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!
While Perragourp was pronouncing what amounted to a death sentence for at least two of the defendants, Morier looked about the room. He took inventory of which guards possessed which of his belongings that he would need if he was to escape. Too many items were in too many hands to get them all back together. He'd have to make some tough choices. He looked across the way at Saelus, absorbing the sudden sting of unpleasant realization: he couldn't get them both out of here.
The odds were insurmountable... He might be able to get himself free, but trying to save them both seemed a certain failure. Perhaps Saelus could avail himself of the circumstances Morier would create. He hoped so, but he simply couldn't take responsibility for both of them. Not now.
Whether the decision was cowardly or just was a question he could consider at length later - if there was a later. Perhaps the line was too fine to distinguish anyway. But the stakes had risen too high with his possession of Dridana's spark for him to be squeamish. Akerman's presence magnified the problem a million times.
He drew on the power of The Heart...
The Gisir, realizing what was happening, shouted out a warning and snatched up his greatsword in a single motion.
One of the two githyanki standing behind Morier brought his own greatsword up and then down intending to split the albino from crown to crotch, but the eldritch warrior twisted his body and the blade whistled down inches from him.
Perragrourp cursed and sent a Quickened Flame Bolt at the albino. Morier's innate spell resistance foiled much of the attack, but the conjured orb of flame struck him in the forehead nonetheless, disrupting the delicate matrix of power forming within The Heart and causing the Owl's Wisdom spell he'd been attempting to dissipate without effect.
It left behind a red burn mark on his pale forehead and a new sting of realization: maybe he wouldn't even be able to save himself...
The Gisir shouted out some kind of command and Morier was driven to the floor by a press of githyanki warriors. His face was forced roughly into the stone while his arms were twisted back. Neither caused him any injury; the Heart made him highly resilient although it did nothing to prevent him being pinned and held immobile. Looking through the chaotic storm of jaundiced limbs and wiry torsos, the albino saw Saelus trying to make use of the distraction and make good his own escape.
The war mage leapt on his nearest opponent, simultaneously seizing and drawing the githyanki's greatsword. Then he slashed downward with the blade, opening its belly in a single stroke that sent a cloud of blood billowing into the air as the githyanki collapsed in shocked horror. In the next instant, the colonel disappeared beneath a pile of githyanki warriors and though he struggled valiantly, he didn't do so for long.
[Interludes #10] What's a Nice Bunch Like You Doing in a Place Like This?
Ayremac looked from Del to Maleko and nodded slowly.
“In an effort to be diplomatic," he began, "my mission here is simply to purge this vessel. As you stated, association with a Neogi vessel is somewhat questionable in itself."
"Diplomatic?" Maleko scoffed. "Once you start with insults it's a bit late for diplomacy, don't you think? I can't say I am fond of being called a fool."
“I apologize for the unkind words," the Officer of Umba said. "With the threat of battle, I tend to fall back on the heavy weight of authority that can break the will of the common criminal. You are obviously not such a man, and no disrespect was intended.”
Del breathed easier at this and again offered his potion to Ixin.
"Are any more of you 'kung fu fighters' injured?" Maleko asked, stepping closer with his holy symbol of Nethlar displayed. "I assume that is what you call yourselves since that was the battle cry we heard."
"Yeah, we're hurt," the pale twins admitted in unison, stepping closer. One was gingerly probing his chest where Maleko's Magic Missiles had struck and the other was holding a bleeding gash on his arm from Jinissi's dagger.
"We did not see an Officer of Umba when we engaged you. I am relieved we did not kill any of your crew," Maleko apologized. "Were you prisoners here? Neogi are famous for their mind tricks; I was worried that you could be deceiving us." Ayremac looked at him impassively and touched the holy symbol of Umba worked into his breastplate.
"In the name of She Who Judges," he intoned and invoked his Sacred Healing ability. Ixin and the twins both visibly relaxed as the healing took hold and Ayremac turned his attention back to Maleko and Del.
"You needn't worry about deception from me" he said definitively. "Now what brings you here?”
"We mean to explore this, the ship of the alleged enemy neogi," Maleko explained, "and perhaps go back to the ship we came from with what we found here." Del immediately caught the significance of his friend's assertion that 'perhaps' they'd go back. He wondered what Jinissi thought of that statement and suddenly realized that she was nowhere in sight.
“There was another amongst your party…” Ayremac began, picking up on clues in Del's demeanor.
"One of our party is missing," Maleko said, only just noticing her absence. "Jinissi, the lizard folk. bears hostility towards Neogil she was their prisoner once and has lots of information about this ship. Come out please, Jinissi."
She did not come out and Ayremac glanced about for the lizard woman.
“Ixin, do you see the cloaked figure?” he asked.
"No," the skull-faced woman told him as her four globes of floating light spread out to better fill the cargo hold with illumination. "But I'll find her."
"Not likely," Cerrakean croaked from the hatchway leading out. "Not if she doesn't want you to find her." With a single motion the hobgoblin sheathed her scimitars across her broad back.
"Do not underestimate my abilities," Ixin snapped and Cerrakean snorted.
"It's not about you, sweetheart," the hobgoblin sneered as she hopped over the umber hulk corpse. "But I know her type and you're not gonna just trip over her in the dark."
"Perhaps you could assist in the search?" Ayremac suggested. He looked at one of the twins. "Perhaps you'd like to go as well, J'inn? To keep the two groups in contact?"
The three searchers moved off through a doorway that led deeper into the deathspider, leaving Ayremac, Del, Maleko and the second twin, J'ann, to exchange information.
“So you are in the service of a githyanki captain?" the holy warrior asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you pirates?” Del shook his head fiercely.
"No!" he said quickly. "We hired his ship and crew as transport on the Astral plane, but it has proven to be a difficult contract." Maleko nodded.
"He is a seasoned trader here, with his own code of conduct and a devil as a first mate," Del went on. J'ann, stepped forward.
"You came on the Dire Hag?" he asked, surprised. Del nodded and J'ann shook his head. "I'm surprised you made it this far. Grawl isn't known to follow the spirit of a contract."
"The only law out here is his law was how I believe he put it," Maleko smiled and saw the Officer of Umba's lip curl in disgust. "I do not know if Grawl is totally bad; he just has his own interests first and foremost."
"His interest in this vessel is not to be taken lightly," Del asserted and Ayremac turned his gaze on the half-elf.
"And just what is his interest?" the holy warrior asked.
"He wants us to commandeer this ship for him," Maleko answered simply. "But since it could be said that you were here first, it seems we have little right to take it from a just party."
"I have no desire for this evil vessel," the Officer of Umba said. "It's helm must be destroyed, but the rest belongs to the Buommans as far as I'm concerned." He indicated J'ann and the pale man nodded his thanks.
"Captain Grawl and his crew may not feel the same way," Maleko cautioned. "If we deal with him, I suggest you change your tone to be more polite. He would certainly not tolerate being called a fool."
"If this Grawl consorts with fiends, there will be no deals," Ayremac said flatly and Del and Maleko exchanged a glance.
