Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
That is so ruthless wow the party is down to 3 and stuck on another plane
The perfect time to ambush them with 12 umber hulks and a plane sailing ship full of god knows what, illitheds? Drow?
Come on now! Drow wouldn't be very exotic; Morier is a drow, after all. And the illithids don't come until much later. So you'll have to just keep guessing.
Quote:
That exceeds RBDMing by a long shot
Is that flattery I hear?
But seriously, things aren't quite as bad as they seem right now.
For everyone but Noxin, I mean. For Noxin things are just as bad as they seem.
Morier channeled another second circle spell through Ravager driving the bastard sword into the nearest hulk's abdomen. It shrieked in pain, but the cries were almost drowned out by the crackling sizzle of lightning arcing between the eldritch warrior and the umber hulk. Morier was unaffected by the feedback from his Elemental Blade attack, but the umber hulk quivered and smoked from the terrible assault. It was clearly a few heartbeats away from death, but it clung stubbornly to life nonetheless.
Its fellow flailed desperately at the albino, but Morier managed to avoid both its claws. However, in doing so he set himself up for a direct hit from its mandibles. They slashed down savagely around his bare head, but despite the full brunt of the hulk's strength it left little more than a scratch on the albino's pale cheek.
Grandfather Plaque was so far managing to stay away from his own adversary's reach, forcing it to chase him down time and again. And each time moving just out of its grasp at the last second. He maneuvered himself so that his umber hulk was isolated from his allies and opened his stone mouth wide. He let loose with a Shout that ravaged the hulk with sonic energy. Fine cracks that leaked a dark ichor spread across the creature's carapace as it writhed momentarily before expiring.
Saelus, too was trying his best to fight a tactical battle, but with somewhat less success than the tiny construct. The colonel's opponent lashed out a heavy claw and locked a grip on the man's leg. He tried to bring the Unity Blade down onto the thing's wrist, to break its grip, but the chitinous exoskeleton turned the sabre aside without damaging the creature in the slightest. Then it drew him into its embrace.
He tried desperately to twist free of its clutches, but each of its arms was bigger around than his entire body and he found himself crushed impotently against its scratchy, plated chest, his weapon pressed uselessly at his side.
From the corner of his eye, Morier saw another explosion of goo appear off to his right. The ship was still firing on them, but it was well clear of the combatants and quickly collapsed in upon itself. The eldritch warrior ignored it and instead launched himself at the horribly wounded umber hulk before him, burying nearly half of Ravager into the creature's belly. It spasmed weakly against him and fell still, tiny droplets of its blood forming a cloud around both it and Morier.
Before the albino could draw his bastard sword free of the thing, its companion was upon him. It locked its claws onto the elf's shoulder, but before it could solidify its grip, Morier twisted, dragging Ravager from one hulk's entrails and burying it in the other's. This time, he didn't stop with only half the blade and he sank the weapon deep. Hot lifeblood soaked his hands even as the jagged point of the sword erupted from the hulk's armored back. It let out a single spluttering gasp and sagged onto the elf. [ 1 ]
Grandfather Plaque spit another salvo of Magic Missiles at the last umber hulk, striking its back with deadly accuracy as it fled toward the spider ship with Saelus in its clutches. It winced, but did not slacken its pace. The war wizard struggled, but it was hopeless; he was pinned.
Morier launched himself after the umber hulk rapidly closing the distance and sinking his blade into its flank. The creature shrieked but kept going, unwilling to lose its captured prey in favor of striking at another. It dug its claws deeper into the colonel's flesh and pressed on even as another volley of Magic Missiles sizzled across its carapace.
Saelus felt the hulk's blood washing over him as it labored toward the ship. The mage chanced to look up and saw that the arachnoid vessel was turning, angling away from the combat.
Morier charged into the thing again, but this time his blade ricocheted off its armor without injuring the hulk in the slightest. Of course, that same armor offered no protection from Grandfather Plaque's Magic Missiles, and a moment later, four bolts of force pelted its head, cracking its carapace and causing the dead hulk to somersault forward, releasing the rumpled colonel as it did so.
"The ship," Saelus rasped, pointing just as the spider ship began moving off into the void faster than any of them could fly. They were left floating amidst the wreckage of battle.
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[ 1] Morier scored a critical threat, rolled a critical threat to confirm the first critical, rolled a third critical threat to confirm the second threat, and the last roll was a hit (not a threat). But a triple crit is enough to trigger my instant kill rule. And so he did.
"The ship," the mage said again and Grandfather Plaque sailed over to look into Saelus' face.
In a most bewildered voice the construct asked, "Certainly you don't mean for them to return?"
"I am loath to let a ship like that get away," the colonel explained. "It is a good opportunity for us."
"They are UMBER HULKS!" Grandfather Plaque countered, gnashing his stone teeth against each other as he spoke. "Not to mention that we are outnumbered and that ship was launching the most unfavorable green substance." He scrunched up his nose in distaste as he looked at the drying balls of goo floating nearby.
"They weren't all umber hulks," Morier said and launched himself in the direction of the ship. Grandfather Plaque again opened his mouth to protest that course, but it became apparent that the eldritch warrior was only approaching some debris left in the ship's wake, not seeking the ship itself. He drew up beside a small object that at first looked like a bundle of sticks, but at the others floated nearer, its true nature presented itself. It was an arachnoid corpse, frozen to death in Morier's initial Ice Storm.
The spiderlike thing had a long, flexible neck and an eel-like head with tiny, needle-sharp teeth. Its body was covered with stiff hair, dyed in complex designs, and it wore a light leather harness from which depended a small crossbow and quiver of bolts. Its small black eyes stared at them lifelessly, but still seemed to convey a sense of rapacious cruelty even in death.
"What is it?" Morier asked, prodding the body with Ravager.
"I don't know," admitted Saelus as he came closer for a better look.
"Nor do I," Grandfather Plaque said.
"Well judging by the gear its carrying and the design of that ship, I'd wager that it was in command of the umber hulks," the albino said as he sheathed his sword.
"A reasonable assumption," Saelus agreed as he looked at the thing's vicious head.
"I still think we are far better off floating along on our own," Grandfather Plaque announced.
"I agree," Morier said and Saelus looked up.
"I suggest we gather all this so, at least in some way, we have something out of this combat other than the loss of an ally," Saelus said gravely looking at Noxin with the respect he deserved as a great warrior.
Morier drifted toward the barbarian's ripped and bloodied corpse and mentally added another mark to the tally of companions who had died at his side. He could undo this, he sensed. The power now pulsed within him to draw Noxin's soul back from Myrkuhl's domain if he chose and the temptation to do so was very strong; they needed all the help they could get after all. But he resisted the desire. It would be taking an action he believed should be reserved for the gods... or at the very least someone who had a greater spiritual connection to a god than he did as an Eldritch Warrior.
Yes, he had the ability but the ability wasn't truly his, he knew. He was merely a vessel for the power. It was temporarily bestowed on him and using it to reincarnate Noxin would, he decided, be a misuse of that power.
Sighing, he took the barbarian's greathammer and eased it into Huzair's Valiant Vessel bag. HIS, Valiant Vessel bag, he corrected. It didn't truly belong to Huzair any more than the hammer still belonged to Noxin. Morier felt a weight settle uncomfortably on his shoulders as he thought about events and his place within them.
"Morier, you might want us to make use of the glasses he had," Saelus said suddenly. He indicated the goggles worn high on Noxin's forehead. "The clearing of sight does add significantly to the view you get when wearing the glasses." Morier looked at the goggles and stripped them from the half-giant's body.
He looked sadly at them and muttered to himself, "I don't feel like I've seen clearly in a while now."
They rested, despite Saelus' protests. "I still say we should press our advantage," he asserted. "A ship without most of its crew won't go far." Neither Grandfather Plaque nor Morier had much inclination to seek further battle, however and so they rested.
There was no convenient ground nearby so they were forced to lash the umber hulks together into a rough approximation of terra firma. The amalgamation was bizarre and more than a little grisly considering that Noxin's remains were part of their improvised island, but pragmatism won out over sentiment.
Morier used his newfound powers to heal the worst of the colonel's injuries and then Saelus settled in with the spellbook he'd gotten from Huzair's Haversack. After a while, he paused long enough to scratch out a rough magical formula onto the back of a nearby umber hulk.
"By the way, Morier, I have an idea that could use Noxin as the host for a spell of creation," he observed, tapping out the ritual he'd outlined on the hulk's carapace. "So that we might have a companion of sorts that is able to fight for us. But it does probably then need that hammer to wield." He then pointed at the Valiant Vessel bag into which Morier had placed Noxin's magical gear. Morier looked over at the wizard's writing and, while he couldn't understand all of it, he saw that it was far from complete, having just the barest suggestion of how such a thing might be accomplished in theoretical terms.
"I'm laying no claim to the weapon, Saelus," the albino said. "It's just too big to carry any other way." The war mage nodded and went back to flipping through his new spellbook to see if he could find an Identify spell in its pages.
Morier began examining the potions.
