Quote:
Originally Posted by carborundum  If I say it I might believe it...
It's a raisin, I can swallow it,
It's a raisin, I can swallow it,
It's a raisin, I can swallow it,
It's a raisin, I can swallow it... |
Hey, that's what the daelkyr said to Nameless!
And here is an extra-long update:
* * * * * * * * * *
As the Guardian Angels step through the portal, each of them feels an excruciating sensation, a paradoxical combination of tearing and compression, as if their bodies were being pulled apart and reconstituted instantly. Luckily, the feeling ends in an instant, and they find themselves standing on solid ground. Beneath their feet is what looks like granite, shot through with dark greenish-purple veins, extending some fifty feet around them. And then it ends abruptly in nothingness.
For a moment, the Angels see only darkness beyond, but then their eyes adjust and they realize what fills the area around them. It seems at first to be an endless void, but it is full of movement – and what might be life. Large, wispy clouds of a nauseating pinkish-brown color float by, either twenty feet away or a thousand – it is hard to say. A collection of forms float through the clouds, changing as they do so, switching swiftly through various shapes the Angels know and recognize – a raven, a swordfish, a dog, a swan. As each of the things changes to a particular form, so do all the others to resemble it, and then one morphs to a new shape, which the others follow. Until they all flow together to form what looks like a gigantic cuttlefish with the head of a flaming bird, which slowly swims away, leaving blue bubbles in its wake.
Some incalculable distance to the group’s left, what seems to be a thin translucent curtain hangs in the air, moving gently back and forth as it stretches away. Another curtain meets and seemingly passes through it some distance on, and a pair of them some distance beyond. A stream of purple rain streams upwards between two of the curtains, before it seems to hit an invisible barrier and flow sideways in all four directions, passing through multiple of the curtains. One set of drops fall into what looks like a small lake that hangs placidly in mid-air, the only movement in it caused by the stream of droplets and the large purplish-gray tentacle that sometimes breaks the surface. It’s hard to make out at this distance, but it seems to be slightly larger than the Gray House.
Warforged and shifter, paladin and Gatekeeper – all of them feel their minds reel at the combination of sights, unable to fully comprehend or even conceptualize what they see. Only their
mind blank spells keep them sane, but for a moment each feels a sense of dizziness and severe dislocation. In fact, as they look down, each sees their feet floating off the ground beneath, as they begin to drift slowly through the syrupy, thick air and away from their present location.
“Concentrate!” snaps a harsh voice, and they turn quickly to see Nameless, feet set firmly on the ground. Behind him is the portal, which looks exactly the same here except that it is framed by what seems to be a large stony arch, albeit one which seems to be alternately expanding and contracting.
“Concentrate,” Nameless repeats as he steps forward, “And you can keep your footing. Gravity and directions such as up or down are meaningless here. Will yourself to stay someplace or move towards something and you will.” He hesitates. “Probably. Now get down here!”
“Xoriat makes you bossy, you know,” grumbles Luna, but she follows his advice and quickly floats back down onto the stone floor. “Cool!” The druid looks around and then shakes her head. “And weird. And … kinda purple, I admit, though I can think of some other words.”
“I’m sure,” rasps Nameless, looking up at the portal. He lifts his tentacle and points at a particularly dark spot at the apex of the arch. “That would be the, for lack of a better word, keystone of this portal. If we destroy it, the portal should collapse in on itself.”
“Then let’s do it,” says Gareth, looking around warily and ignoring the faint moaning that emanates from the Endless Blade in his hands. “And leave. I don’t see anyone nearby, but that doesn’t me…”
At which point, the ground around him ripples soundlessly and large stony jaws emerge to snap painfully shut around the paladin’s leg. The owner of the jaws emerges, simultaneously shoving the still
enlarged form of Gareth backwards and hoisting him into the air. It is an ovoid shape, nearly six feet tall and broad, seemingly made of the same stone as the floor of the area around the portal. Half a dozen stumpy limbs – part-arm and part-leg, each tipped with a scythe-like blade – support its form, while dozens of reptilian yellow eyes flow across the surface of its body.*
Gareth is not the only one assaulted, as each of the Angels is attacked by one such creature. Luna, the only one too large to be seized by the jaws, has two assail her, biting and clawing with surprising effectiveness into her magically thickened hide.
“Take them down!” Nameless rasps, gritting his teeth against the pain of the stony jaws grinding into his flesh. “I’ll deal with the portal.”
