The Ingaran Adventures
Episode 38
“Enter the Drow”

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                  Alexander: The Gauntlet of Athena
                  Zografos: An Ingaran painter going under the name of Domnhall
                  Issic:  Half Human, Half Gold Dragon Warrior
                  India: A gypsy Bard/Shadow Dancer
                  Phaidon:  A local Tamer of the Beasts
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The Time: Summer, Nemed 26-27
The Place:
Alisander A very large city, the largest in all of Inzeladun, Alisander has a population of 120,000 persons.  Although Lamapacher does not have a capital, this city is the definite hub of Lamapacher's commerce and power.  Situated on the shores of the Alisander River, this town has a history that dates back to the Fourth Age.  Founded by King Alisander, a hero of the Fourth Age, it was the capital of the Kingdom of Alisander.   Alisander existed as a separate nation until it was conquered by Lord Komaaks and absorbed into his fledging nation Lamapacher.  The city is currently ruled by Baron Nadam, Champion of Vale.  The city is well known for its cheese.  It also exports manufactured goods, weapons, armor, ancient artifacts looted from the massive dungeons and tunnels that crisscross beneath the city to untold depths.  The city-state extends out 50 miles from the city center in all directions, making Alisander one of the largest states in Lamapacher.  Like much of Lamapacher, slavery is illegal, and many escaped slaves from Drychtnoth and Ingara make their way here. 
 

      After their miraculous resurrection by Alexander, Phaidon was still holding India tightly.  All around them, people were rejoicing.  Phaidon briefly scanned the temple and met Alexander's gaze.  He motioned Alexander over and whispered into his ear.  Alexander just looked at him with those comforting eyes and shook his head.  Phaidon's worst fears had been confirmed, Antaeus and Axylus were no more.  At first, tears welled up in the brave warrior’s eyes and India embraced him to comfort him.  After a few moments he reared up from India's embrace and held her by the shoulders.  India looked into his eyes and no longer saw sadness, but hatred.  The deepest, darkest hatred she had ever seen.  Phaidon smiled slightly at her and without a word stormed out of the temple.  Phaidon ignored all of the happy people who wanted to shake his hand and talk with him and kept going out in the street making a beeline for the palace.  India quickly followed after him.  She followed him for awhile and then walked along side of him, almost having to run to keep up with his large, fast strides.
      She asked, "Where are you going?"
      "To get my equipment."
      "Why?"
      "Because it will help me to kill them all."
      "All of who?"
      "The Illithids.  They have taken my family from me for the last time!"
      "Phaidon, I know you're upset, but going after the illithids on your own is suicidal."
      "Maybe so, I don't care.  I'll take as many of them with me as I can!"
India grabbed his arm and spun him around, "Listen to me!  I know you're hurting, I've been there before. My whole family.  My whole clan.  Anyway, you shouldn't go off all by yourself.  Stay with Alexander and the others and the illithids will fall eventually."  She reached out and held his hands, "Stay with me."
      Phaidon looked at India, tears welling up in his eyes anew.  "I'm sorry, it just hurts so much."
      She hugged him, "I know.  It will be alright, I promise."
      "Alright, but since we're halfway to the palace, let us go get out stuff anyway.  Just in case and then we'll hook back up with the others."


      Lord Nadam, Champion of Vale, trembled with emotion after seeing the dead raisedSuch power, here in Alisander.  He cursed, because he wanted to taste that power, to take that power away.  But he also rejoiced that someone in the world had the ancient skills, the ancient relationship with the gods to do such a thing.
      Lord Nadam watched the sun start to set, turning the sky crimson.  Feeling, renewed strength, such as he often felt at sundown, he ordered his personal guard, dressed in green livery, to escort him back to the palace.  He spoke at length with his aids, Ordiss Ool and General Valdemar, during the trip.  Lord Nadam wanted to reward Issic and Alexander for their miracles and efforts recently.  The destruction of such powerful mind flayers within the palace walls was impressive.  Ordiss Ool reminded Lord Nadam to punish the Captain of the Guard, who failed to keep the mind flayers out of the palace.  General Valdemar, however, disagreed, saying that such powers are beyond the capacity of the guard captains.
      Lord Nadam ordered Ordiss Ool to prepare a celebration for the next day, a celebration to last all day.  Ordiss Ool nodded.


      Issic wanted some rest, some time out of the public eye.  He spread his wings and flew back toward the palace.  Cthaat Angartha watched him fly off.  She shouldered her halberd and continued to walk with the rest of Lord Nadam's personal guard.
      As Cthaat passed a darkened alley, she looked into it.  She locked onto a pair of eyes, a pair of eyes that reached out and grabbed her psyche.  She broke ranks and walked into the ally.  She rested her halberd against the stone wall, and unbuckled her sword-belt, letting it clatter to the wet cobblestones.
      Out of the shadows stepped powerful woman with dark eyes and pale skin.  She was dressed, barely, in wolf furs.  She seemed gentle yet relentless.  Cthaat felt herself drawn into the flowing energy.  Her arms and legs became weak.  She couldn't look away from the woman's gaze which held her motionless.  It occurred to Cthaat that she was looking at Lord Nadam's unknown huntress, the one the people on the streets called Ændryal, shuddering as they said the name.  Despite the hold this woman's gaze had, holding Cthaat more completely than shackles and irons, she felt free and would have laughed if she had the strength to open her mouth.  She sensed rather than felt Ændryal pull her into her arms.  She closed her eyes, her muscles softened under the cold touch of Ændryal's hand on her arm.
      Cthaat Angartha felt a sharpness at her neck, but no panic set in.  Ændryal kissed her then on the forehead, then the neck where the pain had been.  Cthaat clung to Ændryal, sinking deeper into a dream as Ændryal's mouth pressed to the red life that seeped from her.


      India's father walked through the quickly darkening city streets.  The sun had fully set finally.  Larbius Prama was pleased his daughter was alive still.  Disguised in human form, Larbius Prama decided he would help out Alexander as a reward for bringing his daughter back from the land of the dead.  A decidedly evil grin split his face as his scheme unfolded in his mind.  With a wave of his hand, he was dressed in a white toga in Ingaran fashion. 
      Larbius Prama found mortal cities to be fascinating.  Not at all like what one found in Hell.  Nothing like his castle on the Astral Plane, either.  Useful industries kept the people occupied.  Alisander was host to a fishing industry, as well as being a source of trading transportation for taking goods to other cities along this river.  The river also gave rise to grain mills and lumber mills, all powered by the immense river.  The city of Alisander had a far more complex administration than those in Hell, since there were more people to manage, more businesses to oversee, and more officials involved in the government.  Then there were the people, the huddled masses.  Mortals had fewer social classes than Hell.  They had only four discernable ones: lower, middle, upper, and the nobility.  He loved the people.  So interesting.  So willing to negotiate for a better life.  So easy to claim their souls.
      He walked out among the people, and began to speak to them about the power of the gods – the true power of the gods, he claimed.  The people gathered around him to listen.