A few minutes later, Saelus closed the book with a frustrated sigh and said, "I think the other spellbook contains an Identify spell, and unless you're capable of casting such an incantation, I need access to that spell." Morier looked up at him and put the stopper back into the potion vial he was examining.
"I'll get it," he said, getting to his feet. He handed the mage a clutch of potion bottles. "Take a look at these three and see if you can tell what they are. I deduced that the other one's a Potion of Invisibility."
"That will come in handy," Colonel Saelus said, accepting the other three vials.
Morier soon had recovered the second spellbook from the Handy Haversack and he waited for Saelus to examine the potions. The mage was only able to identify one with any certainty: a Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds. The other two vials were quite similar, but there were enough differences that he wasn't comfortable saying they were all Cure potions.
Saelus took the second book, black-bound and adorned with shiny metal studs, and settled in with it while Morier brooded with his thoughts and Grandfather Plaque circled their "island" on watch duty but growing more and more enamored with his freedom on the astral plane.
"Gah!" Colonel Saelus growled snapping the spellbook shut some time later. "I can't make heads or tails of this encoding matrix! I can barely make sense of the handwriting! The formula is idiosyncratic and needlessly grandiose!"
"That sounds like Huzair," Morier said, smiling wistfully at the thought that the wizard was managing to annoy folks even after his death. Huzair would be proud of himself if he only knew.
"I can't learn this spell," Saelus muttered bitterly. "Not now anyway." Morier stood up and walked over to the mage, extending his hand for the spellbook.
"Well, the items aren't going anywhere," he said, patting the Haversack at his side. "And neither are we unless we get moving."
They unlashed their "island" and repackaged the corpses so that Saelus and Morier could each tow some of the bodies; Saelus had an idea of making suits of hide armor from the umber hulks and since the bodies did not decay on the astral plane there was no hurry in shelling them.
With no indication of a direction to head, they followed the path of the fleeing spider ship. Contrary to Grandfather Plaque's very vocal protests.
Saelus quietly suggested to Morier that they return the construct to the Handy Haversack in order to have some peace and quiet.
This time when the ship approached, they did not see it until they heard the cry of "Ahoy!"
They turned to see what looked like a narrow longboat approaching from behind them at an oblique angle. It was close enough for them to see that a bearded human dressed in robes stood at the fore, his hands hovering over a massive crystal embedded in the bow. Light from the crystal washed over him and his companions, four tall, skeletally-thin humanoids with jaundiced flesh bearing a variety of large, bladed weapons stowed about their person.
Morier recognized them from Huzair's description of his brief time on the astral plane. "Githyanki," he said to Saelus.
"Ahoy!" the human shouted again. "Do you require assistance?"
"I see none of us who needs assistance," Saelus said with a nod to the bearded human. The war mage did not want to show any form of weakness in front of an unknown race... particularly not one that carried so many greatswords and halbards. "Though a question comes to mind: have you seen a spidership come by?"
"A spidership?" the robbed man said as he maneuvered the ship closer to Morier and Saelus through some inexplicable means. "A neogi vessel?" he asked and the githyanki in the boat seemed to grow suddenly agitated. Saelus merely pointed at the dead umber hulks.
"We fought off the away team, but the ship got away, unfortunately," he said as if it were all in a day's work. The boatman stepped away from the crystal and put a foot up on his boat's gunwale. He leaned on his knee and peered at the detritus of lashed bodies. His eyebrows went up.
"Just the two of you?" he asked, clearly surprised. Grandfather Plaque shot upward and closer to the man.
"Two?!?" the stone face said irritably. "I helped!" The boatman drew back in surprise from the flying construct and Morier saw several of the githyanki tighten grips on their weapons.
"Yes!" Morier jumped in. "Grandfather Plaque was instrumental in our victory." The boatman nodded.
"Even so... three against a neogi vessel and their slaves," he said and whistled appreciatively. "No mean feat there. You are clearly not men... or constructs... to be trifled with." The albino nodded.
"And how is it that you've crossed our path?" he asked and the man stepped back from the gunwale and gestured around at the astral expanse.
"Salvage!" he said with pride. "Lots of stuff gets lost in the astral sea... some fool puts a portable hole inside a bag of holding... an archmage breaks a staff... You'd be surprised what ends up just drifting out here."
Morier glanced at Saelus and Grandfather Plaque and decided that he probably wouldn't be all that surprised, really.
"So you and your crew fly around looking for lost junk?" Saelus asked and the boatman chuckled.
"It's not all junk, my friend," the bearded man said. "Most of it is magical gear, truth be told. And I'm not talking about potions and scrolls, either. I'm talking the good stuff! Rods, amulets, cloaks... Why Gisir Okemocik has an entire wall decorated just with weapons that folks have recovered from the void and brought to Akiv-tchai over the years."
"Akiv-tchai?" Morier asked. "Where's that..." He paused realizing that he'd never learned the man's name. The boatman smiled and bowed slightly.
"I am Olimir Frisig," he said. "And Akiv-tchai is a githyanki trading outpost... well, really it's THE githyanki trading outpost, at least the only one this close to the Chain of Tears."
"The Chain of Tears?" Saelus asked and Olimir shook his head, bemused.
"You folks are new to the astral, aren't you?" he asked. "The Chain of Tears is Buomman territory. It's a bunch of floating rocks mainly. The githyanki go in there looking for driftmetal every now and again, until the Buommans chase them out. It's not worth the trouble if you ask me."
"Now umber hulk carcasses..." Olimir added, angling his head at their burden. "Those could fetch a tidy sum at Akiv-tchai... if you were looking to unload them, I mean. I'm heading back that way... I'd be happy to give you a tow."
"I am right to assume the towing would not be for free," Saelus asked. "After all, you're a business man and I don't think you would be going the same way for free, no?" Olimir smiled.
"In truth, I am going that way. On the astral sea there are many directions to head, but not many places to go," he admitted. "But yes, a small travel fee would be appropriate, I think. Say... 10% of the profit from your sale of the umber hulk corpses?" The boatman put his foot back on the gunwale and leaned over the side to nod at the two companions. Morier nodded back.
"We'd be happy to pay you a percentage of whatever we can barter for their sale in exchange for the ride," the albino said, looking to Saelus. The war wizard regarded Morier with a strange expression that was obscured by the Eyes of the Eagle that he wore. "What's a fair price, Saelus?"
Saelus looked as if in thought. He took the glasses off for a second and thoughtfully worked his temples, then he said, "I think 6% would be more then enough." With that he extended his hand to indicate he was haggling and expected a slap on his hand from the boatman with a counter offer as he'd seen done in certain bazaars in Elcaden. Instead, Olimir bent low and grasped his hand in a firm shake.
"Done!" he said. "Attach your ropes to the stern and we'll be on our way. It shouldn't take long, but I must concentrate to pilot the ship."
After some time, they reached Akiv-tchai. The outpost was built in, and projecting out from, a roughly spherical piece of astral debris they judged to be 200 feet or so in diameter. Four towers jutted out from the central section at roughly symmetrical angles while a fifth projection, longer and thicker than the towers, was topped by a bulbous sphere with four smaller towers jutting out near the edges of a large set of double doors — the only apparent route by which to enter the complex. And it was toward this that Olimir guided the longboat.
Without the largest of the projections, the outpost closely resembled a jack, of the sort used in the “ball and jacks” game played by children on Orune. But a sinister jack, to be sure, decorated everywhere with iron spikes and riveted metal plates.
As their boat neared the double doors, Olimir slowed its progress and two of the githyanki flew from the ship to the portal and, heaving mightily, pushed the valves open so that the dimly-lit interior of the stone sphere became visible, lit dimly by Everburning Torches. Their flickering light illuminated several mooring platforms that jutted from the far side of the hollow sphere, pointing like wooden fingers toward the huge double doors. There was another ship docked at a far platform, but Olimir deftly steered their boat toward one of the center docks. The other pair of githyanki grabbed mooring lines and secured the ship.
"Welcome to Akiv-tchai," Olimir said as he turned from the crystal and stretched his back.
This chamber was spherical, about 100 feet in diameter and decorated everywhere with reliefs of githyanki warriors and huge fire-breathing dragons laying waste to strange humanoids with heads that looked entirely like octopi. The large set of double doors thudded closed behind them on the outside wall as the first pair of githyanki moved to rejoin them. A smaller set of double doors were on the opposite wall evidently leading deeper into the outpost. Four 10-foot-wide passages lead away from the sphere, each of them a 30-foot-long corridor down which the silvery light of the astral plane flickered. Judging by their placement around the place, Saelus imagined that they were actually the inside of the smaller towers they had seen when approaching the place.
"It seems awfully empty for a trading outpost," Grandfather Plaque asserted as he floated around.
"Don't worry," Olimir said. "I sent word ahead that we'd be arriving."
As if on cue, there came a loud clunk from the double doors at the front of the chamber as a bar was drawn away. Then they opened and a squad of githyanki floated into the room in a tight, regimented formation. They bristled with weapons and wore baroque armor that glittered with filigree in the light from the Everburning Torches. They immediately spread out into a loose cluster as a pair of githyanki flew out, their armor slightly more elaborate than the others. They were followed by a third whose armor was more impressive yet, and it became apparent at once that he was in charge of this group. He sneered imperiously at Olimir and his passengers.