"What have you found about the ship so far?" the elf asked, deflecting the conversation away from talk of the Dire Hag.
"It was all but deserted when we arrived," Ayremac said. "There was a single neogi on board and two of those umber hulks." He indicated the massive aberration wedged in the open hatchway. With a new note of icy bitterness in his voice he added, "Their slaves were all dead."
"Drained of life by the ship's Helm," J'ann explained. "Deathspiders use a Lifejammer Helm powered by the vitality of whoever's attached to it. There's a half-dozen withered husks on the bridge that used to be strapped into the thing."
"That's why the Helm must be destroyed," Ayremac said. "Ixin can burn it before we leave."
"What do you know of this ship and its crew and slaves?" Cerrakean asked, her voice a low whisper in the darkened hallway.
"The crew are all dead," Ixin replied, spreading out her Dancing Lights to show more of the corridor. "The slaves were all dead when we got here."
The hallway from the cargo hold sloped downward toward the front of the ship. Six doors were set in the walls, three on either side, and all were locked. Ixin sent a globe of light to the far end of the hall where another door stood, this one half open. "Those lights are just gonna alert Jinissi to our pursuit," Cerrakean grumbled and Ixin turned a sharp eye on her.
"You would have us stumble about in the dark?" the sorcerer snapped and Cerrakean shrugged her meaty shoulders.
"I can see just fine in the dark," the hobgoblin grinned. She turned to the Buomman and asked, "What about you, pasty?"
"I can see in darkness," he admitted. "And my name is J'inn."
"And I'll bet you a gold piece that Jinissi's got no trouble with the dark either," Cerrakean said, smiling at Ixin. "That just leaves you, sweetheart. You can hold J'inn's hand if you're scared."
"Do not mock me, trolblood!" Ixin snarled, raising the scimitar in her hand. "I am Ixin, daughter of Ventisjir the Red, granddaughter of Lady Dominor Corastrixarosvith of Clan Vermillion!"
"Sister, I don't care who you are," the hobgoblin said in a low purr. "But you want to put that sword away. There's not a spell-slinger alive who can cross blades with me and walk away." Ixin looked at her and curled her lip in disgust.
"This will not help us find the lizard woman," J'inn interceded. "That was our task, was it not?" Ixin sighed and looked at him, lowering her sword with a nod.
"Yes," she admitted. "Ayremac would not be pleased to see me let my pride get in the way of our success." Cerrakean raised an eyebrow.
"Are you and the angel...?" she let the question hang in the air, but the lascivious grin on her face left little doubt as to her intimation. Ixin shook her head.
"He stood by me when everyone else I cared about had given up on me," she said. "He has earned my respect and friendship. That is all." Cerrakean shrugged.
"Pity," she said. "He's real pretty to look at." Ixin turned her eyes away and changed the subject.
"I can dismiss the Dancing Lights if you think it will aid our cause," she said but Cerrakean shook her head.
"Don't bother," the hobgoblin replied. "Just keep 'em back and let me and J'inn go up front."
"J'inn has not found the lizardfolk yet," J'ann told Ayremac. "But it seems that she's heading for the bridge." The holy warrior considered the information and sighed.
"Let J'inn know that we're on our way," he said. "If they do find her tell them to contain her until I arrive."
"She's after the helm," Maleko said nervously.
"There is little that she can do alone," Ayremac confided. "The helm requires two to operate, and it's not like she can just remove it from the ship."
"That's Grawl's plan," Del told him as they started to move toward the door.
"Then he will be disappointed," Ayremac said.
Another umber hulk corpse lay slumped on the boarding deck. This one was visibly burned on one side of its body, and an unpleasant smell filled the area. A narrow staircase spiraled up into a hole in the ceiling. A pair of double doors were closed at the far end of the room, and two smaller hatches let out onto the "spider leg" grappling rams. The door on the left stood open and smoke was billowing around the opening.
"Smokestick!" J'inn announced when he looked at it.
"She's signaling the other vessel," Ixin guessed and Cerrakean nodded, gesturing to the staircase in the center of the room.
"Where's that go?" she asked.
"The bridge," Ixin told her as she and J'inn sealed the hatch. Cerrakean shot up the spiral stair at once into the domed chamber above.
It was an oval room twenty feet long by perhaps fifteen feet wide made, it seemed, entirely of glass. Two of the enormous, forward-thrusting spider legs flanked the chamber, and the main body of the ship rose up at the rear, giving Cerrakean a clear view of some type of ballista-like weapon mounted there. The chamber was dominated by what looked like a double-sided throne with a seat extending from each side of a central back. The whole was worked in a motif of interconnected bones and spider webs. The seat facing forward had a commanding view of the area in front of the deathspider and was cushioned in red velvet. The seat facing backward, however was unadorned and had a cage of bone that still held a shriveled humanoid corpse imprisoned within it. Half a dozen similarly desiccated humanoid corpses lay on the deck around the throne.
Jinissi was outside, clinging to one of the grappling rams beside her signal smoke. Beyond her, Cerrakean could see that the Dire Hag had maneuvered closer, and a boarding party that included the chain devil was making its way toward the deathspider.
"We're about to have company!" Cerrakean yelled down the stairwell and J'inn darted toward an exterior viewport. Ixin stepped back from the sealed door and crossed her arms.
"Let them come," she purred glowering at the hatch as if she could somehow see the boarders beyond.
"Remember why we are here, Ixin," Ayremac cautioned as he and the others entered the boarding deck. "Standing and dying for no good reason will not help us find the sword."
"Well whatever we're going to do we'd best do it quickly!" J'inn cried from his spot at the port. "We've got maybe 10 seconds before the boarding party's banging at the door!" Del looked around at the chamber, noted the presence of two of the ballistae-like weapons, and formulated a plan.
"Can you operate that weapon?" he asked J'inn and the Buomman looked at him strangely.
"Enough to fire it, I suppose," he answered. "Reloading it might be another matter, but..."
"Fine then!" Del cut him off. "You do that. Target the party first and then the ship if you can manage it." He looked at Ayremac and Maleko and asked, "Can we get this ship powered up?"
"I told you it's powered by-" Ayremac started to argue, but the marshall stopped him.
"I'll volunteer to act as the source," he said quickly. "And we're out of time to argue! Though I've never seen a ship powered this way, I have some nautical experience. Grawl has an entire crew and a ship at his disposal... we need to take advantage of our position here."
“Del, that sounds like a great plan," Ayremac conceded with a nod. Then he moved to join Ixin at the hatchway she and J'inn had just locked. "I will secure the door.”
"Okay, let's give this a try," Maleko sighed and started to follow Del up the stairs. "I really have no clue what I am doing, mind you."
There was a sudden roar as J'inn and J'ann fired the ballistae-like weapon. It rocked back violently, propelled by the explosion of fire belching from its muzzle. If it hadn't been contained by a pair of stout chains it would likely have ended up on the other side of the chamber.
As it was the deafening blast gave everyone pause until J'inn and J'ann, peering out through the port gave twin whoops of joy as they slapped hands.
"We got 'im!" they cried in unison.