      On the shadowed wall of the palace sat a silent, unmoving figure.  If his face could have been seen one would have seen the entire range of emotion that is possible for a human to play across his face.  Masked in shadows, his face could not be seen.  But alas, not even the guards that walked the palace wall could see his face or the person even though he could have tapped any of them on the shoulder.  Even though he was in mortal form, Zografos was one with the shadows, watching parts of the city sleep with other parts still active from parties or starting the bustle of preparing food and items to be sold with the coming day.
      It was still long before dawn.  It would soon be the time of day when Zografos' magic was strongest.  Able to destroy stone or burn someone to a crisp it was not.  What use it was to him right now though he didn't know.  He had been thinking like this all night.
      It had begun with anger.  Anger at slipping into the trap so easily, even after thinking it might be one, but forgetting about it because of a fuck.  The sex had been excellent.  That was the good and bad of it.  Bad because it could be a weakness and good because now Zografos knew it was one of his weaknesses and he was able to minimize it now.  He was most angered at seeing the purple spots and then not suspecting something.  Just because he and the others he traveled with knew arcane and dark arts, not everyone did.  Hell, magic was even illegal in Alisander.  This didn't even enter his mind.  This was where the majority of his anger lied.  Not knowing something was wrong and not knowing when to get out.
      The rest of it simmered at his stupidity for underestimating the mindflayers.  The attack on them, by him and the group, seemed surprisingly easy, even though it had almost cost his life.  Now he had a better understanding of his enemy.   A true and solid enemy the mindflayers were now.  Before they had just been a nuisance, an obstacle only because some of the others hated them and wanted them dead.  He had basically been going through the motions, thinking that mindflayers were not very intelligent.  Now Zografos knew better; he truly hated them and wished their extermination. 
      He needed to learn more about them and how to fight them.  Who would know?  Did people write books about mindflayers?  He didn't think Issic or Alexander had any helpful advice.  At least he hoped not or he would have expected them to have already imparted it to the group.  Where to start?
      Alexander had not been attacked last night.  That meant one of two things.  He was a mind switched illithid as India had been or the mindflayers would come after him next, especially after they found out he could raise people from the dead.  The mind-switched illithid idea could be easily dismissed.  If he was, he could have said that our boon to rejoin the living was not granted and left Phaidon, India and himself dead. 
      Alexander had to be protected.  Zografos decided he would take were-rat form and have some of the rats of the castle watch Alexander's room and the rest of the castle.  He would also need to check out the secret passage that was connected to his room.  He would send a rat to Ændryal with a message asking her advice on which option he should take for his estate reward.  He would also ask Jhillim about his estate reward. 
      Then another thought came to Zografos.  He would have the rats of the city look for the purple bubbles that usually signify the mindflayers manifesting their powers.  He would also have to check out the equipment that the mindflayers had.  Perhaps it would provide a clue on how their next attack would come or where they now can be found.
      There is much to do.  Time to stop being angry with yourself, just keep what has happened in mind from now on so that it can never happen again.  Stop whining and sulking, you are starting to act like the damn prince now! Remember what Captain Janus told you: "When you get in a fight you have to fight mean, plum mad dog mean.  Don't lose your head and go crazy, but you have to be willing to do what the enemy can't.  If you fight harder, dirtier and smarter than your enemy then even luck and fate cannot turn the tide of battle."
      With those thoughts, the shadow slipped into Lord Nadam's personal library.