Gareth and Six lay about them with mighty blows, but quickly discover that the stony flesh of the creatures are resistant to their weapons. But even the unnatural aberrations cannot fully resist the weapons, magically enhanced and more than twice as large as usual due to their owners’ spells. Stony flesh cracks and tears, and grayish-green fluid sprays across the strange battlefield.
Korm shouts, “Luna – follow my lead!” The Gatekeeper is held securely within the jaws of his larger attacker, but his arms are free. He concentrates to resist the pain and then casts, causing his attacker and most of the others to stagger as his
horrid wilting painfully drains water from their bodies. A couple of the creatures remain unaffected, their innate resistance to magic foiling his spell. But, a second later, Luna does follow suit, leaving every one of them damaged.
The pained response, however, is nothing compared to the way they react as a green beam of energy leaps from Nameless’ hand, the especially widened
disintegrate striking the keystone perfectly. Part of it disappears while a network of fractures spreads across the remainder. The faint cracking sound is drowned out by the simultaneously panicked and angry rumbles – the first sound they have made – from the stony guardians. Each one promptly forgets its target and rushes the alienist. Six’s huge chain cracks out, scything through one’s myriad limbs and knocking it to the ground, and Luna throws her bulk on another, savaging it fiercely as it comes crashing down. But the other four throw themselves on Nameless, hiding him from sight under a flurry of flailing limbs and snapping jaws.
“Sh*t!” Gareth throws himself at the melee, hacking and slashing wildly, only an instant before Korm casts another
horrid wilting. The creatures again convulse under the magical assault, one of them collapsing slowly backwards, followed moments later by another, cut in half by the paladin’s blade.
As they fall, they reveal Nameless, bloodied and battered but still standing, even though the two remaining attackers have their jaws fastened to him. The alienist gives his companions a ghastly smile and then casts again, ignoring his attackers. Another
disintegrate shoots forth and strikes the keystone, vaporizing its remnants.
Instantly, the arch falls apart, crumbling to nothingness in a couple of moments. As it does so, the portal shimmers, turning transparent for a split second, revealing the curious expression of Rhashaak on the other side. And then it folds in on itself, winking out of existence. The ground under the Angels shudders and begins to fall apart too, as do the bodies of their erstwhile enemies, whether slain or still seemingly alive. And somewhere far in the distance, there is an angry roar.
“Quick!” Nameless snaps, floating easily towards the others. “Everyone grab hold! Gareth – we go now!”
“Understood,” says the paladin, and as soon as everyone is in contact, he casts a spell. The world blinks out around the Angels as Gareth’s
plane shift takes effect, followed by the customary sense of spatial and internal dislocation which accompanies such magic.
And then they find themselves standing in a forest clearing, the thick trees of an equatorial jungle stretching around them. Locating where they are is easy enough, since the sides of an extinct volcano extend above the trees to their north, the cliffs bearing the very distinctive ruined buildings of a giant city.
Gareth grins as he sees Haka’torvhak, barely five miles from them, and blows on his fingers. “Do I have good aim or what?”
* * * * *
When the Guardian Angels return to Haka’torvhak, they are met by a small horde of the blackscale lizardfolk, who have evidently all been warned of the strangers’ advent. They escort the group back to the altar in front of which they first arrived, while one fetches the old lizardman Huu’rak. He seems a little surprised at the speed of their return, but simply thanks them for returning and leads them down into the tunnels under the city again.
This time, Huu’rak leads the group in a different direction. After traveling a short distance, passing many turnings and other tunnel openings, he climbs up a set of stairs. At the top is a small antechamber which opens into a huge chamber. This was evidently once a palatial hall, with large windows and multiple levels, but it is desolate now and partly-ruined, most of it wreathed in deep shadow.
At one end of the hall is a huge, roughly curved stone seat built for a non-humanoid creature, and crouched upon it is the gargantuan form of
Rhashaak. The mad wyrm grins, a little drool running from its fangs, its red eyes gleaming in the shadows. “You may leave, Huu’rak,” he says, and the lizardman bows and quickly departs.
Once he is gone, the dragon says, “You have returned quickly, and clearly you were successful. Thank you. You have upheld your part of the bargain. Now what do you wish from me?”
“As we told you,” Nameless replies, “We are going to be assaulting a ziggurat which is apparently the source of many of the aberration armies plaguing Khorvaire. We know that, at the very least, destroying it will prevent them from unleashing their greatest weapon on all of us. If you have anything that could aid us in this, that would benefit both of us and reduce the chances of further annoyances like the one we just ended.”