Their shot, hurried and untrained though it was, still struck with deadly accuracy, impacting the kyton squarely and vaporizing his torso entirely. The shot then exploded into a mass of webbing that caught all of the surviving boarders in its entangling strands. Ayremac hurried over and looked out at the Buommans' handiwork.
"Well struck!" he congratulated them both.
"I still would feel more comfortable if we could block the entrance," Maleko said nervously. "Who knows where Jinissi is." Cerrakean slipped eel-like passed him on the stairs and vaulted down to the boarding deck.
"I do!" she barked. "She's outside on the hull."
"Well that's good," Maleko said, relieved and the hobgoblin raised an eyebrow.
"Is it?" she asked. "We already know that she can pick the locks on this thing. And I don't have a clue how many ways into the ship there are. Do you?"
"Not really," Maleko admitted. "But if we find her, perhaps I could help. I could Web her and then she would be easy to remove." The elf started back down the stairs but Cerrakean shot him a staying look.
"I can deal with Jinissi," she said. "That's what I'm good at. You stick to what you're good at and let me do my job." She cocked a thumb back up at the hole in the ceiling that led to the helm.
"We should all go take care of this situation," Maleko insisted. "I don't want the lizard woman catching any of us alone after this." Cerrakean's lip curled back from her fangs, but before she could say anything Ayremac spoke up.
"I’ll try and help Cerrakean rid us of our stow-away, Maleko," he said. “Meantime let's try to get this ship moving anyway. I think your plan to pilot the ship was a good one and we don’t want to be sitting ducks. If you want to try to get this thing moving, we may be able to at least give this pirate a challenge." The elf scowled but turned back up the stairs. After one step he paused and asked, "J'inn and J'ann, can you reload that weapon?"
"Maybe..." J'inn started.
"I've never done it before," J'ann finished.
"Why?" they said in unison and each cocked his head at Maleko in exactly the same way.
"I don't think Shroud is done for. If I am not mistaken, he will regenerate soon enough," the mage told them. "Mr. Jangles will not be happy when he comes 'round."
Ayremac paused at that announcement, considering. Then he turned to Cerrakean and asked, "You're sure you can handle Jinissi alone?" She looked at him like he was mad.
"Does an elf crap in the woods?" she asked and set about opening the hatch to the outside. Ayremac nodded at her back.
"Ixin, I don’t like the idea of you and I splitting up," he told his charge. "What say we head out and see if we can finish off that boarding party?”
"There will be justice," she said and Ayremac smiled at the zeal in her eyes. He'd had that same enthusiasm when he'd first read Umba's Writ.
"Maybe one of us should stay guard here in case the lizard woman comes back," Maleko suggested and Ayremac paused at the door as Cerrakean darted out into the silver void.
“Obviously, your party can do as it chooses," he told the elf and followed the hobgoblin outside. Ixin grinned at the mage and then she too disappeared outside.
Maleko sighed and Del called from the helm above, "Are you coming?"
Finishing off the boarding party was a simple matter. Ayremac called down a Holy Smite on the webbed mass of pirates and from the resulting cries of pain easily determined that every one of them trapped within was evil. Ixin came in close and spoke a quick word of benediction, "Umba's wisdom is infinite."
In the past, Ixin's draconic fundamentum was responsible for producing her dragonfire. It was as natural a thing for her as laughing and it used to bring her almost as much joy. But now, since returning from the samsara sword, she was wholly human and possessed no organ to generate her fiery breath. But regaining that power had been the focus of every free moment she had had in Frothingham and through hours of meditation and concentration she'd found a way to convert the energy from her spells into dragonfire. The higher the Circle of spell she sacrificed, the hotter her breath burned. She drew now on the power of a single 2nd Circle Valence, opened her mouth and breathed fire on them.
The effect was horrible and instantaneous. Most of the pirates were directly caught in the cone of flame and charred to a cinder at once. Some few of them were on the periphery of the mass, but they could not avoid the spreading flames as the Web burned. Weakened as they were by exposure to Ayremac's Holy Smite, they were swiftly immolated by the purging fire.
Cerrakean's prey wasn't nearly so cooperative. Jinissi was sneaky and knew her way around the Deathspider, so it was little wonder that the hobgoblin had trouble finding her. In truth, despite Cerrakean's earlier bravado she may well have never found Jinissi if the lizardfolk hadn't simply darted off the ship into the void. At first, Cerrakean couldn't figure out what she was doing, but then looking up, the hobgoblin noticed that the Dire Hag was turning away, executing a retreat from the scene.
Jinissi didn't want to be left behind.
But she was slow. Too slow as it turned out and Cerrakean caught up with her before she'd closed half the distance between the two ships. She struck the lizard woman scimitar-first in the back, opening a terrible wound there. Hissing, Jinissi looped around, trailing droplets of crimson as she came at the hobgoblin with her shortsword. The weapon stabbed out and drew a line of blood along the inside of Cerrakean's right thigh.
"Let me go," the lizard woman hissed, her long tongue tasting the air, but Cerrakean just snorted laughter.
"Not a chance, honey," she said and her two scimitars became a blur of motion as she sought some opening in her opponent's defense. She found none, and as Jinissi parried her last attack, the lizard woman hissed menacingly.
"You are not so skilled when facing an opponent rather than stabbing them in the back," she said and tried to bring her shortsword up into Cerrakean's belly. The hobgoblin batted the blade away with her own and slashed across Jinissi's left bicep with her other scimitar.
"Keep talking," the hobgoblin shot back as her opponent recoiled in pain. Cerrakean came in close and Jinissi stabbed her in the side.
"Oh, I will, wretch," the lizard woman laughed as hobgoblin blood leaked from the puncture in Cerrakean's gut. Cerrakean stopped the laughter short by slashing her across the snout.
Jinissi stabbed her again in the thigh.
Cerrakean opened a matching wound in Jinissi's.
The lizard woman reared back to drive her sword into Cerrakean's gut and the hobgoblin's two swords flashed out like a pair of scissors opening horrible wounds in Jinissi's throat. The lizard woman made a gurgling sound and clutched feebly at her ruptured neck, but she could do nothing to stem the flow of blood and after a moment she was still in the center of a crimson cloud.
"Try talking now," the hobgoblin growled, spitting on the corpse.
"This is taking too long," Del hissed through gritted teeth.
"Are you alright?" Maleko asked as he tried to get a sense for the strange controls governing the ship's movement. He stared at the spinning tangle of concentric circles and glowing nodes of light that hung in the air before him, and thought that at last he was seeing some logic to the display. The bright red hourglass at the core clearly represented the deathspider and if he could get it to tilt forward and to the left...
The entire ship shuddered and lurched forward, beginning a laborious turn to port.
"I'll be fine," Del panted behind him. "Just do what you have to do." If Maleko had been able to see the half-elf he might have thought differently. Cold sweat was streaming down the Marshall's ghastly white face, and his eyes were pressed tightly shut with the effort to keep his voice even despite the steady pain that came from being strapped into the lifejammer helm.
"Hold this heading," one of the twins hollered up from below.