"Wait here," the boatman said to Saelus and Morier. "There are some protocols that need to be followed." He favored them with a thin smile and drifted toward the cloud of grim-faced githyanki. But instead of speaking with their leader he simply joined their ranks and smiled back at Saelus and Morier once more.
"Well, Morier," a voice said from the rear of the group, "We meet again." A figure was there and he moved forward as the githyanki parted to make room. He was a man dressed in black with a white goatee and he bore a staff with a loupe of gold at its apex.
"Dr. Akerman?" Morier sputtered, incredulous.
"Indeed," the loremaster said, grinning. "And I believe you have something that I want."
I was thinking they would have gotten together before that darned spider ship turned up
But still you stretch it out so painfully
It seem at this point if Morier dies it would essential be a TPK
Not literally but in essence.
Well, I've messed about with the timeline a bit in order to keep things interesting for the story hour readers (or 'painful' as you so aptly put it). There's actually a fair bit more adventure with the cavalry before any survivors meet up. I wanted to get to the dramatic reappearance of Dr. Akerman before I went back to the other side, but that's next on my posting agenda.
"Sure," J'ann said with a sparing nod of his head beneath his dark cloak. "We know where Akiv-tchai is."
"We could point you in the right direction," J'inn added, taking up the thread of thought where his twin had left off. "Make your quest a little bit easier." This was indeed good news, Ayremac thought, staring off into the silver void of the astral plane. Finding the location of Fedifensor in such an empty place would prove daunting without knowledgeable guides. He suspected divine intervention had placed he and Ixin on intesecting paths with the pair.
"But first we need you to do something for us," J'ann finished and both men smiled, a strange expression on their rubbery white faces.
"And just what's that?" Ayremac asked, impatiently. It seemed that no one did anything out of the goodness of their hearts anymore.
"Have you heard of the neogi?" J'inn replied and Ayremac shook his head.
"I have," Ixin admitted somewhat distastefully. Her past haunted her at odd times; there were memories that she could not shake regardless of what body she wore. "The Dragon's Claw had occasional dealings with them back on Mid'Gaard. Slavers, aren't they?" J'ann nodded but his twin began a stuttering song that reflected his opinion of the neogi. The Buomman* habit of singing alien and discordant songs at odd times was beginning to grate on Ixin's nerves.
"B-B-B-B-B-Bad! B-B-B-B-B-Bad! B-B-B-B-B-Bad! B-B-B-B-B-Bad to the bone!" J'inn warbled and J'ann nodded more vehemently.
"They certainly are!" he agreed. "Slavery is one of their crimes, but the list is long regardless."
"In that case, I'll not do anything to benefit them," Ayremac said flatly. "No matter what information you try to tempt me with." J'inn smiled and held up a finger.
"Precisely!" he exclaimed. "We thought you might say that."
"You do sort of project an image of incorruptible goodness," J'ann agreed, gesturing fleetingly at Ayremac's wings, hair, eyes. "Lets a body know right away where he stands with you."
"Very refreshing!" J'inn said with a nod. Then he quickly changed verbal directions and added, "We'd like to take down a group of neogi operating nearby."
"And we'd like your help," J'ann added and Ixin glanced at Ayremac, locking eyes long enough to read her own thoughts reflected there. They needed the Buommans' help to find Akiv-tchai and Fedifensor and taking down some vicious slavers was a worthy act in its own right.
"We're listening," she said, turning to look at the smiling twins.
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*FYI, These are not true by-the-book Buommans, obviously. They represent a mash-up of Buommans (from the Planar Handbook) and Dvati (from the Dragon Compendium), favoring the Dvati in most everything but name.
Happy DM Day, Jon!
You said it darkhall-nestor, he's bad to the bone. But he's our beloved DM and we're the ones who keep coming back for more. Maybe someday he'll have mercy.
"As we agreed. Half now," Maleko said, smoothly regaining his composure after the startling appearance of the fiend. He handed the chain devil a bag holding various magic items that they'd each sacrificed to this endeavor - his Tome of Worldly Memory, and Personal Oasis, Del's headband and belt, Cerrakean's extra boots. "But the rest are ours to use until we have found the remaining coins. Not a moment before we are returned to the prime material plane. As was agreed." Maleko's voice was firm, hiding his fear or this creature, a personification of evil such as he had only ever before read about. Seeing such a thing in person was much more frightening than the drawings he had seen. The chain devil scowled at Maleko and the elf felt his stomach turn to water despite his facade of calm.
"The Captain was not pleased about that arrangement," Shroud hissed, its voice like death itself. It hefted the bag as if judging its worth by weight alone and then, satisfied, nodded once at the group. "I will take you to him, mortals."
He turned and Del, Maleko and Cerreakan followed with Bloj putting himself at the rear of the party. He did not seem to want to get in the way of any disagreements there might be.
Maleko saw at once that his assessment from the door was correct; there was a three masted ship veiled within the blue-gray mist. He grinned inwardly but thought nothing more of it. Del, however, was intrigued, for where Maleko saw just another ship (albeit one in a peculiar locale) Del saw hundreds of tiny differences between this vessel and ones that sailed the seas of Orune. They jumped out at him as they moved to the forecastle, and he found himself gawking at each mysterious eccentricity in turn.
For her part, Cerrakean cared little for the ship or its arcane detailing. Her eyes were fixed on those crewmen that she saw. A few githyanki were loitering about the deck near the stern. Three of the larger ones were pushing around a smaller one apparently trying to get him to do their mundane duties on the deck. It was plain to the hobgoblin that strength ruled in this crowd and weakness was something they preyed upon. Cerrakean smiled. She could work with that.
They neared the captain's quarters and the kyton instructed the group to wait before disappearing inside with a rattle of chains. As soon as the devil was away behind a closed door that left the four apparently alone at the front of the ship, Maleko cast a spell. He intended to listen in on the conversation by Comprehending the Language.
"Little Fairies! I could break them in half and use their bones to pick my teeth," he overheard one crewman say to another. The pair were staring threateningly and unapologetically at him and his companions.
"The captain thinks that he can make a profit off them, though," the other replied, spitting over the rail. "So we have to behave at least until the mission is done."
There was suddenly a loud roar from beyond the closed door to the captain's quarters. "I want payment now tell them! Rules have changed!" Grawl yelled. "There is too much danger and if they die, I don't get my money!" Maleko turned to Del and Cerrakean, equal parts nervousness and resolve written on his face.
"Look mean," he instructed the pair. "Put your hands on your weapons. We are going in there." Then he opened the door and walked in. The others followed and he told Bloj to shut the door in a firm tone the others had never heard him use. The halfling, used to having orders barked at him, jumped to immediately.
The captain's quarters were not unlike those that Del had seen on countless sailing ships. There was a desk or table at the rear of the chamber that was overflowing with charts and maps. A strange device of brass and crystal that the half-elf thought might have been some sort of astrolabe stood atop a metal pole bolted to the floor. The floor itself was covered haphazardly by rugs several layers deep that looked to have once been rich in color and design; now they were all a uniform grayish-brown color and laced with creeping black fingers of mold.
Shroud stood in the darkest corner of the room, its eyes and mouth glowing lantern-like from the shadows. A huge Githyanki was stooped before him, his head brushing the ceiling between rafters. His body language and finery told Maleko at once that this was Captain Grawl. The elf strode forward - his boots making unhealthy squishing noises on the carpets - and pointed his finger at the Captain.
"Your agents agreed to half now, half later. How dare you go back on your word to us? Your name will be spread across the astral plane as a 'kigfarlnal'," Maleko said. He indicated the bag of magic he'd given to the kyton which was now lying at Captain Grawl's feet. "There is half of the items agreed upon." The captain's lip pulled back from yellowed stumps.
"Who do you think you are, barging in here?" Grawl hissed making a threatening movement towards Maleko who barely flinched. Del and Cerrakean quickly drew their weapons and the chain devil appeared to ready itself for combat. Grawl made no other move, controlling himself - almost as if he were testing the party. He studied them and then nodded.
"No one profits if we fight. Let's settle down to business," Captain Grawl said motioning for Maleko to sit at the chart-draped table and for the chain devil to stand down. The Githyanki spat on the floor and pointed to one of the maps, seemingly at random. "This mission of yours is much more dangerous than first thought. How do I get paid if you all die while you are off in some area like the God Islands? Do you even have a clue, elf, as to the risks you put us in going there?" Grawl asked showing much more reason than anger in his tone for which Maleko was grateful. It had been a gamble forcing his way into the Captain's Quarters with a show of bravado and if Grawl had taken it as a challenge to his authority he felt certain that this would have turned into a very short voyage indeed.