He glances at his companions and continues, “Gareth and Luna would probably like something shiny and magical for their efforts, since they treasure such things. I would like a few of your strongest blackscale guardians to aid us in the assault on the ziggurat. While they will almost certainly all die, they are formidable enough in combat to aid us significantly. Korm would probably like something to eat and Six will have to speak for himself. Though he does appreciate oddities and curios, I suspect he may also ask to capture your image for reproduction in a sculpture. He is accumulating a unique collection of such things.”
The alienist hesitates, and then adds, “One last thing. I would like to prevent a repeat of the ‘issues’ that caused you to send your armies forth. Is it possible to either settle the issues that caused it or come to an arrangement that will prevent any further such conflicts?”
The dragon listens unblinkingly until Nameless finishes, and then it says slowly, “I can provide some things to aid you, and send some of my followers with you. It is good that you are honest about their likely deaths. I would have been displeased if you hadn’t been. I will send those I can do without.”
Nameless nods. “I would not lie. You have seen our power and know the threats we face. If I had told you otherwise, you would have laughed in our face. Just before you tried to eat it.”
The dragon’s lips curl back from its fangs in what must be a smile, and it continues, “You are right. As for my armies – that is simple. Tell the humans to not encroach on my land. And some sacrifices would be good too.” Rhashaak spreads his wings, almost filling one end of the chamber, and raises his neck to its longest, looking down at the Angels from far above them. "I am soon to be a god! A god must have a land where he is worshiped. And followers. And sacrifices. Is that not so?”
Without waiting for an answer, Rhashaak lowers his head slightly, neck moving back and forth as he studies the Angels. “Will you worship me? If so, I can make you greater and more powerful, as I have made the blackscales, and it will aid you against this ziggurat-thing more than any items I would be willing to give you.” He adds boastfully. “I am almost a god. I have many powers, and the secrets of Haka’torvhak are mine.” The dragon’s neck snakes around as he suddenly turns to scan the shadows around the room, looking back and forth, and he growls, addressing someone or something else, “MINE! ONLY MINE!”
Oh good – he’s definitely insane! Wanting to buy a few moments before he replies, Nameless says, “Can you provide a map of what you consider your lands? Humans need such things specified for them. They need to be bound by rules and laws. Also, if some wish to move into your lands, what would you ask of them? And I have some other questions – What do you consider worthy sacrifices? Are animals sufficient? Treasure? Magic? For peace humans may be able to provide a certain amount.”
“Maps?” Rhashaak snarls, but it is in disdain, not as a threat. “I am the god-king of Haka’torvhak! My people guarded this city long before the humans came! I care not for their maps! All this land is mine! ALL!”
He roars the last word and again glares at the shadows. Then he calms slightly and responds to the other questions. “If the humans come to my land they must accept me as king and worship me as their god. Tribute of all kinds is acceptable, especially magic and treasure, but sacrifices are best. Not animals. Pah! But living, intelligent beings, who may give their life for the greater glory of Rhashaak.”
Rhashaak smiles a draconic smile at the thought and then cocks his head as he eyes Nameless. “You did not answer my question. Will you worship me? As I said, I can give you much in return.”
Nameless sighs inwardly and then replies, “Can you give us more time? Kaarn the Conqueror once said, ‘Ask me for anything but more time.’ That is our greatest limitation. There simply isn't enough time for all the things we need to do.” Before the dragon can complain that he isn’t answering, he adds, “As far as worship goes, my soul is spoken for. You cannot gain the powers I have, without ... making certain sacrifices. Bargains have to be struck and there is always a price to be paid. And that is a coin I have no more of.”
The alienist gestures at his companions. “Gareth is likewise spoken for, as well as notoriously inflexible in such matters. Luna, well ... nobody can speak for her.”
And she’ll speak for herself, endlessly, at length and in details you don’t want to hear. “Korm is quite fascinated by anything which increases his power, so he may be receptive to your offer. And Six may not be averse to such an offer either. He and his people lack any gods of their own.”
“Not exactly,” says Six. “Some of my people have theories about that. But,” he addresses Rhashaak, “Nameless is generally right about us. And I do have a request, if you don’t mind. Would you pose for a sculpture, like he said?”
Rhashaak looks a little surprised at the request to pose, but then nods quickly, dripping more acidic drool on the floor. “Yes. That is an excellent idea. A sculpture would be a wonderful addition to my throne room. Or perhaps one for the sacrifice altar. Can you make me a life-size one? I will have the finest stone brought for you!”
Six quickly replies, “I was thinking of a smaller sculpture to start with, and then I could do a large one later. After our trouble with the aberrations is over. I’m also curious how your ascension is going. What is the process?”