"Can you close the distance any?" the other asked.
"I... I don't know," Maleko admitted. The controls were so... alien.
"Then just hold it right-" The cannon fired below followed an instant later by disappointed cursing.
"We missed," they yelled up. "And Grawl's ship is moving off."
"Do we pursue?" Maleko asked eagerly as he frantically moved his hands over the glimmering controls. "We've got them on the run!"
"No!" Del panted through gritted teeth. "We powered up this ship to help deal with Grawl's attack. If the Dire Hag is sailing away, I see no benefit in chasing it down at the physical expense of our own manpower."
"If we run though would it not appear to be that we are afraid? Perhaps letting me take my time to get the control of this ship would be good," the elf suggested, his attention rapt upon the controls. "We can't power it too long using ourselves. That's not a great plan, although it may work."
"I see no reason to run risks to hunt him down," Del groaned. "Unless you want to take a turn sitting in this seat." Maleko sat up with a start and rushed around to where the half-elf was imprisoned within the cage of the second throne. He began releasing him at once.
"You're right of course!" the mage said. "I do not want to power this ship with a person unless essential for our survival. Very brave of you, Del. Are you alright? I am sure it was excrutiating." Pale-faced and sweating, Del leaned forward in the chair breathing heavily.
"I'll live," he said tremulously. At that point Ayremac poked his head up through the hole in the floor.
“We may have won a bluff here," he said. "The ship is moving off with haste. I thought for sure the pirate captain would pursue, but he may think this ship is better manned that it is. Let's not give any evidence that it is not the case.”
"We have now made a life enemy of Grawl, I'm afraid," Del breathed and the holy warrior scowled.
"You look unwell," he said matter-of-factly. "Perhaps some rest is in order."
"What in your journeys has brought you to the astral plane?" Maleko asked later after they had regrouped. J'inn, J'ann and Cerrakean were all on sentry duty studying the silver void for any sign of other ships, the Dire Hag or otherwise.
"We are on a quest," Ixin said proudly and Ayremac nodded.
“I am not sure how familiar you both are with the path of Umba, but I am what we call an Officer," the celestial told Maleko and Del. "I am given the honor of dispensing Umba’s justice on the material plane. I also bear the responsibility to take on the missions of my elders, the Justiciars."
"I am familiar with Umba," Maleko said. "I am a priest of Nethlar, the Lorekeeper." Ayremac smiled.
"Good," he said. "In any case, my personal teacher, Justiciar Galmache has asked me to search the Astral Plane for a sword… Fedifensor, to be specific. Have you heard of it?”
"Who hasn't?" Maleko laughed. "There're entire books written about Fedifensor and how it figured into the defense of Amphibese and southwestern Pellham."
"Well, I've never heard of it," Del admitted as he rubbed his brow.
“Fedifensor is a holy sword, a mighty relic, actually, that is imbued with the holy power to overcome fiends and send them back to the lower planes,” Ayremac told him.
"In the high tongue it's name translates as 'Defender of the Faith'," Maleko said, grinning. "Finding it after all the years since it was lost would be amazing!"
"What about you?" Ixin asked, unmoved by Maleko's enthusiasm for minutia.
"We have come to the astral plane in search of surviving members of Grey House." the elf said proudly. He was looking at Ayremac when he spoke, pointing at a gem bracelet he wore on his left wrist, so he missed the look that passed over Ixin's face. Del saw it however and made a point of watching her as Maleko spoke.
"We are tracking them through this device. It is telling us if we are closing in on their coins," Maleko went on. He pulled out a pierced mithril coin threaded on a chain from around his neck to demonstrate. "They may or may not still be alive. We may encounter difficulty if they were murdered or something. I never mentioned that before to Del or Cerreakan, but I assumed they thought of that possibility. There are very few surviving members left after a battle at Myth Drannor, so we are very concerned that the Grey Company continue."
"This is familiar to you," Del said to Ixin and she looked at him quickly. There was fire in her eyes, and recognition. She sighed and nodded.
"I travelled for a while with some who bore such coins," she announced and her eyes seemed to visibly glaze over with memory. "I even wore one myself for a time. A smallfolk... A dvergar... A fairyborn... A trolborn... All of them are dead now. All dead."
Del could see that there was more to be told about Ixin's former companions, and he perked up at the prospect of information related to the story that he and Maleko were pursuing.
"What can you tell us of your time spent with these Grey Members?" he encouraged, unable to completely mask the anxiousness in his inquiry. Ixin looked at him, her eyes smoldering.
"They were my friends," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "Like Ayremac, they stood by me when I had no one else. But as I said, they have all taken the Walk of 100 Days."
"For how long did you travel together?" he went on. "Where were they headed?"
"I don't know," Ixin faltered, stumbling over her imperfect memory. "Half a year, perhaps." Ayremac stepped in, sensing his companion's growing discomfort.
“Funny that the gods would put us together like this... on a neogi ship, chased by pirates, in a world foreign to us all,” the Officer of Umba mused and Maleko nodded.
"It does amuse me at times what the Gods put mortals through," he said. "It cannot just be a coincidence that we have found you here." Now it was Ayremac's turn to nod in agreement.
“I am not sure how our stories will intertwine, but it seems that combining our efforts here may be the best course of action,” he said.
"It might be beneficial for us to travel together, for a time, given that we now have a common enemy," Del suggested. "There is no guarantee that the sword and coins are together here on the Astral plane. But as we are each in search of something, maybe we would be smart to band together toward that end. Depending of course on where we go from here."
“I am not sure if you believe that the gods help control our destiny, but I traveled with the party you speak of... Ixin and I both did, as a matter of fact," Ayremac admitted, and Del started as if someone had poked him in the ribs with the haft of a spear. "I never carried a coin, and by the time I joined the party no one had even met the Grey Company. They were simply carrying on a shared mission. A mission passed down by those whom had traveled with them and died.”
Maleko opened his mouth, but then stopped, aware that Del would ask about Ledare if he wanted to know more and respected the former janissary's choice not to ask for more details. He imagined it would open a flood gate of emotions the half-elf did not wish to share or struggle to control in his weakened state.
"It must be a most worthy cause if these people continue on the path laid for them by their comrades," Maleko said and Ayremac nodded.
"It is most worthy indeed. The fate of the world hangs in the balance," the holy warrior admitted and even Ixin nodded sullenly.
"Then why are you two no longer with them?" Del asked, carefully noting the pair's reaction to his question. Ayremac looked stung, but Ixin seemed positively defeated.
“I was pulled away by a disagreement of faith," the Officer said. "My companion here was dead, so perhaps she can be forgiven for abandoning the quest."
"Dead?" Maleko asked, shocked. He knew that there were divine miracles that could pluck the souls of the recently dead from Purgatorium, but there was always a tremendous toll to be paid for such meddling in the natural order. He'd never known anyone who'd petitioned the gods for such a boon, much less anyone who'd actually returned from the Walk of 100 Days.