"Point taken. Would a percentage of the treasure we find there improve your opinion of this mission? High risk, high reward?" the elf asked, steepling his slender fingers as he spoke. "When your name was mentioned at the World Serpent Inn, it was greeted with great respect... even fear. They said that you and your crew did not know the meaning of fear and were skilled warriors who could handle most anything." Grawl nodded as if he expected nothing less of his reputation. He considered the proposition. Carefully.
"I want 20%. And an additional 20% if you use any of my manpower," he said at last and Maleko sensed that he'd reached the limits of his bargaining room.
"Agreed," he said with a single nod that brought a disquieting smile to the captain's face.
"I will have Zogah show you to your quarters," Grawl said.
"And tell the crew that when this is over, they should leave us alone. Any other action would show great disrespect for your authority," Maleko said as he got to his feet. Then in an off-hand way he added, "Of course, I know you have the unquestioned control of your men." Grawl snorted.
"That I do! They do exactly as I say or there is trouble," said the Captain. He grinned his predatory grin. "They will leave you alone... provided your end of the bargain is upheld."
The ship sailed a little bit later. Or rather it ceased to be coterminous with the City of Doors and moved fully onto the Astral Plane. It was hard to say how long the voyage lasted on the astral plane, but it was enough time to for them to stow their gear and get comfortable in their small room.
Since no one could judge time very well on the astral plane they each did various things to amuse themselves or prepare. Maleko read from his tome. Del practiced some sword play, every once in a while catching a glance from Maleko. Cerrakean bantered and argued with the crew members and seemed right at home.
At some point a knock came at the door and the Captain stood there with Cerrakean when Maleko opened it. "Your gem says we are very close," Grawl explained without preamble. "But the ship is going no further because our lookout has spotted a Neogi Deathspider directly in our path. Those foul slavers are best avoided."
They followed one another quickly up on deck to view the ship which had brought Captain Grawl's vessel to a standstill. The sight of it made Del's head spin; another improbable image in a time and place already difficult to fathom. It was clearly a vessel, but one that gave the immediate impression of a mammoth arachnid: long slender legs, a bulging abdomen, and sails of glistening webbing. It was both intriguing to behold and frightening, due mostly to the reaction of Grawl's crew. Where they had been raucous and unreserved before, an ominous silence now held them as all eyes beheld the Neogi Deathspider. It hung in the distance of the silver void, a dreadful silhouette before and a little above the bow of the Dire Hag, presenting its stern and a bit of its belly and port side to them.
Shroud jangled to the captain's side as soon as he reappeared on deck.
"They do not attack," the fiend said simply and Grawl nodded, scratching at his leathery chin.
"Perhaps they've not seen us," he suggested in a whisper and Shroud shook its dark head once, its chains rattling as it did so.
"At this range? That is unlikely," the kyton said. "More likely she is a derelict."
"And a prize bit of salvage at that," Grawl muttered, suddenly grinning like a wolf. He turned to Maleko. "Elf, how would you like to re-negotiate our terms?"
"What are you proposing?" Maleko asked, tearing his curious eyes away from the spider ship to look up at Grawl's steel-gray eyes.
"You three scout out that ship for me, secure it, and I'll forgo my 20% claim to any further treasure that comes of your business," the githyanki offered, his eyes flicking eagerly back to the Deathspider. "Deal?"
"Captain, first give us all you know about the ship and who could be on it. Do not hold back anything you know would be useful from your experience," Maleko replied as the elf, too looked back over at the strange ship. "Also we get any choice items we find on the ship." Grawl's gaze snapped back to the elf at once.
"Is that so?" the githyanki growled, baring the brown stumps of his teeth as he glowered down at Maleko.
"If you want our help, it is," the wizard said coolly. The captain started at that, surprised by Maleko's nerve. Behind Grawl, Cerrakean barked laughter.
"You'll find that the elf's got a bit o' steel in him, captain," the hobgoblin said, scratching shamelessly. "He doesn't back down from a debate and if you want to cross swords... Well, then you'll want to talk to me or brown eyes over there." She jerked a thumb in Del's direction. Del drew himself up and squared his shoulders as the captain turned to look at him. Grawl sneered and squinted back at Maleko.
"You can keep what you can carry. No more," Grawl proposed and Maleko nodded.
"Agreed," the elf conceded. "What did Shroud mean by calling the ship a derelict?"
"He meant it's a derelict," Grawl sneered. "The neogi don't just sit by an' let another ship size 'em up the way we're doin'. If that was anything less than a derelict, then we'd be swarming with umber hulks instead of bickering over terms like a couple of mercane!" He spat on the deck near Maleko's impeccably polished boots.
"Can you spare any of your men to accompany us or are there any brave ones who may want to find some treasure or show their skills in battle?" the elf asked and Grawl burst out laughing. He turned to the crew and spread his ropy arms.
"Who wants to join these three on a mission to the deathspider?" he asked and the crew seemed to shrink away from him. No one spoke up. "Come on, now, lads! Don't be shy!" His cruel grin did not falter as he turned to look once more at Maleko.
"It seems you'll be needing to earn your own-" he began but a single shout from the back of the huddled crew halted him. The crowd of crewmen parted and a female lizardfolk limped forward. Her scales were light tan in color, but ashen and crisscrossed by cracks and scars and gouges. Her left eye had been sewn shut, bisected neatly by a terrible scar.
"I will go with them," the lizard woman hissed. Her tongue, long and pink, forked out of her mouth, tasting the air. Grawl snorted.
"Well, elf, it looks like you'll be havin' help after all," the captain said. "Let me introduce Jinissi, former slave of the neogi." Del perked up at once. It was easier to leave behind the regalia of the janissary than it was to lose the training and the very mention of slavery was abhorrent to him. He felt immediate sympathy for this former slave... despite her snake-like aspects.
"How did you come to be in service aboard the Dire Hag?" he asked her and she turned her head to regard him with her one eye.
"Captain Grawl bought me at auction on God's Rest," she said simply. There was a slight sibilance to her speech but otherwise her common was flawless. Del eyed the captain again and the half-elf wondered just how much he'd compromised his morals in the furtherance of this quest. And on the heels of that thought came another: How much more was he willing to give up?
"Aye," Grawl said. "But that was years ago. She's earned her freedom thrice over since that time." Jinissi nodded deferentially to the captain.
"What do you know of that ship?" Del asked her. "What is its layout? Number of crew? Defenses? Weaknesses? Whatever you can tell us." Now she nodded at Del.
"The Deathspider is built to be a raider. The legs serve as piercing rams, skewering and crippling other vessels so that the neogi's umber hulks can swarm the enemy and capture them easily," she said, displaying through her descriptions a keen intellect lurking behind her reptilian appearance. "Usually it will carry a crew of four neogi, double that number of umber hulks, and perhaps a dozen slaves."
"Sounds like fun," Cerrakean quipped and Del saw a glint of anticipation in her eye as she looked over at the Deathspider. Could she really be that confident? A single umber hulk would present a challenging opponent, facing eight at once seemed mad.
"What of the Neogi? What kind of fighters are they?" the hobgoblin asked, eager to assess the full threat. Jinissi hissed laughter, but there was no hint of mirth in her cold eye.
"They are frail fighters," she said and gestured to the halfling, Bloj. "Not much bigger than him. One blow is enough to put them down." Cerrakean grinned at that.
"How do they fair against spells?" Maleko asked and Jinissi shrugged.
"I am no spellcaster," she admitted. "But I do know that the neogi are strong of mind. They are capable of exerting their will over others."
"Great," Maleko said under his breath.
"You look as if you have seen difficult days... and lived to tell about them," Del said. "We welcome your aid."
"The neogi are not kind to their slaves," the lizard woman hissed, touching the scar on the side of her head. "Especially not those who see the open skies and dare to dream of freedom." She looked at the vessel drifting ahead of them and her scales flushed with bridled emotion.
A similar rush of adrenalin surged through Del at the prospect of exploring the deathspider. He could get a closer look at what he surmised, from this distance, to be a weapons platform of some kind, although one unlike any that he'd seen before. It looked like a ballista, but it lacked a bow. What was the ship made of? He could see no seams in its construction. How did it move? Certainly not by those gossamer bits of webbing that festooned its hull. Enduring the icy stares of Grawl's crew he had surreptitiously studied as much as he could of the Dire Hag. The Neogi Deathspider seemed far more compelling and Del smiled, envisioning a shipyard full of such vessels.
But the reality of the situation reigned in his enthusiasm. It was highly unlikely that such a vessel would simply be abandoned. Given what Jinissi had told them, it had a significant crew. Where were they now? And why were they not reacting to the Dire Hag's presence?
"Captain," Maleko said hoping to appeal once more to the githyanki warrior's pride in his power and rank, "some of the equipment we gave you for this voyage would be useful to us at this time. If we could have them back for this mission we would increase our chances of bringing you what you desire." Grawl made eye contact with the elf giving him hope of success. Maleko added looking in awe at the ship, briefly peeking to see Grawl's reaction to his comments, "I think that this is a great treasure and you would achieve great prestige if you were to help us obtain it. It certainly would be exhilirating to fly such a magnificent vessel as a Neogi Deathspider."