Rhashaak glares at him and then his neck snakes down so that he can stare Six in the eyes. “That is
my secret! Mine! And my ascension goes as it should. It is inevitable.”
Since he is unable to swallow, Six simply nods and says, “Very good. As a god to be, do you know of any other gods?”
“Of course I know of other gods. But they are not gods which dwell here in this world. Other than your,” Rhashaak glances at Gareth, “little Silver Flame. I shall be the first true deity that dwells in Eberron, and certainly in Khorvaire.”
“Very good. I will try to make you an appropriate sculpture. After the smaller one first.”
Rhashaak’s face twists in what is probably a draconic frown and he says, “Very well. A small piece is acceptable. I will consider that tribute.” He then addresses the group as a whole, “And I shall give you some of my blackscale warriors, as this one,” he indicates Nameless with a giant claw, “Requested. And some magical treasures which I can spare. Is there anything else you need?”
Gareth, who has been thinking that the dragon is as megalomaniacal as it is insane but not saying anything to avoid upsetting it, finally speaks up. “What kind of magical items can you spare to help us out?”
Rhashaak’s head whips around and he growls, “Whatever I choose, human!” Then his tone softens slightly and he shrugs massively. “I will see. There are many things I have not touched in decades, some of which would much better suit you creatures than myself. You wear,” he sniffs disdainfully, “Shoes and gloves and belts and other such things which are beneath the dignity of a dragon. And a god.”
Rhashaak snorts and says peremptorily, “Wait here. Do not go anywhere.” Then he casts a
dimension door and disappears.
Luna growls irritably as the dragon departs. “Man ... did that dragon get whackier since we came back? He seemed so reasonable before we left! Maybe he caught something while tangling with the stuff through the portal. And maybe we should kill him now.” She scratches her chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never killed a sorta-god before.”
“I think he was just this insane,” rasps Nameless. “We just didn’t spend enough time speaking to him earlier. And I would rather not waste time trying to kill a ‘sorta-god’ right. Let’s just take whatever aid he provides and, if possible later, return to deal with him when needed.”
“I agree,” says Six. “I suggest we just look Rhashaak and this area over closely, since we might have to come back and kill him. An ascendant dragon half-fiend would be a bad thing to have around anyway, and it could be the sacrifice needed to close the seals. He seems insane, but he might have the power. Remember, according to Xagygyrag, the planes will soon align for the best time to reseal the dimensions. We need a major life force on this plane to power the seals. The Silver Flame could be one, and this chump might be another.”
“Sounds like a plan,” says Korm. “I’m quite happy to avoid tangling with giant dragons unless we can’t avoid it.”
“Me too,” says Gareth.
“I think we should celebrate,” Nameless says dryly. “We almost have consensus, for once, about not trying to get ourselves killed.” He glances at Luna. “Almost.”
“Fine,” grumbles Luna, “But I hope we don’t regret it.”
* * * * *
Nearly an hour later…
The Angels stand in a large chamber in Flamekeep with Jaela Daran, who is perched on a table so as to put her closer to the same height as them. Half a dozen of the large, winged blackscale lizardfolk huddle together at one side of the chamber, talking quietly among themselves, clearly uncomfortable with their surroundings and the situation they find themselves in.
“So this possibly insane half-fiend dragon gave you these warriors and a number of magical items to aid you?” asks the Keeper of the Flame, with far less surprise in her voice than would be appropriate for anyone who hasn’t actually spent some time with the Guardian Angels.
“Yes,” rasps Nameless, with a thin smile. “He was quite evil, I think, which led us – based on previous experiences – to believe that we could trust his offer.”
“I see,” says Jaela. “And it seems you were right, so it’s not mine to judge.” The young girl smiles, “I worked that out soon after meeting all of you. Anyway, what do you propose to do next?”
“We plan to summon Enitharmon, Keeper,” replies Gareth, “And then leave for the Marches. We considered doing so in the morning, but decided that we’d rather not spend any spells on transportation, since we might need them.”
“Good point,” says Jaela. She hops off the table, causing slightly pitiful and panicky growling to emerge from the mass of fur, fangs and claws which is rolling around in a corner of the room (unsurprisingly, an area the blackscales have placed themselves diametrically opposite to). The Keeper looks in that direction and says, her tone polite and only faintly pained, “Err … Luna?”
Gareth crimsons as he turns quickly in that direction. “Luna! Let the Keeper’s guardian go!”
“Nobody ever lets me have fun!” growls Luna, but the dire bear lets Skaravojen go, allowing the magical Vadalis-created dragonhound to extricate itself from her grasp and bound to Jaela with as much dignity as it can muster.
