from the lower planes were all lost. All the summoning scrolls, which he had so carefully lain out and ordered were now most likely scattered in numerous pieces, their arcane energies completely rent. In addition, the completely uncomfortable magical boots of instant transference were presumably crushed by Sarrash’s wrath where they lay. And in all of the tumult, Winter was lost in the debacle too. Devestation lined Lucifus’s terse features. It was at this point upon the cusp of a dramatic decision to return that his attention was momentarily disrupted.

Two half-orcs traipsed into the impromptu stone chalet, ignorant of Lucifus’s carefully sorted, divided, graded and systemized cataloguing of materials. Tunthi and Murga caught Lucifus in a poor mood.
“Move one more step you fools and I’ll summon a hive of wasps to eat you from the inside out"
Having captured the immediate attention of the two warriors, he then pushed them outside before floating soon after them. Lucifus had earlier suggested that they scout out the immediate vicinity for either intruders or advantage. At this stage, Lucifus did not precisely know their location; just that it would likely be within range of the Pianatha. Never would he have supposed that they were immediately adjacent to the great valley of the Pianatha and the massive mountain holding their Shaman.

Outside the cottage, it was Murga (perhaps having greater wisdom than Tunthi and Lucifus put together) who reported the most relevant fact of their proximity to the Pianathan valley and mountain. “Pianatha over hill. Many many warriors with big sticks.”
Murga’s rough voice grated in the last of the early evening light. Lucifus looked around surprised as Murga pointed the direction. Lucifus floated upwards for greater vantage seeing over the peaks of the range to the valley and mountain beyond. The many flames of light dotting the valley spoke of a large population and daunting proximity. Returning to the two barbarians, he shared his thoughts.

“I need you two to wait here and guard my…tent”, said Lucifus struggling for the appropriate translation. “I intend a short journey but I shall return before the sky completely darkens. If anyone goes near it, kill them.”

Tunthi hefted his axe with a grinning grunt of joyful understanding. Murga nodded but also asked, “Where do you go? Perhaps we should come too?”
“No. I need you both here in case there’s someone stupid enough to stumble upon our camp. Tonight, I will need you both sharp and alert.” Lucifus looked at each of them carefully before adding, “Tonight we will hunt down someone who needs to make our collective acquaintance. Tonight... the Pianathan Shaman dies.”

And with this, Lucifus spoke a word and disappeared upon the instant, traversing back to the site of his old grandee’s cottage, ridiculously hoping that Sarrash was currently entertaining himself elsewhere. And as such with a complete lack of providence Lucifus would appear at his destination. Meanwhile several minutes later outside the stone cottage, as if their fortune could not get any poorer, Tunthi and Murga were ambushed; beset upon all sides by a large force of Pianatha led by the half-giant: Jengus.

However, while this difficult episode ensued, all was not held in abeyance awaiting Lucifus’s return. Elsewhere there were several other forces at play seeking the vicinity of the Pianatha for their own motives and purpose.

***​
_Somewhere beyond Dannikin’s current perception…_

Dannikin sensed his dark surroundings with hazy and distorted perception. The spirit of the witch had stolen his body from him forcing what was left of his mind into darkness. Occasionally, he would attempt to use his body’s senses but upon each occasion, the witch spirit forced him back into oblivion. All he could sense was the horror of darkness pervading his being. In an effort to extract himself, Dannikin attempted once more to use his senses and to his surprise, he was not rebuffed; the witch’s attention currently distracted elsewhere. Dannikin’s body had stopped.

The cold was absolute and bitter, as if the dark place they currently stood in had never felt the warmth of the living. While he could not see in the darkness, he felt the enclosed strictures of a natural cave or tunnel. He presumed they were deep under the earth. His body then started moving once more down the tunnel – the soft staccato sound of rapidly beaten air somewhere nearby. Behind him he could also hear the laboured breathing of something but he dared not try and command his head to turn around. He was fearful of the witch’s wrath and so he waited; closeted in the prison of his own body. The spirit witch – the new warden of his being – then sibilantly spoke.

“I feel you there. Understand I will blast your soul into tiny shards of insanity if you try to resist my will. I allow you some measure of your senses only because it taxes me to keep holding you in abeyance. Rile me and I will destroy your soul for eternity, no matter the detriment to my plans.”

And with these words spoken, she once again persisted her dominion over his body. As Dannikin attuned himself somewhat to this less restricted set of circumstances, certain elements of her thought and will seeped into his own. Malice and hatred, death and revenge spoke loudly, rippling through the live blood of his being. He then caught a momentary glimpse of the man he once knew as Isaac. A welling of pity swelled, slowly intensifying as the glow of some small creature flapping above the man provided scant illumination to the surroundings. Isaac was hunched over, completely afflicted by some manner of deviltry. His shoulder blades had been splayed and his back bent to support the hideous growth that issued from the back of his spine. The occasional accompanying groans spasmodically emphasised the horror of this awful burden. 

Dannikin was allowed no respite, as he looked ahead, the darkness terrible. From the witch’s mood, he could tell that they were near their destination as the tunnel plunged deeply once more. When they had reached what seemed the bottom, she felt the witch bastardise his being once more, casting a foul magic that darkened his soul. Ahead was an opening, the soft glow of something massive beyond. He could now sense the sheer exultation of the spirit witch as his bloated, fat body moved to the boundary. Beyond was a cavern of ancient horror.

The opening they now stood in formed a cleft high above the cavern’s expanse. Below was a dark lake and lying in this lake was the strangest of structures. The cavern’s dark orange glow emanated from the colossal bulk of an obsidian skeleton almost half the size of the subterrane. The skull of the horned creature was attached to a hideous spine spawning a series of ribs the size of a small hillock. What it once had been was pure conjecture. In his mind though unbidden from the witch, Dannikin sensed a word from oldest myth. A Dragon. Here lied the bones of one of the first wyrms of the realms of Urth – one of the high ancients laid here, the subterranean cavern its final resting place and gravesite.

Dannikin could sense the awe of the witch who commanded his body; and then unexpected came an ancient voice to his mind. The bones of the creature must still have held some semblance of being as it intoned in an ancient language completely foreign but with decided menace, “The twilight of death surrounding my bones hath arrived. The witnesses hath begun to assemble; to behold the final annihilation.”

***​
Best Regards
Herremann the Wise


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## Richard Rawen (Oct 10, 2006)

AND !?

You are really getting a penchant for the Cliffhanger device... 

I wandered in at the recommendation of one of the "big guys" sig's...
I am well and truly grateful for that link, this story has been marvelous, a build up of epic proportions. Let me close by simply saying, hands cupped in supplication, "please sir, may I have some more?"


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## Elder-Basilisk (Oct 12, 2006)

With a backstory like this, you have to wonder: how do Lucifus' current activities not seem mundane?


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## Ximix (Nov 9, 2006)

Oh bother! Yet another sh full of promise, twists and turns, genuine character development and of course the abrupt stop mid story.
Hazzard of the boards I guess.
*mopes*


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## jensun (Nov 12, 2006)

Another lurking popping in to say hello.  

An enjoyable read so far, hopefully its not completed dead and buried.  

More please.


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## Richard Rawen (Dec 12, 2006)

*sigh*

bumpage


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## Herremann the Wise (Sep 21, 2007)

Hello Everyone,

I thought I'd just make a quick note that I have begun preparations for future additions to this Story Hour and in particular the completion of events in the wilds of Derman. I'm sure most if not all of you had given up on this story hour but alas, the beast shall not be killed quite yet. I look forward to presenting it once again.

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise


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## Rikandur Azebol (Sep 24, 2007)

I didn't lost hope, my friend.


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