"Think of the tactical advantages such a vessel would afford. With a Deathspider always at your flank, no one would dare to oppose you," Del added, seeking to bolster Maleko's argument. "You could turn your enemies with a mere showing of force and save your own ship the wear and tear of battle."
"You are Clueless!" Grawl snapped. "Flying a Deathspider will invite attack from every vessel on the Astral Sea! The Githyanki would strike at us on sight! As would the Illithids. Even other neogi vessels would hunt us!"
"Then what are we doing here?" Cerrakean growled. "Why risk approaching the thing if it's worthless?" The captain shook his head, smiling ruefully.
"It's not worthless, you prime-bound idjits!" he told her. "There's armaments, an' cargo to be salvaged. Not to mention the Helm, for The Lady's sake!"
"The Helm?" Maleko prodded; he could almost hear the capital letter in Grawl's words.
"Aye, elf. The Helm," he confirmed with a nod. "Have you not wondered what makes ships sail on the Astral Sea? There's no wind to speak of, or had you not noticed that?"
"I noticed," Del said quickly and Grawl rolled his eyes.
"Every ship requires a Helm to power it," the captain said. "It's thought that propels a body on the Astral. But there's limits to what a single mind can haul under its own power... unless you've got a Helm." Maleko looked again at the Deathspider.
"And this Helm is valuable?" he observed.
"If it can be removed... and if you know where to sell it," Grawl told him warily.
"Well, to secure it, you should be willing to give us temporary use of the items we gave you as payment for passage then," the elf suggested in a perfectly reasonable tone but the captain shook his head.
"You ask too much, elf," he told him. "Those items were part of a separate negotiation. You'll not be seein' them again so let's speak no more of it. Either you're willin' to go or you're not. Now what's it to be?"
This time it was Del's turn to bristle. He hadn't the stomach for Grawl's condescension. "May I remind you, sir, that you are still under our employ. Your ship has been brought to a standstill." He gestured to the crew. "Your men are afraid. They won't maraud a Neogi deathspider for you. Yet you would send us to do your scutwork without the full support of our protections, and lay claim to what we find?" Grawl turned to look at the half-elf as if he couldn't believe what the man was saying.
Jinissi took a surreptitious step away from Del, keeping her one eye on the captain.
"If we decline this proposition, what do you intend? To turn around and go back?" Del went on, not noticing the growing tension in the crew as he kept his attention and ire focused on the githyanki. "That outcome is certain - you will have nothing of the reward. You have just as much as stake in a successful endeavor as we do. Hand over the magic items and take their worth out of what we find."
Captain Grawl scratched at his leathery chin and turned away from Del, shaking his head. He reached out and took a short length of chain off of Shroud's body. He held it in his two hands as if weighing it and then tossed it onto the deck.
"You make an interestin' argument, prime. An' you've a lot of opinions about me an' my crew an' how things ought to run on my ship," the captain said, his tone even, but his demeanor menacing. "But there's only one way things run on the Dire Hag and that's MY way!" He made a gesture with his hand and Shroud's eyes and mouth glowed more brightly.
At the same moment, the short length of chain the captain had dropped onto the deck in front of Del twisted and writhed like a snake, growing impossibly long as it reared up from the boards. If Del had had a weapon in hand, he might have been able to swat the thing away, but his hands were empty and so it wrapped twice around his body almost before he knew what was happening. He squirmed to get some leverage, but then his arms too were encircled in chains and he was pinned.
"Don't hurt our 'employer', Shroud. It's not his fault he's so ignorant," Captain Grawl said as he stepped up to Del. The githyanki gestured at the silver vastness around the ship. "Look around you, boy. There's no law out here but my own. The way I see it, my offerin' to re-negotiate was more kindness than I had to show. So you'll either explore the deathspider or you won't, but either way this is where you're gettin' off this ship. The question really is, will you be gettin' back on again."
"Well I guess we go explore the deathspider, Del," Maleko said nervously. Held immobile by the length of chain, Del managed a single small nod.
"Sounds good," he croaked, looking sideways at the elf. "Let's do it."
"See now, Shroud," Captain Grawl sneered. "All we needed to do was find the proper means of persuadin' our 'employers' and they jumped to right quick!" He signaled to the kyton and the chain holding Del dropped to the deck and slithered back to the devil like a snake. It wound its way up Shroud's leg and disappeared amongst the other links.
Del, bent slightly with hands on knees, breathing heavily. "We'll need to collect our weapons and armor," he said after a moment and Grawl smiled, indicating the hatch to below decks with a flourish of false gentility.
"Of course you do," he said.
"I imagine that Grawl's happy to be rid of us," Del said as he tightened a strap on his chainmail. Maleko nodded without looking up from his packing.
"We went to the well once too often challenging Grawl," he sighed. "We gave him little choice by questioning his knowledge and decisions so many times."
Del turned on the elf, tossing his scabbarded longsword onto Maleko's bed as he did so.
"Questioning his knowledge?" he snapped, incredulous. "He stopped his ship upon seeing the deathspider; no attack forced him to abandon his course. Then he suggests you and I take the risk of securing the ship - a ship they won't even approach? And for what? Nothing more than we could carry? That's trollsh*t. We did nothing more than press him for our gear - a reasonable thing given what he was suggesting we do." Maleko ignored his companion's outburst, and busied himself with his gear. Near the door, Cerrakean snorted.
"I am not one to turn down a potential fight but I have recently learned to be somewhat more humble," she observed and crossed her arms. "Seems to me that spidership is a bad ass trap waiting for some unsuspecting dolts and this "captain" is simply looking for a bit of amusement. If we die, he loses nothing and if we live, he gains."
"I think that your assessment of the captain's motive is correct," Maleko told her. "He seeks maximum profit for the least risk. It is a common motivation among businessmen." Del snorted.
"So Grawl's a businessman, now?" he asked. "And if we opt to end the bargain now without that final payment, would he be that much more motivated to just kill us outright?"
"Perhaps," Maleko said. "Sometimes you can predict a man's actions by the actions of the ones surrounding him. But I'm not sure that will help us here."
"Well then, do we pay him and let him go which probably means he drops out of the picture until there are spoils to commandeer?" Del asked. "Or do we explore the deathspider as he wants?"
"If the two of you want to explore that ship, I will fight with you. And I am quite sure we WILL be fighting," Cerrakean assured them, stretching like a lion. "But seems to me we are better off heading off this ship on our own." Del nodded, considering.
"We are where we needed to be, more or less. And I agree, we're better off without him," the half elf told them as he strapped on his longsword. "But, as much as I hate to say this, we probably shouldn't burn that bridge any more than it already is. Maybe Grawl would step in to assist us if it meant saving his investment."
"Perhaps," Maleko said again. Then he lowered his voice and added. "I've been considering the possibility of taking the deathspider as our own to cruise the astral."
"It's like no ship I've ever seen. Could you pilot such a thing?" Del asked, his own volume matching Maleko's. The elf shrugged easily, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed his underlying excitement with the possibility.
"I won't know until I see it," he said. "Up close." Del met the elf's eyes and grinned at his companion's barely-contained enthusiasm.
Shaking his head ruefully he said, "I too would like to explore the deathspider, but I'm a little concerned that we'll have no cover while approaching it. Unless we have invisibility spells or something." He looked at Maleko and the elf shook his head. "Well we need to have a plan; rremember what the neogi are famous for. I don't want to end up like Jinissi. Any ideas?"
"Not to put too fine a point on it, Marshall," Cerrakean said as she dug in her ear with her pinkie finger. "But isn't that your job? You can point me at the bad guys an' be sure that I'll take 'em down, but I'm not much of one for planning." Del sighed.
"Well whatever the plan, we need be on our guard," he said. "if we decide to go ahead and explore that deathspider, you can be certain Grawl will attack us when we're through."
Using Jinissi's knowledge of the deathspider's layout, Del was able to formulate a quick plan of approach that left them exposed to enemy fire for the least amount of time. Short of magic that they didn't have, however, there was no way to traverse the distance between the two ships without any exposure at all, so it was a tense "sprint" across the void for all of them.
The lizard woman went first, followed by Del, Maleko, and Cerrakean. Jinissi was slow even in flight, and Del was obliged to slow his own pace lest their ranks bunch up and present too tempting a target to any area of effect spells. He'd seen Flame Strikes and Cloudkills take out entire units of troops on the battlefield and although the astral sea required that he think in an entirely new set of dimensions, he knew that the same risk from spellcasters would apply.
They made the rush from ship to ship without incident, alighting on a balcony that ran along the middle of the swollen "belly" of the spider ship. There was a nearly invisible door set in the hull and Jinissi crouched down beside it and unfurled a leather bundle of shiny metal tools. Using these she quickly went to work on a lock that was cunningly concealed in the hull beside the door.
While she worked Del had a few moments to study the hull closer and he was amazed. The entire ship appeared to be made of some sort of smooth ceramic material... or perhaps it really was the carapace of a gargantuan spider. Whatever the case, it looked to be without seam that he could spot. Even the balcony on which they stood seemed to grow directly from the main hull itself without a break. He couldn't even begin to imagine the feat of shipbuilding necessary to construct such a vessel.