"Yes," Ayremac assured the elf. "But it is, perhaps, a tale for another time." Maleko looked at Ixin and noticed that the woman's demeanor had worsened as the conversation wove its way toward the subject of her death. He was unsure what it meant, but he was diplomatic enough to let the subject lapse. He nodded and Del picked up the thread of the dialogue.
"Will this disagreement of faith you speak of be a problem should we meet your former companions?" the half-elf asked.
"I don't see how," Ayremac told him. "That issue is passed and I find it interesting that you not only search them out but that you have the tool that would help me find them.”
"The gods have their hands in this," Maleko said with a reverent nod.
“Would you join my quest and in return I will aid you in yours?" Ayremac asked the two men. "We will find those that carry these coins, and then we will find Fedifensor.”
Maleko looked at Del and the two shared a moment's unspoken debate.
"Our quest is merely to find these men. I will have to see what their agenda is before I could in good conscience pledge my service to your cause," the elf explained. "I believe it to be a great cause, but I would first wish to see what happens with these men we seek."
"I understand," Ayremac said and he looked at Ixin. After a moment, Del stood clapped his hands together.
"What now?" he asked and Maleko reflexively looked at his bracelet. Then the elf looked up at Ayremac.
"How do we find Fedifensor?" he asked. "You do not have a jeweled bracelet as I do."
"True, but we already know where Fedifensor is," the Officer told him. "It is being held at an outpost on the astral plane called Akiv-tchai."
"J'inn and J'ann know where that is," Ixin added. "They agreed to show us the way in exchange for eliminating the threat of the deathspider."
"Which I'd say we've done," Del said and his assessment was met with nods all around.
"Yes," Ayremac said. "Let's find the Buommans and complete our bargain."
They were on the boarding deck. J'inn had opened the double doors at the front of the chamber and was standing watch there with Cerrakean. J'ann had opened up two lockers that contained a variety of weapons and other objects mounted within. There were plenty of curved swords of a sort similar to Cerrakean's scimitars, some sized for use by creatures of smaller than man-like stature. The majority of the items within, however, looked superficially like crossbows, ranging from hand-sized designs up to weapons with heavy brass-plated stocks. All of them lacked actual bows, their missiles likely propelled by magic, but it wasn't hard to imagine how they were used.
"We found their weapon lockers," J'ann announced. "Most of it's pretty standard stuff. Nothing magical." Ayremac's eyes swept over the contents and settled on the Buomman.
"I think that we've fulfilled our part of the bargain we struck earlier," he said and J'ann nodded.
"Of course. Of course," the Buomman nodded. "J'inn and I have already sent a Whispering Wind to the Cabal. Others of the Dirge will be here shortly to secure the ship."
"Which means that you'll need this," J'inn said from the front of the chamber. He held a small piece of stone cut in a diamond shape in his hand and offered it to Ayremac. "This is a bit of Avik-tchai, itself. Concentrate on the stone and it'll point you in the right direction." Ayremac accepted the object and smiled gratefully.
"You have my thanks, J'inn," he said.
"No worries," J'ann replied.
"What will you do with the deathspider now that it's yours?" Del asked as he once more gazed around at the marvelous craft. J'inn and J'ann both shrugged.
"Strip it," J'inn said.
"Burn it," J'ann added.
"Leave it as a warning that the neogi are not welcome in the Chain of Tears," J'inn finished. And Ayremac looked concerned.
"Certainly, I won't stand in the way of you burning this evil contraption," he said. "But might I just say that for one... much of this ship is wood, if you start a fire, you may not be able to put it out. Also the pillar of smoke will be seen for miles, and you may have visitors... scavengers, or previously defeated evil captains, coming back to see what happened."
"Don't worry... 'bout a t'ing...," J'ann sang in a strange lilting accent. "'Cause every little t'ing, is gonna be alright..."
"Just so," J'inn agreed nodding his head to the rhythm of his twin's song. "We'll wait until our fellows arrive before engaging in any pyromania."
"In that case, I suggest we leave now," Ayremac announced, turning his attention from the Buommans to his companions. "I have not tired while on this plane, and I don't think we will."
"The astral plane has the timeless trait," Maleko assured him. "We'll have no need for sleep other than the recovery of spells."
"So we just leave?" Del asked and Ayremac nodded.
"I have no more business to tend to on this ship and I am eager to see old friends," he said.
"Are we sure we're heading in the same direction?" Maleko asked, holding up his bracelet and angling it about until he was sure of the proper heading toward the mithril coins.
Ayremac looked at the glowing bracelet and held up the touchstone he'd gotten from J'inn. It lay flat on his palm for a moment and then it spun like the needle of a compass to point off into the void. Its path and the path set by the Maleko's jewelry seemed the same and Ayremac smiled.
"It seems the fates are confirming we quest together," he said and Maleko smiled, happy to have their ranks bolstered.
"Do you think we should stick around to see the helm destroyed?" Maleko asked after they'd taken a final pass through the ship. "Just to be sure."
"We are close now, my friend," Del countered. "Are you really sure we should stay to watch this ship burn when what we've traveled so far for may be within reach?" Maleko looked at the half-elf and could see that despite Del's attempts to conceal it, he was extremely eager to press on. The mage-priest would not stand in his friend's way.
"Let's go," he said, patting Del reassuringly on the back.
It was with mixed feelings that Del left the deathspider, knowing as he did that its helm would soon be engulfed in flame. He had felt a part of the ship, briefly, in the cage. It had tugged at his physical will and drained him in a way that was impossible to describe. It had certainly not been pleasant; he pitied the creatures who had been sucked dry and left as little more than husks by such an instrument. But it was exhilarating just to know that powering a vessel in such a way was possible. It opened up a whole host of possibilities for his family's shipbuilding trade back in Awad... If Del had been in a position to share this unique experience with them... But he was not. Still, it was something new to consider. Someday when he was old and gray, perhaps he could return to the shipyard and take his family's business in a new direction. Would they welcome his experience? His brothers might. His father... well, who knew what the world would look like by then...
"Are we ready?" Ayremac asked, his question lifting Del from his reverie and plunking him back into the cold hard reality of the present. The marshall looked at his companions and nodded.
"Ayremac, you and I will take point," he said, having already determined that they two were the fastest amongst the group. "The rest of you stay together, but not too tight."
"Yeah!" Cerrakean barked. "Stay out of-"
"Fireball formation," Ixin finished and the two shared an appraising look. After a moment, Cerrakean snorted laughter and slipped into position.
They traveled for a time that was difficult to gauge, only once spotting anything worth seeing in the silver expanse - a bit of astral flotsam that they used as a temporary rest stop so that Maleko could trance and replenish the spells he'd used to heal Cerrakean's injuries. Ixin and Ayremac too rested, leaving the hobgoblin on watch with Del until the others awoke.
Nothing assailed them and after prayers they set off once more, following the heading set by their magical "compasses".
Some time later, they saw it.
Avik-tchai. Inside which lay both a holy sword and several mithril coins.
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. The whole was strange and vaguely sinister, festooned with Iron spikes and riveted metal plates.
There was no immediate sign of anyone manning the outpost, nor did there seem to be any way to enter or leave it but by way of the large wooden doors.