      Back at the palace, Phaidon cradled India in his strong arms.  India traced the line of his mouth with a light finger.  She was thinking about her life.  She regretted a few things she had done recently.  She wondered if the shadow path was the right one for her.  She decided she would start practicing her craft more.  Life was beautiful, she decided, and she didn't want to live it entirely in the shadows.  She let her lashes drift down to her cheeks.  Even with her eyes closed she could tell that he was smiling, despite his emotional hurt.  She smiled back, and felt him lower his mouth to hers.  She opened her eyes.
      There was nothing aggressive about his kiss.  He entered her slowly, his tongue touching hers, circling it, and then lightly flicking against the roof of her mouth.  She reached up and let her fingertips touch his temples, move into the course silk of his hair, like a blind woman relying solely on her sense of touch to discover the face of her lover.  She could feel one arm, solid and hard, under her thighs, the other holding her securely around her waist.  A dreamy warmth spread through her limbs.  She felt like purring, she thought, feeling his mouth come down more firmly on hers.  She felt as if he were stroking her with his tongue.
      He lowered her to the bed and pulled his tunic over his head.  She saw the faded red line that ran along an upper rib.  She would have to think to ask him where he got that scar one day.  Beneath that concealing tunic was nothing but hard muscle.  There was a scattering of fine hair V-ing its way down his chest to his navel, but except for that silky dark arrow his torso looked like a roughly carved slab of wood in the shadowy light.  She let her gaze go lower, to the front of his trousers.
      She sat up on her haunches, her legs tucked under her.  Briskly, she slid the waist of her skirt past her hips, wriggling a little more than she had to but careful to keep her shirttails concealingly in place.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him freeze to stillness as he watched.  Her dress was halfway down her thighs when she leaned forward onto her elbows and lifted her rump into the air.  She looked innocently at him over her shoulder.  She heard him draw in a tight breath, not taking his gaze from her upraised derriere.
      He placed one knee on the bed behind her, bracing his arms on either side of her legs. India felt her skirt moving down to her knees, then coming off completely.
      The next moment she felt his open mouth on the top of her thigh, and hot, immediate pleasure cascaded through her in a liquid rush.  Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, but not soon enough to stifle a small moan.  She felt his tongue trace a wet, slow circle upward, and weakly she closed her eyes, almost unable to bear the swirl of sensations he was stirring in her with every teasing lick of his tongue, every rasp of his unshaven cheek against the tenderness of her inner thighs.  Desperately she clutched the sheet she was lying on, and drew it convulsively toward her, her neck arching back in ecstasy.  She felt him part her legs a little wider, and then his tongue went deeper.
      "Oh, no, Phaidon," her voice was a thread. "Please, Phaidon, it's too much."  His tongue flicked once more against the tautly secret bud between her thighs, and the world dissolved dizzily around her.
      "You taste like a flower."  His own voice was little more than a rasp.  "India, I want more of you.  I want all of you now."
      She was dimly aware of him getting off the bed and stepping out of his pants.  She felt the tiny aftershocks rippling through her and bunched her fist, still clutching its handful of sheet, to her mouth. She lifted herself slightly from the bed and watched Phaidon undress.  Now she could see that the dark V of hair traveled down past his navel, thickening and coarsening into a shadowy tangle at the top of those tautly muscled legs.  Very slowly she brought her palm close enough to brush against the table, and felt it curling against her fingers like fine wire.  She opened her hand and let her fingers push past the rough hair to the shaft that rose from it.
      She closed her hand gently around the solid column, and softly slid her fingers upward.
      A shudder ran through him.  Looking up at his face, she saw his eyes had closed, and the muscles in his neck were thickly corded.
      She let her hand slide downward again, farther this time, and opened her palm to cup the tautness nestled between his legs.  Very carefully, she drew the tip of her finger along the tight fullness there, and heard him exhale with a gasp.
      India shifted over as he lowered himself to the bed, and when he moved toward her, she swung one leg over his and straddled him, kneeling.  He wrapped his hands around the flare of her hips.  His grip firm, he raised her from her haunches to her knees and pulled her closer, until she was poised in position over him.  Slowly he began to lower her, his eyes never leaving her face.  She felt a slight pressure as he began to press against him, and his grip tightened minutely, moving her a little forward.  He continued guiding her downward and she felt herself receiving him.  He was inside her.  She was enveloping him, surrounding him, wrapping around him, and a wave of molten pleasure poured through her, and a tiny tremor ran along her limbs.
      Phaidon released her hips.  His hands spread wide, he slid them upward, past her waist, past her ribcage, finally reaching her breasts and covering them.  Cupping their weight in his palms, his thumbs traced lazy circles around each pink areola as tentatively she began to rock slowly forward along his length.  As she sank back on him again he rose to meet her return, his thrust solid and powerful inside her, and all of a sudden if felt as if her whole body was suffusing with heat.  She moved forward once more, the soft skin of her upper thighs and her rump chafing lightly against the coarse tangle of hair beneath her.  He withdrew slightly, and then filled her again, withdrew and then filled her, his half-closed eyes never leaving her face and those hard hands of his covering her breasts.
      Somewhere deep inside her, liquid fire began to spread.  She let her own lashes drift down as she felt him slide into her and out of her, into her and out again, and blindly she reached out.  She gripped his rigidly muscled arms, and sensed rather than saw him looking at her.
      The room swam dizzily around her.  She saw his eyes lose focus, saw the corded muscles of his neck tighten, felt him plunge deeper into her as he dragged in a shallow breath.  The heat inside her became all-consuming, and she felt herself spiraling into a maelstrom of pure sensations –wanton need, erotic urgency, hot, wet desire.  She couldn’t last any longer, India thought.  His hands had slid down to her hips again.  He pulled her convulsively to him and she felt him move even deeper inside her than before.  Arching her back and moving onto him again she heard herself crying out his name, heard him gasp out hers, and then he was filling her one final, overwhelming time, and it was as if the black world of werewolves and mind flayers behind her dissolved into glittering explosions of heat and light.  Now his arms were around her and her breasts were crushed to his chest, and still the shattering sensations poured through her, like a whole night sky blazing with fire-rain.
      And then she was tumbling through nothingness, falling like a feather back through the velvety night.  She could feel the heavy beat of his heart under her palms, the warmth of his breath against the dampness of her hairline.


      Zografos sat in Nadam’s private library, weak and weary from his anger, and pondered over several quaint and curious volumes of forgotten lore.  From the fireplace each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor as he vainly sought to borrow from the books a reprieve from sorrow.  The silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain chilled him, afraid Lord Nadam would come in upon him.  The books on mind flayers he found here were exquisite.  He poured over the volumes and memorized the information on the monsters he vowed to hunt.
      He found part of a longer document.  It read:
                The malevolent race known as the Mind Flayers can well remember when their world Ith was a glorious paradise, when it's black jungles bloomed wild, when the warm, primordial oceans washed the unspoiled beaches, when the Shrouded sunned themselves atop armor-lichen spires miles high, their razor sharp foreclaws glittering the violet light. All the Illithid race was happy, and lived at peace, served by their thralls (later led by Gith into revolt, becoming Githyanki and Githzerai, who know the secrets of the illithids).
                "That was long ago, and then strange things began to happen to the Mind-Flayer Paradise. The sun of their homeworld became brighter and stronger. The seas became warmer, the foliage greener, and in time, the Illithid were be driven underground. Their home planet soon no longer supported them. Several centuries ago, the grand and glorious Order of the Ilsensine finally seized the initiative from its competitors and gathered almost a thousand Illithid in the great chamber of council. Heads bowed in reverence, the multitudes breathlessly awaited the commands of the great mind. At last the brain pool spoke, and it ordered its children to cast themselves upon the Astral seas, searching for another world, a place where the ecology of Ith could be recreated down to the minutest detail, and the Illithid could once again live in the relative peace of mastery over their thralls. And so it was done, and not long ago, some fortunate Illithid began a hive on a world known to it's inhabitants as "Inzeladun". The planet's measurements seemed exact, slightly larger than Ith even, with a comparable atmosphere and seas that had the potential to support Ith life with some modification. But the sun there was too bright for Illithid existence, forcing the first pioneers to take shelter underground. It was then that they found one of the moons. It was worshiped as a god by the local inhabitants, but the Illithid knew better. The moons of Ith were smaller by far, and completely unsuitable for the purposes that the Illithid had in mind.
                "Tunneling out the centre of the moon, the Illithid plan to create a perfectly circular chamber, and the life force of thousands of living creatures will be necessary to accomplish the goal; move the moon to a position in which it will block the sun's light, and hold it there.
                They plan to find Tenebrion's…

      Zografos sat for some time thinking about this strange document.  Lord Nadam had notated that he received this document from someone named R.U. Pickman.  This Pickman person had several other treatises in the pile. He wondered what artifact of Tenebrion's they sought for.
      After a couple of hours, he flitted out of the room, and headed down the dark corridors of the sleeping palace toward his own room.  He had an appointment with Jhillim and Ændryal.