A soft click from the door drew him back to the task at hand and he look at Jinissi just as the lizard woman was rolling up her bundle of tools. She stood and her tongue flicked the air.
"I disabled the trap on this door," she told them in a sibilant whisper. "The inner doors should be clean apart from the officers' quarters on the middle deck. Beware opening one unless I've checked it first." Cerrakean chuckled softly.
"Lizard girl, any desire to explore beyond this ship?" the hobgoblin said quietly. "You would be welcome to join us, in my opinion." Jinissi turned her one eye on Cerrakean and a transparent eyelid blinked quickly across it.
"No," she said with simple finality and the hobgoblin shrugged.
"Be ready," Del said. "Remember that these neogi can dominate your mind. But focus on the task at hand and I'm sure that you'll find the Force of Will to resist them."
"Oh, I'll focus on the task at hand all right," Cerrakean grinned and drew her scimitars.
Del looked at Maleko and the elf nervously licked his thin lips once then nodded. The wand he gripped in one hand was steady; the longsword in his other was not but Del did not mention it. Instead he nodded to Jinissi and the lizard woman pressed a hidden catch causing the door to spring open.
It slammed forcibly into Del, almost sending him toppling backward over the balcony's railing. Maleko lashed out a steadying arm, righting the half-elf before he fell. A massive creature flopped out through the door and Cerrakean darted forward, stabbing with her scimitar so quickly that Del didn't even see the sword move. It was just suddenly buried half-a-foot into the head of what Del assumed was an umber hulk. It was large and covered with chitinous armor and stiff, bristling hair. Its head bore a pair of mandibles that were the equal of Cerrakean's scimitars in size. Two pairs of eyes, one small and humanoid, the other large and multi-facetted like an insect, dominated the rest of the skull. The hobgoblin's blade had sunk into the rightmost eye, shattering it in the process.
The blow would have killed it if it hadn't been already dead.
The shell of its armored chest was covered with cracks and bore a rent on one side from which ichor-slicked meat protruded. There were half a dozen scorched holes pock-marking its breast and shoulder.
"Magic Missile strikes," Maleko assessed with a glance.
"It hasn't been dead long," Cerrakean told them and started to move through the hatchway to the ship's interior, but Jinissi managed to slither through ahead of her.
The only warning of the attack was nine musical notes whistled from the darkness. Then a flying kick sent Jinissi staggering backward onto the balcony. She collided with Cerrakean and the hobgoblin kept her on her feet.
Her attacker appeared in the doorway, a point of sudden stillness amidst a swirl of black fabric. His face was pale as milk, and strangely formed with only the barest suggestion of a nose and eyes like liquid night. He smiled and extended one hand in a beckoning gesture.
Behind him those whistled notes came again, this time followed by a man's voice singing, "Everybody was Kung-Fu fighting!"
Maleko raised his wand and spoke the command word sending four Magic Missiles arcing unerringly into the cloaked figure's chest. The man yelped and tumbled out of the doorway. Cerrakean slipped passed Jinissi and headed into the spider ship after him.
The interior of the deathspider was lit only dimly by light from the doorway and from an interior chamber to the center right. The bulk of the chamber was taken up by strapped down cargo, so much of it that Cerrakean did not have an unobstructed view of the far side of the room despite the fact that it was only about forty feet across. The cloaked man was not ten feet from the door, clutching at his chest where Maleko's magic had struck him.
"You want to dance, pasty?" she asked, taking a step toward him. Then she noticed the second figure - the twin of the first in every way - moving amidst the boxes of cargo.
He stood and, waving a feather, said, "An orc walks into a bar with a parrot on his shoulder and the bartender says: 'Wow, that's really neat. Where'd you get it?'...'In Mordor,' the parrot replies. 'They're all over the place down there!"
Cerrakean felt the magic take hold of her mind, despite the lingering echo of Del's instructions to not fall prey to such attacks. Lips twitching she dropped to her knees and from there to her side where she lay, clutching her stomach and twisting with laughter that sounded more like shrieks of pain than mirth.
Lying on the floor, she saw a third figure step out of the inner room. She was short with dark hair and had her face painted to resemble a skull. Four fist-sized spheres of light floated around the woman's head, and Cerrakean saw gems of various colors glittering in her hair.
"We've got more trouble," the woman said over her shoulder. Then she drew a scimitar and started forward.
All Cerrakean could do was watch her come.
Then she was suddenly lying outside on the balcony and Del was standing where she'd been. The skull-faced woman looked surprised as the half-elf appeared and swept his longsword around in an arc that connected with her midsection, drawing a bloody line across her belly. She tried to invoke some kind of magical protection but nothing happened and she shrieked in pain instead.
"You'll pay for that, pirate!" she snarled, green eyes flashing in the glow from her floating lights. Del saw them flick toward something behind him and then he heard Jinissi hiss to his left. She threw a dagger at one of the two men and it nicked his arm before sailing off into the darkness beyond.
Outside on the balcony, Maleko knelt beside Cerrakean and quickly checked her over. There was nothing he could do for her, unfortunately.
"It's Tasha's Hideous Laughter," he told the hobgoblin. "Try to remain as calm as you can. It shouldn't last long." Then he stood and hurried toward the open doorway Peering around the corner, he saw the lizard woman scuttling into the shadows behind some crates to his left while ahead and to the right Del squared off against a woman wearing a cloak trimmed in cloth-of-gold and cut in style that had been popular half a decade ago. On his far right, he saw the man he'd earlier injured casting a spell and looking at Del.
Before Maleko could issue a warning, a translucent bone-white fiddle bow appeared behind Del and sank into his flesh. It tried to saw back and forth, as if attempting to play him like a fiddle, but the half-elf was made of sterner stuff than expected and the spell dissipated without effect.
"You'll have to do better than that, neogi scum!" Del shouted at the spellcaster, while never taking his eyes off the woman before him. Or rather he didn't until the angel stepped out of the inner room. Then his eyes did stray.
The angel was dressed in armor the metallic green of a fly's belly with a glowing brand in one hand and a shield that reflected that light like a mirror in the other. Wings of platinum-gilt feathers arched from his shoulders seeming to glow in their own right. His eyes were like two tiny green lanterns set in an inhumanly perfect face as he regarded the scene with a grim scowl.
"What new treachery is this?" he growled. "Speak quickly, raiders, or be judged solely on your actions!"
Del felt the immediate, icy fingers of doubt tighten in his gut. He lowered his sword slowly, confusion playing across his face. How could a celestial be in league with the neogi slave traders?
The angel squared his shoulders and stood tall, striding forward into the fray as if he had no doubt that he would be respected. He was actually a little shorter than Del, but his presence was immense; he seemed to fill the room.
"Jinissi, are these Neogi?" Maleko hissed from the doorway. But he could no longer see the lizard woman. She had vanished amidst the shadows and if she replied or even heard him he did not know.
“Yield now! I am an Officer of Umba and you will face my justice,” he said, raising the burning brand, which Del now saw was actually a glowing morningstar. The half-elf's eyes swept the room, searching out the woman with the skull painted face he had just slashed. She was breathing heavily a pace or two behind the celestial, clutching her abdomen and glowering hatefully at Del.
“Choose now, for my judgment will be swift if your intentions are not made clear,” the angel warned, his eyes burning into Del like emerald fire.
Confused, Del noted and reviewed the reactions of those they had just encountered.
It was possible...
Maleko was quicker with his response.
"We thought you to be hostile towards the ship we were on and went to explore to protect our interests," the elf said, stepping into the ship slowly, his hands at his side. "Neogi are feared tryants and you are using their ship. Any creature who rides in this type of ship will draw the wrath of many races based on their reputation. We are men of peace on a quest to find some of our men from the prime material plane."
“Fool… drop your weapon and silence yourself," the celestial commanded. "Do you honestly think an Officer of Umba would use a foul transport such as this? Why do you think you find it barren so?”
Maleko's mouth opened slightly and his eyes darted around in their sockets as he mentally put together the Officer of Umba's words with the evidence they'd seen so far.
“I will not ask again," the celestial said, grim-faced. "Yield!”
They did and the celestial lowered his morningstar.
"That's it?" one of the cloaked men scoffed.
"Did you see what they did to J'inn?" the other asked, incredulous. "And just look at your sorceress!"
The angel turned his head slightly to regard the woman and his features softened to show genuine concern. "Ixin, are you well?" he asked.
"I'll live, Ayremac," she said, casting a contemptuous glance at Del made all the more menacing by virtue of her face paint. "The saurivaecaesin got a lucky hit in. It's only a flesh wound." The Officer of Umba nodded and Del drew a Potion of Cure Light Wounds from his belt, offering it to the dark-haired woman.
"Perhaps this will ease your pain?" he said and Ayremac turned an appraising eye on him.
"We will hear from these men," the celestial said. "And we will learn of their intentions. And then we will pass judgement."