"Charming..." Cerrakean mused and spat. The gobbet of spit flew several feet away and then hung suspended in the void. Ixin looked at it and the hobgoblin before screwing her face up in disgust.
"Yes..." the sorcerer sneered. "Quite." Cerrakean snorted at her and sneered right back.
"We can't all be pretty little things like you, sister," the hobgoblin told her. "Somebody has to do the heavy lifting." Ixin opened her mouth to retort but Ayremac silenced her with an admonishing look.
"Do we just knock?" Maleko asked earning his own look from Del. "I was only kidding," the elf assured him.
"I will sense what I can about this place," Ayremac said as he spread his wings out of habit and rose upward. "I suggest we all do the same."
"We don't all have angel powers, glitter boy," Cerrakean grumbled.
"We all have eyes," Ixin told her and turned her attention on the outpost
Further scrutiny yielded little in the way of new information. Several of the towers were capped with what looked like glass skylights and the glow of light from within was dimly apparent. However, other than that faint glow, there was no sign that the place was inhabited.
Even to Ayremac's "angel powers".
"I will attempt the door," the holy warrior resolved. "I have resistances to certain harm, so I may be better able to hold off a surprise attack"
"I will ask that we show some restraint on insulting any githyanki," Maleko said quickly, looking directly at Ayremac. "They are quick to anger."
"I am well-versed in diplomacy, Maleko," the Officer of Umba replied. "I do not make a habit of hurling insults at strangers."
"Of course not," the elf back-pedalled."I just meant that I have had experience dealing with Grawl with moderate success so far. I do not think he saw me as a threat. Where as you... he does. He saw me as a business opportunity. Maybe we can pull the same thing off here." Ayremac looked at Maleko and then at Avik-tchai.
"Perhaps," he said. "I have no desire to shed blood if it can be avoided."
"I can go either way," Cerrakean grinned ferally and Del looked at her disapprovingly.
"Let's proceed forward as a group," the marshall said after a moment. "But remember what I told you and stay spread out."
They made it to within 100 feet of the outpost doors before anyone hailed them.
"Stop where you are!" a gravelly voice shouted. It was not readily apparent where the voice originated, but its words reached their ears perfectly well. "Avik-tchai has been sealed to traders by order of Gisir Okemocik pending the outcome of today's trial. You will wait until-" The voice paused then and when it spoke next, its tone had softened quite a bit.
"Oh, I say!" the voice chuckled. "Don't I know you?"
Ayremac saw the speaker then. The stone features of Grandfather Plaque smiled at him from the lintel above the double doors leading into Avik-tchai.
So do the players know the coins are there or are they "hoping" they will be? It will be interesting to see if they are there how many of them you've decided to leave for them.
Interestingly the party has yet to see a dead god yet......
So do the players know the coins are there or are they "hoping" they will be?
They're pretty confident. There's only so much I can do to keep the obvious meta-issues out of the discussion. The characters might see the gods' hands in events, but the players know what the DM's been telling them.
Quote:
Interestingly the party has yet to see a dead god yet......
You have no idea what's in store for these poor suckers - I mean "valued players" - before they get to glimpse a dead god.
“Grandfather Plaque??" the holy warrior gaped. "Is that you?” The stone face smiled warmly.
"Indeed it is. It's good to see a familiar face in such a vast emptiness as this," the construct mused. " It's funny, I spent years in a forgotten shrine imprisoned in the dark behind a brick wall. But all this... nothing .. is worse, somehow!" Ayremac nodded compassionately.
"May I approach?" he asked and Grandfather Plaque looked thoughtful.
"I suppose so," he announced after a moment. "My instructions were to repeat the message I gave you and to keep interlopers from breaching the gate. I see no reason why I can't visit a bit with an old friend." Ayremac drifted closer until he was less than 10 feet from the doors and the graven face.
“Grandfather Plaque, I bring friends in peace," he said as he moved, motioning for them to draw slowly nearer as he did so.
"Well I don't wish to speak too ill of my new masters, but I dare say that you'll find little peace hereabouts," the stone face told him. "The githyanki are a bit sword-happy if you take my meaning."
"You have new masters?" the Officer of Umba observed. "Do you still travel with the party? Are they inside?” Grandfather Plaque looked discomfited at that and his eyes roved around for something to look at other than Ayremac.
"Well... two of them are," the construct admitted after a moment. "I tried to bargain for their release, but... but... the githyanki tricked me."
"What do you mean?" Ayremac asked and Grandfather Plaque sighed.
"I offered my services as guardian in exchange for the others' release," the construct said. "Not a bad station, warding such a grand door in such an exotic locale, I thought. And they were going to kill them otherwise, I just knew it."
"So what happened?" Ixin asked and Grandfather Plaque flicked his eyes toward her.
"Oh, hello," he said congenially. "I don't believe we've met."
"Yes, we have," she said. "I'm Ixin." The construct squinted at her.
"Nooo..." he said, drawing out the syllable as he appraised her. "I never forget a face. Ixin looked quite a bit different with-" Ayremac cut him off.
"It is Ixin. She was reincarnated," the Officer of Umba explained succinctly and Grandfather Plaque's face took on an expression of exaggerated awe.
"How terribly interesting," he said. "You simply must tell me all about it. Right after you explain how it is that you came OUT of my first door without ever going IN."
"Grandfather Plaque!" Ayremac said firmly, drawing the construct's attention back to him. "I don't mean to be rude, but you were telling me about what happened to the party."
"Oh yes! Sorry," the face smacked its stony lips. "I made my offer to become a part of Avik-tchai and they agreed to let one of them go in exchange for such a deal. And I thought that one was better than none so I agreed."
"Who did they release?" Ayremac asked.
"Well, I hoped it would be Morier," Grandfather Plaque admitted. "He was always nice. A bit morose, perhaps, but at least he didn't keep suggesting that they stuff me inside the Handy Haversack when he didn't like what I had to say, like Saelus!"
"Who's Saelus?" Ayremac asked. "I don't know him."
"A military man, I believe," the construct told him. "War wizard, or some such. Uniform, shiny boots... quite dapper really. But also quite rude! So I was glad to see that they didn't let him go in exchange for my vigilance."
"Who did they release?" Ixin asked. "Shamalin? Huzair?" Grandfather Plaque looked at her sadly.
"Noxin told me that they were both dead," the construct said glumly.
"What!?" Ayremac exclaimed. "Shamalin's dead?" A cyclone of emotions whirled inside him, but before he could even begin to make sense of them Grandfather Plaque hit him with another revelation.
"They released Dr. Akerman," the stone face said dejectedly.
"Akerman?!" the Officer of Umba snapped. "What were they doing traveling with that parasite?"
"Well, they weren't actually traveling with him," the face said. "He sort of lured them here... into a trap to get some sword that Morier had." Ixin and Ayremac exchanged a glance.
"A sword?" the sorcerer asked. "What sword?"
"I don't know..." Grandfather Plaque admitted. "Some big ugly thing with a jagged blade..."