      Issic sat and talked to Lavinia in the Library of Antiquities.  He had asked what she knew of the Old Ones.  She answered, "Great, ancient beings, from the stars and beyond, prowl Inzeladun-- their nature and motives far beyond anything our feeble minds could hope to fathom. Fragments of the unspeakable darkness float almost by accident to our world. By chance, some hapless mortal stumbles across it and his frail perception of reality is shattered forever."
      "Are we so insignificant that we can do nothing in the face of these unspeakable darknesses?"
      Lavinia laughed. "The ultimate irony of it all is that mankind does in fact make a difference in the universe despite our apparent infinitesimal worth. The Great Old Ones do take notice of humans and tries, and fail, to swat us from existence. Individuals do affect the course of the dark fate within the mocking universe. Men fight against the darkness and win. Great Old One cults are defeated, Mind Flayer outposts are destroyed, and unspeakable summonings are subverted."
      Issic nodded.  "Is there any help out there for us?"
      "In the past, mankind reached out and contacted the Elder Gods. They are a distant, but benevolent collection of entities who oppose the great darkness. They alone stand between our feeble world and the onslaught of unthinkable horrors."
      "What exactly are these 'old ones'?  The books you have let me read here are vague at best."
      "The Old Ones are the demonic pantheon of ultimate, unspeakable darkness, the epitome of chaos and madness, without soul or mind. They twist and wallow in the eternal night, playing horribly mocking sounds with their demonic flutes, and orbit the ultimate nuclear chaos at the center of the universe. The Old Ones have been stripped of reasoning and ordered thought, as we perceive it anyway."
      "What about the mind flayers?  Any relationship between them and the old ones?"
      "The mind flayers are certainly masters of dark technology. They dominate forbidden areas with godlike powers. Revelations in the Nan Curinir tell us that the mind flayers could see into souls, but they are apart from the energy which binds all life together. The mind flayers are in our universe, but forever separated from it. Dark, cold, and ancient, the Old Ones have slept for a thousand years, and are now awakening to renew the war against the Race that trapped them away, and the mind flayers wage that war for them."
      "What do you know of the Narboneans?"
      "The Narboneans were at a time members of a company of beings titled the Old Ones. Because they practiced black magic, or they stole certain of the Elder God's sacred records, or even that they had the temerity to attack the homes of the Elder Gods themselves, the Old Ones were cast out by their brethren and imprisoned in various places in the stars, and even other dimensions. Having done this, the Elder Gods returned to their homes in the planes, leaving the Old Ones within their prisons. There will come a time, though, when the Old Ones will break free of the strictures imposed by the Elder Gods, and they will come forth from their jails to challenge the supremacy of their captors once again. Lineage is going to play an important role in upcoming events, I think."
      "Interesting," said Issic.  He had heard something similar before, and his thoughts returned to Hannah.  Then, unbidden, his mind wondered about Alexander's lineage.


      Ændryal pushed Cthaat Angartha away.  The female warrior slid to the cobblestones of the alley.  Ændryal pulled out a jagged Lamapachan knife to remove the girl's head.  A long, thin, glowing blade was then pressed against Ændryal's neck.  A female voice loaded with alien timbre and monstrous musical tones said, "Leave her for now.  My priestess says you have the answers I seek."
      Ændryal thought to flee, but found she was motionless, unable even to change form.  "What answers have I?" she asked, wondering if Lord Xathurst had finally decided to kill her off for her petty betrayals and worthless schemes to escape him.  Who could sneak up on a vampire?
      "I understand you know the people who slay mind flayers," said the elvish voice, a voice that dripped with venom and hate.
      Ændryal nodded when the glowing point of the thin sword pressed harder into her neck.
      "I want to meet them.  We have something in common."


      In Zografos’ room, Jhillim waited.  Zografos, tired and still upset, finally walked in.  He saw the scout and motioned for him to sit down. He told Jhillim about Lord Nadam’s offer of land.  He asked the scout what he should ask for.  Jhillim sat down and said, "You should ask for the Temple of Ilsensine."
      "Why is that?" asked Zografos.
      "It is fortified already, and it is in town."
      "Good points."
      Zografos saw the shadow of Ændryal on the balcony.  Zografos dismissed Jhillim.  Jhillim left via the secret panel in the wall. Zografos put on his shadow mask and walked to the balcony, making sure his dagger was ready in its wrist sheath. Ændryal stood outside.  She was tall and muscular, dressed in hunting furs.  Her long, black hair poured over her shoulders like a soft waterfall. She had dark eyes and pale skin, plenty of which was displayed by her brief costume.  She had a washboard stomach, and dangerously long legs.
      Ændryal greeted him with a friendly smile.  Zografos nodded a greeting. "I take it you received my message."
      "I have.  I think you should ask for Dalby's old house."
      "And why is that?"
      "It is old, and harbors many shadowy secrets."
      Zografos chuckled.  "More than likely, lethal shadowy secrets."
      "Nothing you can't handle."
      "Do you like the gift of lycanthropy I gave you?"
      "Yes, the form is very useful.  Thank you. I have rats looking around the city for mindflayers now, but you probably already knew that."
      Ændryal didn't, but she liked to maintain airs of infallible knowledge, so, without batting an eye, she answered, "Of course I did."
      "You don't happen to have a library at your residence, do you?"
      "No.  I don't read much."
      "I am curious about afflicted lycanthropes.  Do they change shape at every full moon or are they attune to only one moon?"
      "They attune to one. I can arrange an affliction if you are interested. I can also make you permanently invisible to illithids."
      "The first I am not interested in.  It would be too easy to get the whole town after me if some upset husband cut me with his sword.  I would be interested in the latter though."
      "I just have to make you undead.  They cannot see us. Nor can they sense us psionically.  It really annoys them."
      Zografos made sure he had a good grip on his dagger.  He wondered how he knew where this was going.  He said, "No, I don't think I am interested in that just yet.  There are still plenty of ladies to meet in this city."
      "Ah, but that wouldn't stop you from meeting them."
      Zografos laughed.  "True, but it would keep me from meeting them in the manner I would prefer."
      "Are you interested in learning to fight the illithids?
      "Yes."
      "Then you should meet someone I know.  Will you wait here for my return?"
      "Who is it that you know?" asked Zografos, thinking that if it would help him to better hunt down and kill the damn octoheads, he would wait.  She ignored the question and leaped off the balcony.  She transformed into a bat and flew off.  Zografos felt a twinge of awe.  He hadn't seen that before. 