"Morier, who is this man and what exactly is it he wants?" Saelus asked his companion while keeping his eyes trained on the githyankis and others in the vicinity. He did some quick tactical calculation regarding the feasibility of fighting his way out of this situation.
The preliminary numbers did not look good.
"Surely you told your friend about our fateful meeting and the subsequent business in Colybury?" Dr. Akerman said, drifting forward slightly as he spoke. Morier clenched his teeth, inwardly cursing himself for falling so easily into Akerman's trap.
"It must have slipped my mind," the eldritch warrior grumbled and Akerman made a tut-tut sound.
"What a pity. People have no grasp of what they do," the loremaster said to Olimir. Anger touched his face then and he turned back to Morier. "That day in Colybury was the most important day of your short, violent life, elf! You saw divinity in those streets... the very stuff of creation! A wiser man would have taken heed of what he'd seen there. But you? You let it slip your mind!"
"My, my, my... Morier, you know how to kick some dust up, now don't you?" Saelus said raising an eyebrow towards Morier and slowly drawing a graven Rod from his belt. The albino caught the action and nodded once.
"Sorry I missed the significance," Morier said to Akerman. "I must have been distracted by you acting like a carrion crow, picking at the corpse of a madman looking for something shiny!" Akerman's lips snapped shut into a tight line.
"You sound like that rat-loving druid now, Morier. I expected better of you," the loremaster snapped. "Enough banter! I want the sword and you will give it to me now!"
Sword? Morier made a staying gesture to Saelus and looked up at Akerman in confusion.
"You know we don't have the samsara sword," he said. "You were there when Ayremac took it to wherever he went."
"Frothingham!" Akerman spat as if the very word tasted foul. "He took it to the temple of Umba in Frothingham and the short-sighted fools destroyed it! An original Brypur Vutha-isk! Bathed in Rhianne's blood and forged before the Witch King fell! Broken upon an altar to the very god who was birthed by Rhianne's death!"
"So the samsara sword is no more," Morier replied. "Then what sword are you talking about?"
"Don't act coy, Morier," Akerman cautioned, fixing the albino with a dubious stare. "Surely you noticed the similarities between the samsara sword and the one you carry even now?" The mage pointed at Ravager with his staff. "It too was forged by Brypur Vutha-isk and bathed in godsblood. And as such it belongs in the archives at the Sepulcher of Heaven."
Morier raised his eyebrows and glanced at the hilt of the sword in question. He'd taken it after Ledare died battling Blackheart. Where she'd gotten it, he didn't know. And frankly if parting with the blade kept them out of a much more significant situation, he didn't much care.
"While I can admit no significant attachment to this particular weapon, I have to say that your methods leave at least a little to be desired, Akerman," the albino said, looking up at the wizard and his entourage. Akerman made a dismissive gesture.
"You seem a reasonable fellow, Morier. I admire your pragmatism. If I'd known it were just going to be you with whom I dealt then I might well have approached you differently," the doctor explained. "I expected to contend with the other... less visionary members of your troop. And so I took some precautions." He indicated the githyanki surrounding him and smiled.
"After the way that the druid treated me in Colybury I don't think you can blame me for expecting the worst of our meeting," Akerman added and gestured fleetingly at Saelus. "What's become of your former traveling companions?"
"They've taken a different path," Morier said quickly and Akerman nodded.
"Just as well for you that they have," the loremaster told him. "Viewpoints as extreme as theirs tend to have an unreasonably polarizing effect."
"Even still, I am, as you said, a reasonable man," Morier replied. "And surely you must understand that any good warrior worth his weight needs a weapon that he can rely on to do something for him." The doctor shrugged.
"My arena is the library. I make no pretense of being a warrior," he told the albino and gestured again to the githyanki. "Hence my reason for surrounding myself with worthies such as these."
"In your travels you must have come across something you're willing to part with in exchange for this one," the eldritch warrior suggested and Akerman nodded gravely.
"Ah... I see. You're proposing a trade?" he asked and Morier nodded. "Alas, I have nothing with which to barter. All of the funds that Memento Mori gave me for this mission went to secure the githyanki's assistance. But Gisir Okemocik has an extensive collection of weaponry. Perhaps you can reach some sort of arrangement with him?" The wizard looked hopefully at the lead githyanki and the leader narrowed his eyes.
"Perhaps," the githyanki said turning his eyes to Morier.
"But even if the Gisir makes some sort of deal with you, Morier. I'm afraid that's outside the bounds of our discussion," Dr. Akerman said in an apologetic tone. "Either you'll give me the sword or the githyanki will give it to me after they've destroyed you. Either way, I will have it. The question is whether you want to leave Akiv-tchai alive or not."
"Funny thing, that last little clause you mentioned," Morier laughed and stepped back till he was flanking Saelus. "I find it funny anyway." Akerman looked at him quizzically.
"I'm sorry, you've lost me," he told the eldritch warrior. And Morier shrugged.
"You see I had just brought myself around to the conclusion that your willingness to barter might well have been the only thing preventing me from having to kill you, which honestly, I have no true desire to do, but will do so to protect myself," the albino explained. "Such an educated man as yourself must see the irony in it, that we have both established each other as 'reasonable men', given that you have decided to kill me to take what you want, and I have decided to kill you to stop you taking from me what is no more rightfully yours than it is mine. And we could both get what we want without the risk of either of us dying, if you hadn't thrown that last clause in."
"You misunderstand me, Morier," the doctor said. "If other means were an option, then I would gladly barter with you for the sword. But Loremaster Starsoul tasked me to retrieve the weapon and presented me with a sum of coin to do so. Unfortunately I have spent that sum to secure these githyanki retainers and-"
"Shut Akerman up for a few seconds," Saelus mumbled to Grandfather Plaque and, sensing his intention the construct pursed his stone lips sending four Magic Missiles flying unerringly into Dr. Akerman's chest. Even as the wizard staggered backward, Morier touched his own chest and Called a Lightning Storm into being. He pointed at Akerman and a bolt of Lightning shot down at the man from the ceiling, striking an unfortunate githyanki warrior in the process. The githyanki was blown apart by the bolt, but Akerman dodged out of its path, singed by its passing, but largely uninjured.
Saelus followed Morier's attack with a Quickened Sandstorm spell, centered just behind the main body of the opposition. The magical cloud of swirling sand extended over the prow of the ship, but it didn't really deter Saelus. He moved there and extended a hand to the crystal that governed the ship's motion, trying to gain control of it as Morier severed the mooring lines.
Grandfather Plaque, unable to see his opponents any longer opened his mouth wide and Shouted into the cloud of dust and grit. The effects of the sonic attack were not immediately apparent, but he did not eliminate their enemies entirely, for a moment later the githyanki leader flew from the cloud, and extended a hand at the boat. A cone of glowing Doom Scarabs washed over the three companions, opening numerous bleeding wounds on Saelus' and Morier's exposed flesh. Grandfather Plaque seemed unaffected and Morier did not seem nearly as hurt as the colonel.
Three of the githyanki warriors emerged from the cloud, but they were too far away to do anything but brush sand from their eyes and get their bearings. The two sergeants appeared next, one of them warded by some sort of magic that clung close to his body. The other pointed his sword at Morier and fired at him a pair of Scorching Rays. The eldritch warrior shielded his face reflexively, but he needn't have worried as the fiery rays dissipated harmlessly against his spell resistance.
Morier retaliated by Calling a Lightning bolt down onto the man. He twisted away from the worst of it, but still took some electrical damage from the bolt's passing.
"Get us out of here!" the albino shouted to Saelus, and the war wizard complied by forcing the ship backward so fast that Morier nearly toppled over the side. The colonel held his hands over the glowing crystal, but he was looking backward over his shoulder at the doors leading out. He slammed into the two githyanki guards who had been closing with them, killing them both, and continued on, ramming the boat full speed into the rightmost door. The stern struck hard, gouging a minor dent in the wood, and sending shockwaves through the small craft that finally did upset Morier's balance, knocking him prone against the bottom of the boat. Saelus lurched forward and caught himself on the prow, maintaining his balance by the slimmest of margins. In horror, he looked at the door, and saw that it was still soundly closed and looked like it could take several more such blows before giving way.
"Can you do anything about these doors?" the colonel asked Morier and the albino considered for a heartbeat before nodding. "Good, because-"
Saelus' words died in his mouth as the rush and hiss of swirling sand abruptly stopped. Akerman hovered across the chamber, his hands held in the final somatic gestures of the Dispel Magic he'd just used to eliminate the colonel's Sandstorm. With the cloud gone, they could see the rest of the opposition. The githyanki that Morier had hit with a lightning bolt hung dead and smoking in the air, while off to the left and a bit below him, two of his fellows and the boatman, Olimir, writhed, clutching their bleeding ears, victims of Grandfather Plaque's Shout. The remainder were battle-ready and spreading out into formations.
"Oh dear!" Grandfather Plaque exclaimed and peppered Akerman with another barrage of Magic Missiles.