"Ravager," Ixin said shaking her head. "It's been in the party for a long time. Draelond used to carry it. Then Ledare had it. Morier must have taken it after she was killed." Del drifted forward at the mention of Ledare.
"This is all fascinating stuff. But it isn't getting us anywhere," he said before turning his attention to Grandfather Plaque. "You mentioned a trial. What is that all about?"
"Well, Morier and Saelus killed a few githyanki before they were captured," the stone face told him. "They are on trial for murder."
"I can imagine the kind of law that would govern in this place," Del mused, thinking of Grawl. "I fear they will get no fair trial here." Ayremac seemed to agree with the half-elf's assessment; his jaw clenched angrily.
"When he left, Akerman told me it was to be a trial by combat," Grandfather Plaque explained. "Morier is to fight Saelus to the death... with the winner going free."
"How is that justice?" Ayremac shouted, his hand straying to the handle of his longsword. Ixin drifted closer and put a staying hand on his arm. He took a cleansing breath and nodded to her. When he spoke, his voice was restrained, calm, even. "This is a mockery of law, Grandfather Plaque. You must realize this."
"I fear that the only law here is that of Gisir Okemocik," the stone face admitted sadly. "He rules Avik-tchai and the githyanki obey him unflinchingly. He is the law here."
"Where I go, Umba's law goes with me," Ayremac assured him, the holy warrior's ire rising slowly again. But he retained his composure when he asked, "Can you allow us to enter?"
"Oh, no!" Grandfather Plaque said hurriedly. "My orders were very clear."
"Your orders!?" Ayremac shot back, visibly angered once more. "Our friends are in danger in there and you worry about following orders?" Grandfather Plaque looked nervously around at the assemblage, his eyes flicking meaningfully to the longsword at Ayremac's hip.
"A bargain was struck! My services for a prisoner's freedom," the construct explained. "True, the deal was not the one I intended, but I agreed to the letter of the agreement and the githyanki adhered to that. I am bound by my oath. Surely you understand that." Ayremac opened his mouth to speak, but Maleko slid forward to cut him off.
"One time we were traveling with the caravan up the Coast Highway toward Hillsburg. We passed an apple orchard where a farmer was working. Our team leader yelled to the man, 'How much for a barrel of apples for me and my men?' He replied 'Five gold pieces for a barrel of any of the apples off of these trees.' We got a barrel and loaded it up," Maleko recounted. "A little way down the road we opened them and they all were rotten. We sent a man back to ask him for another barrel. The farmer replied 'I said for any apple of those trees. Those apples were off of those trees. I will not give you more apples, dandelion eater!' Is that contract fair?"
"Well... um... It does not sound fair," replied Grandfather Plaque thoughtfully and the elf nodded.
"It was deceptive - like yours was. Akerman is the rotten apple. You should not be obliged to honor this," Maleko went passionately on. "Now, it was not worth fighting for apples, but a life is at stake and you must let us in. A code of honor among merchants was broken in our case. A world may be broken if you do not help us."
"You can be instrumental in righting the wrongs that have been done," Del added.
"It is never too late to start anew," Ixin suggested. "Take it from one well acquainted with new beginnings."
"You were meant for greater gates than this," Del said, relentlessly laying on arguments until it seemed at last that the stone face was convinced.
"I WANT to help you. Really, I do," Grandfather Plaque said. "It's just that... I... I don't want to see any more of my friends get killed. And that's what will happen if I let you storm in there. I haven't been deeper into the outpost than the mooring platform beyond this door, but I know that there are dozens of githyanki in Avik-tchai. Dozens! All of them are ready and willing to take up arms against you. Many of them are spellcasters as well. It's folly."
Ayremac’s thoughts wandered briefly as the group pondered their options.
How things had changed in his life. When he thought back… to Arland, his former self, the human who strived to achieve respect in the world of politics in his small community did not even seem like him. It was a completely different person who walked home at night to his wife and family. At that time, his faith was something he used to meet more people in the community. It was an obligation, a part of his routine. Even his own angelic blood was something he thought of as a small piece of his mother inside him… not something that was within his power to tap into, but simply a part of his history that made him who he was.
Now, floating in another dimension, Ayremac... Ayremac the Warrior of Umba, the Holy Warrior of Umba, the faithful follower of his Justiciar, student of his church, and worshipper of Umba... felt as if he had finally come into his own.
He was no longer numb to his heritage and the divinity of the Gods around him. He was no longer feeling the searing, blinding pain of loss. He was no longer unsure of his capabilities amongst trail-tested adventurers.
Ayremac was ready to be strong for those around him, strong for those who would perish in a world where Aphyx was powerful, strong for those who would take the Walk of One Hundred Days. He had seen many things on the trail, and could feel Umba’s wisdom guiding him to make decisions that would allow him to work with this team better than he had the last. He needed them to achieve his goals, and although he could not forsake his faith, he would not expect others to tip-toe around it.
Ayremac caught himself… this was not the time for this sort of reflection. He made a mental note to pray on this later, but now…
“Maleko, Del… What do you propose?" he asked his companions. "Do you think we should charge in? Challenge the leader? Or search the outside for other entries?”
"There are no other entries," Grandfather Plaque reminded.
"The idea of challenging Gisir Okemocik is interesting," Del said, thinking aloud. He and Ayremac shared a glance and the holy warrior nodded.
“Yes, interesting… Could we use a duel as a distraction?" Ayremac considered. "What do we know of how these duels take place?”
"I don't think there's any formality to it," Maleko said. "But if you challenge the leader to a duel he'd be honor-bound to accept. If he did not he'd lose face in front of his troops and likely end up shipped back to the Lich-Queen on Tu'narath, the githyanki capital. Not a pleasant fate, let me tell you. The Queen Vlaakith sucks the life from any who fail to-" Cerakean shoved him in the shoulder, cutting his recitation short and earning herself a startled look.
"Save the lecture for after we rescue angel eyes' friends," the hobgoblin growled, cocking a thumb at Ayremac.
"So we're going to challenge the leader of this place to single combat?" Ixin asked, looking around at the assembled faces.
"I say we go in with lots of bravado and claim the right to challenge the leader, yes," Ayremac said with a nod and a grin. Cerrakean laughed.
"Yeah!" nothing can go wrong with that plan," she scoffed.
"The next time you want to initiate a fight, give me some warning!" Saelus was shouting from his cell somewhere to the right of Morier's. "The element of surprise is a sound tactic against one's enemies, but surprising your allies is utterly useless!"
Morier sighed and slumped back against the rear wall of his cell, doing his best to block out the colonel's tirade. Not that the wizard's venom was entirely without warrant, Morier knew; he'd been ready to leave the man to seek freedom on his own. But knowing that in some part he deserved the diatribe did not make enduring it any easier.
At least Akerman had the decency to keep his mouth shut.
He cursed the wizard again for drawing him and Saelus into this situation. Part of him hoped that he'd be paired up to fight Akerman when the time came, despite the fact that he knew hastening the start of the duel would lead inevitably to a conclusion in which only one of the three combatants would be left alive. He wanted to make damned sure that it wasn't Akerman who walked away from this, but moreover he needed to make certain that he survived. Not for his own sake, of course. He'd long ago reconciled himself with the likelihood of his own death, but the quest complicated things. What would happen to Dridana if he were killed while bearing her Heart? He didn't suppose it would be good. At the very least it would put the Heart into unsympathetic hands. And how long then would it be before actively hostile hands got hold of it?