      The hour was late, but the crowd was loud.  Guards had been sent in to quell the commotion, but were caught up in it instead.  A powerful leader had risen from the people, a leader that proclaimed Athena to be the true protector of Alisander, a leader that proclaimed that all other temples were anathema to their goddess, a leader that proclaimed a religious revolt.
      Claiming to be a follower, a disciple of Alexander, this leader captured the hearts and minds of the people.  He led them to the great temple of Olanigan.  No one questioned where the weapons came from, no one questioned the will of this charismatic leader, no one questioned the righteousness of the movement.  In masse, they ran through the temple and put the priests and worshipers to the sword.  The blood ran like a river over the floors of the temple to the God of War.
      As he listened to the cries and screams of the vanquished, the leader, Larbius Prama, held up his arms in diabolic triumph.  Doing good felt fantastic, and Larbius Prama, a devil among men, intended to make sure Athena was the only deity worshipped in Alisander.  He would force men and women and children to accept her as their patron and protector.  And Alexander would see him as having a changed heart, and his daughter would be proud.  Larbius Prama laughed sardonically as he watched the wholesale slaughter.  He was surprised that there was so much power to be had on the side of good.  Schemes for a holy crusade raced through his unholy mind and his eyes glittered with renewed passion.


      An hour and a half after she left, the vampire had returned to Zografos' balcony, asking to be let in.  Zografos did not invite her in.  He walked out onto the balcony with the undead savage. Ændryal stepped aside when Zografos came out, and he saw a gorgeous, short elven beauty with the characteristic slanted eyes, black skin, and long, long white hair.
      She stood only four and a half feet in height, but Zografos could sense the power held by the dark elf. She was no soft palace girl, but had a hard face, one that had seen and lived with death on a daily basis.  She was elemental, a living hurricane of hate that seethed beneath her iron willed self-control.  He could see that hate plainly in her eyes. Zografos made sure he had a good grip on his dagger.  She wore black silk armor, and a long rapier hung low on her hips.  Zografos thought this scene would make a good painting, which led him to think he should run now.  But he did not. He nodded and said, "Hello."
      "I am Cerlyn Ilphu."  Her voice was confident, beautiful, and menacing, all at once.  He felt as if she had already envisioned his death, figured out multiple ways he could be killed, and none of those were quick deaths.  Although he had never before met a dark elf, and knew little of them, he could sense that she was the sort that preferred to play with her prey, making them break before she gave them the dubious solace of death.
      "I am Domnhall."
      She smiled, and her deathly cold eyes seemed to draw him in. "Well met, Domnhall.  Together we are meat for Lolth.  Shall we dare to draw her attention while destroying the illithids?"
      "Drawing her attention, or Hades' for that matter, I would not like.  But, to give them illithid souls would be most delightful."
      "Good.  May we go inside, or shall we hang out here where I can be seen?  I cannot hide as our mutual friend can."
      Zografos stepped aside and motioned for them to enter. Cerlyn walked in without hesitation.   She knew there were no traps, no ambushes here.  Only cowards resorted to such contrivances, and she could see at a glance that this Domnhall was no coward. Ændryal paused, however.  "Are you sure?" she asked.  She longed to be invited within the palace walls, but she didn't want to seen as having taken advantage of Zografos.  He had grown much too powerful for that. She hated that she now feared Zografos and his friends.
      Zografos thought better of his invitation. Actually, he had forgotten she was there.  The drow had captivated his attention, completely overpowered and outshone the vampire.  "No.  I am sure the dark lady is enough for me to handle singly.  Two of you draws Hades' eye to me once again." Ændryal grinned evilly and transformed to a bat again, and flew off.
      In Zografos' room, Cerlyn sat down on one of the stuffed chairs, looking around.  Zografos mentally kept himself on his toes.  He was very concerned.  What if this were another trap?  What if dark elves worked with mind flayers?
      Cerlyn seemed to read his mind, his very soul.  Her dark eyes with their strange slant haunted his vision, drew his gaze.  She said, "So you want to slay mind flayers, right?"
      "Of course."  He noted she had an exotic accent, one that was elvish, yet not.
      "Good.  Otherwise I would have to hunt that vampire bitch down and slay her.  Which I should have done anyway."
      "Good luck with that," said Zografos.  He doubted her boast.  Ændryal was pretty powerful. "How did you come to know Ændryal?"
      "She tried to suck my blood, the bitch," lied Cerlyn.  "I kicked her ass, and told her that she would serve me or I would cut out her heart and sacrifice it to Lolth."
      Zografos thought he definitely loved and feared this woman at the same time. She leaned back and gave Zografos a long, appraising look. "Are you interested in joining my team, or are you wanting personal training to take on your own?"
      "Who or what is on your team?"
      Her eyes narrowed with acute suspicion.  She tried to figure out if Zografos was just pumping her for information or if the information would really make a difference toward you choice.
      "No offense, but if your team is only made up of drow females I would expect to not live very long with both the illithids and the team."
      She tensed slightly, but she answered, "We have a crack team of hunters.  Elite killers for Lolth.  But we lost our own shadow master.  Ændryal says you have some talent in that area.  Thus my interest in you."
      Zografos thought that at least he knew why she hadn't killed him yet. "What would my role of shadow master entail?"
      "If that information is false, please let me know.  If you do have mastery of shadows, then I would appreciate it if you helped us as a scout.  Our last one could turn into a shadow raven.  I trust this is not beyond you?"
      Zografos took shadow form and returned to his normal form. "In that form, I can still cast spells if the need arises," he said.
      She nodded. " Excellent. To pay you, I have a book of spells from our last Penumbral Lord. Also, if you join, we will give you a magical cloak.  She called it a 'Cloak of Whispers'."
      Zografos thought that this was better than gold, too bad he couldn't trust them as much as Ændryal, whom he trusted very little.
      The drow continued. "Of course, if all you want from me is individual training, then I keep my offers, and you have to pay me."
      Zografos asked Sjachrenthisj, the shadow dragon, in shadow speak, what she thought and whether she would come along.  He whispered it so that the drow would think he was talking to himself debating about joining. The shadow dragon answered, "I will follow where you lead, Domnhall."
      The drow, who had sharper hearing than any human or dragon, looked around for the hidden shadow-dragon.  She couldn't understand the words, but she definitely heard two distinct voices.  Zografos turned back to her and recaptured her attention.  "If I join your team, I take it that it is only for a set period of time or is this a permanent position?"
      "Do you want to live forever?" she answered.
      "Why not ask the vampiress to join your team?"
      "Because she is the slave to another, and I would not want Lord Xathurst of Drychtnoth aware of me.  Attracting Lolth's attention with my successes is risk enough."  Zografos could see her mind at work.  She said, "Perhaps having you slay that undead bitch would be a good test of your skills."
      "I could not attack the vampiress without being provoked.  She has paid me as you offer to."
      "Good.  Then I know you will not kill us after you are paid."
      Zografos thought Xathurst would have to wait until he had his blood lust of the flayers sated. "I accept your payment."
      "Very well.  Are you able to leave now, or do you need to make arrangements?"
      "I will need a day to make arrangements."
      From a pouch at her thin, waspish waist, she pulled out a sack.  From the sack she pulled out a huge, shadowy tome with a black, iron lock. Then she pulled out a dark cloak from the sack. She set them on the table next to her chair. "Very well."  she stood up fluidly, in a quick, lithe motion. "I will see you when the sun sets."
      Zografos nodded, wanting to rush to the tome, but waiting until the lady left and until he was certain she wouldn't attack him, just to test him.  She walked confidently to the balcony and climbed to the edge.  Taking hold of the stones of the wall, she crawled down, her arms and legs clinging to the wall like some sort of horrible four legged spider.