“Oh, good,” says Korm, with a loud chuckle. “I was wondering what she was doing to the poor creature, but was too scared to ask! I’m just relieved that it wasn’t a gnome.”
Luna promptly blows the Gatekeeper a loud and ursine raspberry. Six looks back and forth between the two and then nods mechanically, saying quietly, “Sleep, food, excretion and sex – I’m quite positive those are the reasons all your species are fundamentally insane.”
Nameless shakes his head slightly and then focuses on Jaela, who is watching the entire interplay with amused – if slightly wide – eyes. “I believe,” the alienist says, “I should contact Enitharmon now and ask him to join us. It’s not good to give them,” he glances at his companions, “Too much time. They can keep this up all day. Xoriat can actually be a relief, in comparison.”
Jaela giggles. “I believe you. And I must say, one of the things that amazes me most about your group is that you all provide amusement even at a time like this.” She shakes her head and giggles again, but then quickly turns serious. “And you’re right, Nameless. Go ahead and contact Enitharmon, and tell me if there’s anything else you need.”
“I will think on it,” says Nameless, before raising the new staff he carries. “This thing can cast sixteen
disintegrates. If I cannot destabilize the ziggurat with that, combined with Luna’s, Korm’s and my spells, then I don’t think anything can help deal with it.”
* * * * *
Later, shortly before sunset, in the Shadow Marches…
Enitharmon stands about a mile from the cave opening to the tunnels which eventually culminate in the cavern housing the ziggurat, looking back and forth with an only mildly wrathful expression. The Angels stand around him and, a short distance away, the blackscale guardians provided by Rhashaak watch the planetar warily.
Nearby, two ropes hang suspended from mid-air, and the planetar’s ire is apparently focused on them. “You mean to tell me,” he says, “That you brought me all the way here, crossing between the planes and halfway across your continent, so that I can spend the night inside a
rope trick spell with the rest of you?”
“We have used much of our magic today,” Gareth explains, “And will be in much better shape for a battle in the morning, when we have prepared a full quota of spells.”
“Believe me,” Nameless adds dryly, “If this place is anything like what it was on our previous visits, there will be more than enough to keep you busy.” He looks around, his vision enhanced by a
see invisibility spell, and notes the swirls of roiling grey mist shot through with purplish-green streaks that fill the ethereal plane around them, deepening drastically nearer to the entrance to the tunnels. “The influence of the manifest zone has clearly spread. I wonder if that is a natural, and I use the word advisedly, result of the Xoriat incursion. Or if someone – or something – specific is behind it. The divinations we have used certainly, for what it’s worth, indicate that we are expected.”
The alienist recalls what Jaela told him and repeats for Enitharmon’s benefit, “This is what the Silver Flame told us about the situation: ‘The primary defenders of the ziggurat are veiled from divination by its power, as you are from them. But they expect your coming, just as you know they await you. Outside the ziggurat, giant and dwarf, beast and weed, are ready to defend it. Use your allies and minions to clear you a way to the ziggurat, and husband your strength, since you will need all your might to prevail.’”
“That sounds excellent,” says Enitharmon, brandishing his sword. “I thirst for battle.”
“So do I,” grins Korm, “But I think Nameless has a point about getting some rest and gathering all our strength.”
The others agree, and the planetar gives in with a poor grace. He flies up to and enters the
rope trick, pausing only to promise dire vengeance on anyone joining him who happens to snore.
Six studies the spot where Enitharmon disappeared speculatively. “He seems … hasty. I hope that will not be a problem tomorrow.”
“If he’s anywhere near as powerful as he’s bloodthirsty,” says Nameless, “He’ll be worth the effort. I think. Now let’s get some rest.”
The Angels fly up into the
rope trick too, while the blackscales, having been informed by them what they need to do, enter the second of the magical spaces. Silence, except for the faint calls of birds and the sound of the wind, descends on this little piece of the Shadow Marches.
A few minutes after the Angels enter the
rope trick and pull the rope up, the earth beneath it ripples softly, as if something were moving through the marshy ground as smoothly as if it were water. Moments later, something huge breaks through the surface a short distance away and a small forest of long necks extend into the air, the reptilian heads topping them looking around curiously. After a few seconds, they sink back beneath the ground again, which closes smoothly behind them.
And somewhere, not too far away, two lavender eyes open. The inhumanly beautiful face in which they are set remains unchanged for a few seconds, and then it slowly moves.
And the daelkyr smiles.
* Pseudonatural elder xorns, advanced to CR 13.
- Crothian (and 
)
Linear Mode
And yet another word from our sponsors