The githyanki leader barked out a command and charged the boat, his greatsword flashing. He brought his sword down onto the prone Morier's shoulder, and although the eldritch warrior's armor absorbed some of the impact, keeping Morier's arm attached to his torso, it could do nothing to eliminate the Shocking Grasp spell the githyanki channelled through the sword. Luckily, his spell resistance could, and the electrical attack fizzled uselessly.
One of the two sergeants cloaked himself in protective magics, while the other pointed a sword at Saelus and hit him with a Ray of Enfeeblement. The colonel felt himself weaken to the point where he could no longer support the weight of his armor. Encumbered, he slumped forward, borne to the bottom of the boat beside Morier as the two githyanki moved into flanking positions.
"You will yield or this one dies," one of them barked out in the common tongue.
Morier stared up at the githyanki snarling down at him, its greatsword poised to strike. He could hear Saelus cursing and grunting with his effort to move and knew that there were two more githyanki that he couldn't see quite close by. Sitting up, he stripped off the scabbarded bastard sword and tossed it over the side of the boat.
"Take the gods damned sword, you parasite!" he cursed at Akerman. The most basic tennet of Morier's eldritch training had taught him not to let his anger get in the way of his judgement in battle, and he realized that was precipitously close to a breaking point. But the stakes were too high right now, and he felt as though some humility at the moment might be the only option to keep Ackerman from getting far more than he bargained for out of Morier. "Take it and run, far, far away. And hope against all hope that our paths never cross again."
"I doubt that they will." the githyanki captain sneered menacingly at Morier.
The colonel, pinned against the bottom of the boat, tried to surreptitiously cast a spell, the shout of warning followed by a searing pain as a longsword pierced his shoulder told him that his bluff had failed. Thankfully, with the spell Quickened, he was able to cast it before being struck, and he felt some of his lost strength returning to his limbs.
"Morier, it was you who attacked first," Akerman shouted. "I wanted this to go peacefully. But now-"
"Now, they belong to the githyanki," the commander said, still keeping his sword pointed menacingly at Morier. "Now they will go before the Gisir for judgement."
"W-what?" Akerman sputtered. "That was not part of our arrangement!"
"That deal was struck before they killed three of my men," the leader said. "I will have to answer to the Gisir for those deaths and I will not go before him without the guilty parties in hand."
"We belong to no one," Saelus said as he slowly heaved himself to his knees. "You are all parasites, trying to get your way by intimidation, thinking we would be compliant."
"You will be compliant. Or you will be dead," the leader said. "And if you are intimidated by us, do not feel shame. We are githyanki and you are only a crude human, after all." The colonel regarded the leader defiantly, standing straight despite the fact that he was flanked by the two githyanki sergeants.
"You all started the offensiveness by trying to imprison us under false pretenses," Saelus said. "If you would have but asked for the sale of the weapon without covertness, we might have been more willing not to spill any gith blood or otherwise.."
"Do not confuse the githyankis' actions with those of Dr. Akerman," the leader cautioned. "We agreed to this tactic because we have a long-standing trade agreement with Memento Mori and the payment was adequate. Our methods are more... straightforward." Morier got to his own feet, gesturing disgustedly at Dr. Akerman.
"Had your gracious benefactor over there been straightforward with anyone about what he was doing from the start, this entire operation would have been unnecessary," he told the leader meeting the githyanki's cold black eyes. "If you're suddenly overcome by a need to bring everyone to justice, you can't possibly overlook the man who made all of this possible. Bring Akerman before the Gisir too." The loremaster let out a startled shout and began drifting closer.
"Now wait just a minute," he began, but Saelus cut him off, emboldened by both Morier's suggestion and Akerman's reaction to it.
"It was the false pretense Akerman instigated that led to your men's deaths, so if anyone is to blame for the whole debacle he is," Saelus said, looking seriously at the captain. "Akerman is the instigator of all this and therefore as responsible as we are for defending our own right and lives because of his machinations." The captain considered this and then looked at Dr. Akerman.
"And what do you have to say about this?" he asked the mage and Akerman snorted.
"You know Memento Mori would never intentionally harm one of your men. We've been business partners with the githyanki for decades," the loremaster said and the captain nodded. "I think that they are saying whatever they can to lessen their own burden of responsibility."
"I think you are correct," the githyanki replied. "But I also think that they raise a good point. If you had let us execute my plan we could have killed them and taken the sword without incident. Instead, you orchestrated this elaborate ambush because you did not want their blood on your conscience. Well now you have the blood of three githyanki warriors there instead." The mage gulped audibly.
"Now hold on, Perragourp," Akerman stammered. "You don't want to anger Loremaster Starsoul. Your Gisir has enjoyed a very profitable arrangement with Memento Mori and- "The captain held up a hand.
"This is a matter that must be decided by Gisir Okemocik," Perragourp said. "It is beyond my area of expertise." He made a circling gesture with his hand and barked out an order to his men.
Of the companions, only Grandfather Plaque understood the Gith tongue: "Take them! Take them all!"
"I don't fancy the thought of being weaponless," Saelus admitted, causing the captain to pause and look back at the man over his shoulder. "No githyanki would want to be weaponless."
"You presume much comparing yourself to githyanki, human. No githyanki would allow himself to be captured thus," the commander snarled turning to face the colonel. "You are no githyanki."
"Even if we might be a lesser race in your eyes, surely you can understand the desire to maintain our honor by keeping our weapons and such," Saelus pressed, making the githyanki snarl and raise his greatsword. He aimed it at the colonel's throat, ready to stab it home.
"I need only bring one of you alive before the Gisir, human," Perragourp hissed, sighting down the length of his sword. "I could execute you now." Saelus met the githyanki's eyes and held them.
"You really shouldn't antagonize Olin Perragourp," Akerman cautioned, a note of fear in his voice. Saelus ignored him.
"I will comply to being brought before the Gisir if you but allow our honor to be kept in light of Akerman's failing to have any honor in his dealings," the war mage said and Perragourp's eyes narrowed. Then he let his sword drop and threw back his head.
"Ha!" he barked once. "I like you, human. The heart of a warrior beats beneath your soft skin. And because I like you I offer you an opportunity for githyanki justice." He gestured to the two warriors flanking Saelus. "If you can best one of my two sergeants in single combat then you and your companion may retain your honor and your sword. If you are beaten then your life and your honor are forfeit."
Saelus considered his own depleted strength and the steely look onthe faces of both githyanki sergeants before reaching his decision.
"I appreciate you having more honor now then Akerman will ever have in his entire life but I must politely decline your offer," the war wizard said, sheathing his sabre. As Saelus reluctantly unfastened his swordbelt, the githyanki captain sneered at him.
"Pathetic," Perragourp growled. "You are a joke. A parody of a warrior. Nothing more."
Saelus bit back on his pride and offered up his weapons to the captain. "Take care of them till I get them back, please," he said and the githyanki let out that single barking laugh again.
"I think you are less the brave warrior and more the fool who does not realize the situation in which he finds himself," the captain said and gestured to his warriors to seize the two interlopers.
Morier, Saelus, and Akerman were manhandled through the far doors and into a corridor that was twenty feet wide, forty feet high and eighty feet long, opening ultimately into a wide entry hall with two rows of fat, stone columns running straight to another pair of heavy double doors - these made entirely of some unfamiliar gray metal. Two guards were stationed there and they banged on the doors as the group approached with its prisoners.
The doors yawned open into another impressive spherical chamber that seemed almost like a smaller version of the first room they'd been in. It lacked doors opening onto the astral plane, of course, and possessed no mooring platform, but its geodesic surface was carved everywhere with intricate bas reliefs of the githyanki at war. Four doors led off the chamber at various positions and a single, ten-foot wide corridor plunged into the depths of the outpost.
The prisoners were dragged to a door on the leftmost wall that let into a ten-sided chamber dominated by an enormous bat-winged throne flanked by a pair of worked columns. Each arm of the chair was carved into the shape of a snarling dragon, and a king's ransom of jewels glittered on the back of the throne. Seated there was a singular githyanki wearing elaborate filigree armor decorated with precious stones. A crimson crown seemingly made entirely of light shone on his sallow brow, its ruddy glow reflected on the edges of the numerous weapons mounted on the wall behind the chair. A huge silver greatsword of baroque design was propped casually against the arm of the throne.
The githyanki prostrated themselves before this figure and forced their prisoners to bend as well until the Gisir (for who else could it be) spoke a word and all were given leave to rise. Captain Perragourp then spoke at length to the Gisir in a language that neither Morier nor Saelus could fathom. If Akerman understood the exchange, he gave no indication, but merely stared resolutely ahead into the distance.
"The Gisir has reached his verdict," Perragourp said after what seemed like a long time in conference with his leader. "In deference to our long-standing partnership with Memento Mori and the duplicitous nature of our encounter, he has seen fit to show leniency."
Both Morier and Saelus let out a sigh of relief. Akerman, who was more familiar with the githyanki idea of lenience did not alter his demeanor.
"Over the next two days, there will be a trial by combat with opponents chosen by random lots," the githyanki went on. "The first two combatants will face off in mortal combat after vespers. The winner of that exchange will go on to face the third defendant after the next service following. The ultimate champion will go free."
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