      Khasmaphet had recovered enough to get out of bed.  The young Khemian girl wondered who had poisoned her.  A slim naked girl with dark straight hair, dusky skin, and large, albeit blind, eyes, Khasmaphet walked around the table by her bed, trying to pick up psychic residue.  Trained in Khemt by Pharaoh Kherit, she was a powerful psychic.  She picked up the glass of water she had drank the poison from and held it against her chest between the small yet jutting breasts.
      As she sensed the vibrations of psychic energies that emanated from the glass, her expression nor her dreamy yet concentrated blind gaze change for several minutes.  Then her lips parted a little in disappointment.
      Despite her blindness, she knew it was night outside, and that she should rest. She needed to speak to Lord Nadam, needed to return to Itsitlawikanah. She decided both could wait until morning.  She climbed back into her bed after lighting some soothing incense.


      Zografos summoned Alderni Whatley, his maid, to him.  He gave her the rest of his money, approximately 350 gold.  He told her she was to use the gold to spruce up Dalby’s mansion, and to help out the six prostitutes if they agreed to work for him.
      The maid said, "Thank you! Is there any way I can repay you?"
      Zografos smiled mischievously. The maid said, "I will do anything."
      "Undress for me, slowly."
      "My skirt or my blouse first?"
      "Blouse."
      She undid the lacings on her blouse and slowly opened it up, revealing her soft rounded breasts. She smiled, blushed, and took off the blouse entirely. She untied her skirt and pushed it down over her hips, turning around so her ass was revealed as she stepped out, hiding her crotch from view.
      Alderni looked at Zografos from over her shoulder.  She turned around, her hands covering her pubic area now. She sat down and crossed her legs, so Zografos still couldn’t see between her legs.  She started caressing her breasts as Zografos quickly undressed.
      She licked a finger and sent it between her crossed legs, rubbing herself with that finger, still hiding the view from Zografos. She rolled her head back, the other hand still toying with her nipples.
      "Stand and put your hands on the bed," he commanded.  She stood up at his command, but still hid her crotch.  She walked to the bed, and, when Zografos was behind her, she put her hands on the bed.  Leaning over, she slowly opened her stance so he could see her nether regions very clearly.  Zografos placed himself behind her and rubbed his erection over her slick wetness while he massaged her breasts.  She moaned, and tried to push back, to slide him within her.
      She looked back over her shoulder and she whispered, "Lick me, and I will do anything or anyone you ask."  Zografos pulled up a bench and had her lay down on it, on her back.  He bound her hands behind her and around the bench, her legs straddling it.  He went down on her.  She moaned and pushed back, trying to push herself against his lips.
      After so long the throbbing in his groin became too much and with her still bound he lifted her legs up and entered her. She cried out and thrust up with an unquenchable fury, as fast as she could. Zografos tried to hold out as long as possible, but the feel of her sweet insides mixed with her screaming caused him to explode.
      Moving up, he straddled her face and mouth.  She sucked him as hard and fast as she could, until he became adequately hard again. Zografos once again move down and pushed her legs up, but this time he placed his penis head at the mouth to her anus.  "You would do anything?"
      "Anything," she whispered, scrunching her nose in a cute manner.  "Do what you want."
      Zografos smiled, and did just that.


      People ran in terror from the shadowed temple of forbidden Tenebrion, but the maddened mob of crusading Athenians caught them and put them to quick deaths under the watchful eye of Larbius Prama.  This temple, hidden beneath the streets of Alisander, part of the underground labyrinths that honeycomb beneath the city, was a rare find.  But since Tenebrion invaded on Hecate's turf, Tenebrion's temple needed to be vanquished. As Larbius Prama walked along the subterranean halls of shadow and stone, he investigated the rooms he passed, one by one. At one point, one of Prama's appointed "lieutenants" ran up and whispered in his ear.
      "Really?" said Larbius Prama. "Say you truly?  Dragons?"
      "Aye," said the man, his eyes wide.  "Shadowy, black ones."
      "This I have to see."  


      Palace guards talked quickly to Lord Nadam’s ranking informants and counselors about the violence tearing through the religious sectors of the city.  Ordiss Ool promised to inform Lord Nadam.  As the counselors returned to their beds, Ordiss Ool smiled coldly.  He didn’t know what was going on in the city, but he had no intention to tell Lord Nadam of the uprisings.  Besides, religion was a waste of time.  Ordiss knew two “gods”, and both of them were nothing more than extremely powerful mortals.  Let the gods tend to their own temples.
      Ordiss Ool slipped silently into Lord Nadam's sleeping quarters.  He walked, silent as a ghost, to stand next to Nadam's bed.  Times such as these were the best for manipulating the old Lord's thoughts.  Tomorrow, Lord Nadam would act in a manner most strange and perplexing.  Ordiss Ool did not even have to fight down a chuckle at the thought.  He was so cold and so focused, laughter had become alien to him.
      After slipping out of Lord Nadam's chambers, Ordiss Ool went to his suite.  He donned his black robes spun out of shadows and pulled out his collections of poisons.  He started concocting one that even Alexander couldn't cure, one that would resist divine magic.  Khasmaphet needed to die, and Ordiss Ool decided she would die soon.


      The sun came up the following morning, and Lord Nadam rose from his rest.  He had some strange dreams, portents that Issic and Alexander were under the influence of fiends, and would assassinate him this morning at the ceremonies he had planned.  He pondered on this as he dressed.  He saw his old Angustian sword hanging on the wall.  Perhaps he should arm himself this morning, beat them to the punch.  He took down the sword and strapped it on around his waist.  It felt good to wear it again.  It had been many years since he had bore its weight.  Yes, he would wear his sword to court today.


      The crowd cheered as the temple of the false god, Kalendor Hob, went up in smoke.  Kalendor's religion would be replaced by Apollo's temple, of course. Flame enveloped it, and people cried out to Athena to head their offering, the offering of a temple dedicated to a false pantheon.
      Larbius Prama watched the temple burn.  He had summoned his favorite cohort, Sharyss, to move among the crowd and bring anyone opposed to his movement into the fold.  Those dragons, however, were on his mind, distracting him from seeing a pair of youthful Athenians who were watching the carnage.  They eventually backed away and decided to go back to their temple to report to the High Priest, and maybe to get a message to Lord Alexander.
      Podaleirus and Acetes ran through the side streets toward their temple.  En route, Acetes spotted a soldier laying in a gutter in a dirty alley.  The youthful girl told Podaleirus to stop.
      "Who is it?" asked Podaleirus.  He stooped next to the female warrior in scale mail and wearing green livery.  He found no evidence of weapons.
      "I think she belongs to Lord Nadam's personal guard," said Acetes.  She felt for a pulse.  She almost went into a panic when she felt nothing, but she didn't give up, and realized the pulse was there, but horribly faint.  "Look," she said, tilting the woman's head to show the blood that had clotted around her neck and shoulder.
      "Do we take her to the temple?" asked Podaleirus.
      "Yes," said Acetes.  Together, the youths picked up Cthaat Angartha, and dragged her toward their temple.


      Lord Nadam saw the arrangements and was pleased.  He sent for Alexander, Issic, Phaidon, India, and Zografos.  Ordiss Ool suggested that the Drychtnothian priest should also be summoned.  Lord Nadam didn't feel it was appropriate to summon the priest, so, instead of a summons, he sent an invitation to Anathek Dar.


      After receiving the summons from Lord Nadam, Phaidon headed to his room to put on his gear. He paused at the door and turned to look at India.  He just stood there, drinking in her beauty with his eyes, watching her get dressed.
      "India..."
      "Yes, Phaidon?"
      "
I love you."

     
      Lord Alexander led his group through the marbled halls of the palace.  Lord Issic followed close at the Ingaran's heels, followed by Lord Phaidon and Lady India, hand in hand.  Zografos, Lord Domnhall, his shadow dragon coiled beneath his new cloak, trailed behind the others.
      The pages opened the vast valves of the main audience chamber doors and announced that the Champions of Athena were in attendance.  The crowd of nobles watched as Alexander and Issic led the group into the room.  They noted the long tables of food that flanked the room on all sides, and the vast number of people in attendance.  Lord Nadam's royal guards were dressed in purple livery, a color they had never worn so far as Alexander could remember. Issic noticed that Cthaat Angartha was not in attendance.
      When they reached the half-way point in the room, Lord Nadam stood up from his throne.  Ordiss Ool slithered around the throne to stand at Nadam's left.
      Alexander and Issic stopped at the base of the small flight of steps that went to the throne.  Lord Nadam glanced at Ordiss Ool.  Ordiss Ool, in turn, his cold eyes almost vacant, nodded to the guards that surrounded the room.  As one, each of the royal guards drew their swords with their right hands, their left holding their halberds.
      Lord Nadam drew his ancient sword and walked down the steps toward the Champions.

Current Adventures in Inzeladun | Ingaran Adventures 37 - Assassination and Resurrection | Here are the maps of the travels of the Ingaran Adventures | Inzeladun Updates | About Vincent N. Darlage 

This was written by Vincent N. Darlage, Donald Sutcliffe, and Chris Bradley.



Ændryal, Female Vampire, Barbarian 10: CR 12, medium undead; HD 10d12; hp 117; Initiative: +8 (+4 Dex, +4 Imp. Init.); Spd 40 ft; AC 20 (flatfooted 16, touch 14); Attack +17/+12 (1d6+6 slam) or +13/+12 (1d8+6 composite longbow); Rage 3/day, uncanny dodge (AC, no flank, +1 vs. traps), Domination, Energy Drain, Blood Drain, Children of the Night, Create Spawn, Damage Reduction 15/+1, Turn Resistance, Gaseous Form, Spider Climb, Alternate Form, Fast Healing, Undead; AL CE; SV Fort +7, Ref +9, Will +6; Str 23, Dex 18, Con -, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 16.
            Skills: Bluff +11, Climb +13, Hide +12, Jump+13, Listen +22, Move Silently +12, Search +9, Sense Motive +11, Spot +11, Wilderness Lore +14
            Feats: Weapon Focus (Longbow), Dodge, Track, Blindfight, Improved Critical (Longbow), Alertness, Combat Reflexes, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes

Larbius Prama the Gelugon, Sorcerer 16: CR 25, large outsider; HD 17d8+16d4+165; hp 312; Initiative +1, Spd 40 ft; AC 28 (flatfooted 27, touch 10); Attack +28/+18/+13 (1d8+12[+2d6 vs. good] Longspear of Frost), and +20 (2d4+3 bite) and +20 (3d4+3 + cold tail); Reach 15 ft; Spell like abilities, fear aura, cold, summon Baatezu, damage reduction 20/+2, SR 25, Baatezu qualities, regeneration 5; AL LE; Fort +18, Ref +14, Will +24; Str 23, Dex 13, Con 21, Int 22, Wis 22, Cha 21
            Skills: Alchemy +25, Bluff +17, Climb +20, Concentration +39, Disguise +18, Jump +19, Knowledge (Arcana) +39, Knowledge (Religion) +20, Listen +22, Move Silently +16, Search +20, Sense Motive +29, Spellcraft +35, Spot +22, Scry +11
            Feats: Alertness, Cleave, Dodge, Power Attack, Empower Spell, Silent Spell, Improved Critical (Longspear), Leadership, Maximize Spell, Combat Casting
            Equipment: +3 longspear of frost

Cerlyn Ilphu, Female drow Rog7/Assassin10: CR 18; ECL 19; Medium-size Humanoid (elf); HD 17d6+34; hp 93; Init +10; Spd 30 ft; AC 19 (+6 Dex, +5 Armor); Melee rapier +20/15/10 (1d6+3/crit 18-20), or dagger +16/11/6 (1d4+2/crit 19-20); Ranged dagger +18 (1d4/crit 19-20); SA death attack, sneak attack, spell-like abilities, spells; SQ +2 Will save vs. spells or spell-like abilities, +5 save vs. poison, darkvision 120 ft, evasion, light blindness, poison use, SR 28, uncanny dodge; AL NE; SV Fort +7, Ref +18, Will +10; Str 15, Dex 22, Con 15, Int 17, Wis 18, Cha 15.
            Skills: Balance +26, Move Silently +26, Hide +36, Read Lips +9, Bluff +22, Disguise +16, Escape Artist +26, Intimidate +12, Jump +12, Open Locks +16, Spot +24, Tumble +16 (doesn’t include -1 armor check penalty)
            Feats: Improved Initiative, Expertise (Rapier), Quick Draw, Dodge, Mobility, Improved Critical.
            SA–Death Attack: If Cerlyn Ilphu makes a successful sneak attack after observing the victim for 3 rounds, the victim is killed or paralyzed for 1d6+10 rounds (Fort negates DC 23).
            SA–Sneak Attack (Ex): Cerlyn Ilphu deals +9d6 damage against an opponent with a discernable anatomy who is denied a Dex bonus or is flanked.
            SQ–Uncanny Dodge: Dex bonus to AC, can't be flanked, +3 vs. traps.
            Assassin Spells Prepared (-/3/3/3/1):
            Equipment: +2 Keen Undead Bane Rapier, +2 Keen Aberration Bane Dagger, +2 Silk Shadow Armor, Z’henra’s tools (torture kit), 5 doses of Chiff, 7 doses of Medusa poison.


Lavinia, Librarian of Antiquities, Female Human Expert 20: CR 19, medium humanoid (5' tall); HD 20d6-40+3; hp 33; initiative: - 1 (Dex); Spd 20 ft.; AC 9 (flatfooted 9, touch 9); Attack +12/+7/+2 (1d3-3 unarmed strike); AL LN; SV Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +19; Str 4, Dex 8, Con 4, Int 26, Wis 20, Cha 16.
      Skills: Appraise +31, Decipher Script +33, Gather Information +29, Profession (Librarian) +28, Knowledge (Arcana) +33, Knowledge (Religion) +31, Knowledge (History) +35, Knowledge (Folk Legends) +31, Search +31, Spellcraft +33, Listen +16, Move Silently +10, Intimidate +14, Knowledge (Astrology) +19, Knowledge (Geography) +19.
      Feats: Iron Will, Toughness, Blood of the Old Ones, Philosopher And Historian, Skill Focus (Knowledge [history]), Skill Focus (Knowledge [Arcana]), Skill Focus (Decipher Script),  Skill Focus (Gather Information).
      Notes:  She is one of two 20th level experts in the city of Alisander.  She is 108 years old.


Sjachrenthisj, Young Female Shadow Dragon: CR 5, small dragon; HD 10d12+10; hp 75; Initiative: +4 (Imp. Init.); Spd 80 ft, fly 150 ft. (average); AC 24 (flatfooted 24, touch 11); Attack +12 (1d6+1 bite) and +7/+7 (1d4 claw/claw) or Breath Weapon (20 ft. Cone, 1 negative level, DC 18); SR 15; Special Qualities: Energy drain immunity, Shadow Blend; AL CE; SV Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +10; Str 13, Dex 10, Con 13, Int 16, Wis 16, Cha 17.
            Skills: Listen +13, Spot +13, Search +13, Bluff +13, Appraise +13, Knowledge (Arcana) +13, Concentration +11, Diplomacy +8, Escape Artist +5, Scry +13
            Feats: Flyby Attack, Hover, Improved Initiative

Cthaat Angartha, the female human guard who was attacked by Ændryal, Warrior 1: CR -; medium humanoid (5'2"); HD 1d8+4+3; hp 12; Initiative: +4 (Improved Initiative); Spd 30 ft; AC 14 (flatfooted 14, touch 10); Attack +3 (1d8+2 longsword or 1d10+2 halberd); AL NG; SV Fort +6, Ref +0, Will +0; Str 15, Dex 11, Con 18, Int 10, Wis 11, Cha 13
            Skills: Sense Motive +2, Intimidate +5, Jump +2
            Feats: Improved Initiative, Endurance
            Equipment: Scale mail, Halberd, Longsword

Khasmaphet, Female Human Seer 9: CR 9, medium humanoid; HD 9d4+18; hp 40; Initiative: +1 (Dex); Spd 30; AC 11 (flatfooted 10, touch 11); Attack +5 (1d4+2 Jambiya); AL LG; SV Fort +6, Ref +5, Will +12; Str 12, Dex 12, Con 15, Int 15, Wis 20; Cha 14.
            Skills: Concentration +14, Gather Information +14, Intuit Direction +16, Knowledge (psionics) +7, Listen +16, Psicraft +14, Remote View +14, Sense Motive +11
            Feats: Mental Adversary, Extend Power, Persistent Power, Psionic Focus, Disarm Mind
            Equipment: Jambiya, Psionic Tattoo (body adjustment), Power Stone (Astral Construct IV), Cloak of Resistance +1, crystal capacitor [3], crystal mask of mind armor
            Psicrystal: Observant
            Psionic Combat Modes: ego whip, empty mind, intellect fortress, mind thrust, thought shield, metal barrier, psychic crush, mind blast, id insinuation.
            Psionics: 61 points per day. Powers Known: Detect Psionics, Inkling, Know Direction, Daze, Missive, Distract, Know Location, Object Reading, Identify, Combat Precognition, Sensitivity to Psychic Impressions, Detect Thoughts, Clairaudiance/Clairvoyance, Remote Viewing, Undead Sense, White Fire, Divination, Anchored Navigation.
            Notes: Khasmaphet is a Khemian, and is totally blind, unable to see except through the use of psionics or magic.

Acetes, Psion 3: CR 3; medium humanoid (5'10"); HD 3d4+3; hp 12; Initiative: +2; Spd 30 ft; AC 12 (flatfooted 10, touch 12); Attack +0 (1d8-1 short spear); Special: Psicrystal (sympathetic); AL NG; SV Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +5; Str 8, Dex 14, Con 13, Int 12 Wis 15, Cha 15
            Skills: Psicraft +6, Concentration +7, Sense Motive +9, Diplomacy +8, Knowledge (religion) +7
            Feats: Inertial Armor, Inner Strength, Combat Manifestation
            Psionics: 9 power points per day, empty mind, id insinuation, mind thrust, thought shield, tower of iron will, mental barrier.  Detect Psionics, Missive, Daze, Charm Person, Attraction, Empathy

Podaleirus, Psion 4: CR 4; medium humanoid (6'0"); HD 4d4+8; hp 19; Initiative: +2; Spd 30 ft; AC 12 (flatfooted 10, touch 12); Attack +2 (1d8+1 short spear); Special: Psicrystal (sympathetic); AL NG; SV Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +6; Str 12, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 16
            Skills: Psicraft +7, Concentration +9, Sense Motive +10, Diplomacy +9, Knowledge (religion) +7
            Feats: Inertial Armor, Inner Strength, Skill Focus (Knowledge)
            Psionics: 12 power points per day, empty mind, id insinuation, mind thrust, thought shield, tower of iron will, mental barrier.  Detect Psionics, Missive, Daze, Charm Person, Attraction, Empathy, Combat Precognition, Lesser Domination