The more he thought about it the more likely it seemed that his own death would, in due course, mean death for Orune.
He sighed again, feeling very small and very alone beneath the weight of his responsibility. He wished that Huzair was here with him; he'd likely be able to bluff his way out of the cell right before he set their jailers on fire. The thought brought a wan smile to the eldritch warrior's lips, but it lingered there for only a moment before a voice shattered his reverie.
"Again, Morier, I am sorry that it came to this," Akerman said from the other side of the bars on the front of Morier's cell. The doctor was still battered and was being escorted by two githyanki, but he wasn't manacled and the warriors didn't have their hands on him. "It was not my wish to see you imprisoned."
"Is it time for us to fight, Akerman?" the albino hissed, glowering up at the wizard from the corner of his cell. "Are you hoping that your contrition will spare you from my wrath?" Doctor Akerman snorted and raised his head so that he looked down his nose at Morier.
"As a matter of fact, elf, I've been freed," he said, smiling as Morier jerked involuntarily at that news.
"What?!" Saelus bellowed from own cell. "How did you talk your way out of the trial?" Akerman made a dismissive wave of his hand.
"I didn't. your Grandfather Plaque did," he called to Saelus, smiling again at the expression on Morier's face. "He agreed to guard the gates of Akiv-tchai in exchange for one of us being set free. He just wasn't specific enough about which one. And, as I said, Memento Mori has enjoyed a long trade relationship with the githyanki." He grinned smugly, but backed away sharply as Morier curled his feet beneath himself and lunged cat-like at the wizard. The albino impacted the bars and clawed futilely at Akerman's coat.
"Save your aggression for tomorrow, Morier," the mage said as he turned to leave. "You'll need your strength to fight. I daresay you won't be preparing any spells in those magic-proof cells."
"You had better hope that it isn't I who wins out tomorrow, Akerman," Morier said. "A warning - as one 'reasonable man' to another. I'll be coming for you if I survive." Akerman said nothing as he exited the dungeon on his way to freedom.
Despite his unwillingness to admit it, Morier knew that Akerman was right. The eldritch warrior had felt his inner energy fade as soon as he entered the holding cell and knew instantly that his plans to use Dridana's 'gifts' to avoid battle would have to be amended. Any possibility of escape would have to be put aside, and he would most certainly have to face Saelus in the sentenced fight to the death. Until then, no healing, no transformation, nothing. Another roadblock in what was turning out to be one giant mess that somehow seemed to get worse at every turn.
He sat back against the wall of his cramped cell once more and contemplated the strange sense of calm that had settled over him. Even in the midst of the madness he was embroiled in and with the highest stakes imagineable on the line in a matter of moments, the chance to sit in silence and collect his thoughts was a welcome one for the eldritch warrior. Initially he didn't fear a battle with Saelius, but he knew that was a dangerous and foolhardy stance. He absently traced the outline of the gemstone with his finger while he pondered the circumstances, and slowly the gravity of it all worked its way into his thoughts. Why shouldn't he fear Saelus? Surely he had killed or ordered the killing of dozens like him, fighting for what he believed to be the right cause; why was Morier any different? He seemed a skilled warrior and a knowledgeable tactician, and he would be fighting after all, for his life. Treating it any differently could be a serious mistake.
The night - such as it was - passed without further interruption. Morier never actually became tired, so he did little more than sit in his cell and stare at the bars ruminating on his predicament. Saelus’ diatribes sputtered out at some point for which the albino was grateful although he wondered if perhaps the war mage was using the silence to settle into the unpleasant business of planning a method for killing Morier in the upcoming trial. Probably. It would make sense and the colonel seemed a pragmatic fellow. He was the sort of man that, under different circumstances, Morier would have considered a valuable ally. But the circumstances were not different and so rather than a comrade in arms Saelus was an obstacle standing between the eldritch warrior and what he’d come to think of as his destiny. A destiny that would doom the whole of Orune if he failed to achieve it. Weighed against that, the loss of the colonel’s life seemed a tolerable choice to make – not a welcome one, but one that Morier was prepared to endure.
He too was a pragmatic fellow.
Life had become cheap. It was little more than a macabre form of currency to be spent in purchasing another foothold from which to fight Aphyx. But this was different, he was being asked to take a life from one who would fight alongside him on any other day. He wasn't sure he could do it... but was there an alternative? He had tried every angle and it seemed he was cornered. He would have to satisfy the githyanki bloodlust in order to walk out alive. The day he grabbed the gemstone (A day ago? A week? A year? It seemed impossible to tell now) the stakes were raised beyond his imagination, he had an obligation to survive. Taking Saelus' life wouldn't be easy, but it would be necessary and perhaps it could even be simple and painless for him. He felt as though if he could access the deepest part of his connection with Dridana, there was something there that could help him fulfill what had become his obligation. His conscience would let him take the most grave of actions for that reason only... to survive.
So it was that when a cadre of githyanki came to escort him and Saelus to the trial Morier had already devised his own plan of attack - one that he hoped would end the trial swiftly and decisively with as little suffering for the colonel as he could manage.
The rattling of swords outside his cell made him sit up with a start. He and Saelus were led out into a large anteroom and stood facing one another for a moment before Morier spoke in a confident and resolved tone, "I'm sorry. Goodbye Saelus."
"Wha... You're Sorry? Why you arrogant bastard, I'll dismember you before you even know what hit you..." The colonel continued his incoherent diatribe as he was dragged off by a team of githyanki soldiers. It didn't make what Morier was about to do any easier, but he was satisfied that he had made his apologies and said his farewell.
"The rules of the trial are simple," Perragourp sneered at Morier and Saelus. "The fight is to the death. The survivor goes free with all his possessions. You may use any means within your power, but if any githyanki are harmed during this trial then you will feel the full weight of our power and both of your lives are forfeit."
As the githyanki commander drifted out of the arena, Morier looked over at Saelus and saw the curious mix of emotions that he himself felt reflected in his one-time companion's face. A sort of grim resolve predominated, but conflicting glimpses of uncertainty and anger flickered briefly in the man's mustachioed features. The albino was about to offer some words of understanding when the Gisir barked out a command of some sort in his harsh, alien tongue and a roar of approval went up from the assembled githyanki. They began to clash their weapons together in a cacophonous rhythm that both urged the two combatants to fight and spoke of the fate that awaited them if they did anything but.
Morier looked up at the warriors lining the walls of this spherical chamber and grimaced; there were dozens of them, perhaps as many as a hundred. If the Gisir didn't honor his end of this arrangement, whoever was left after the trial would most certainly be killed here. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he missed the fact that the trial had started until Saelus hit him with a Quickened Rainbow Blast.
The waves of energy struck him square in the chest, sizzling with destructive power. But the albino's innate spell resistance saved him from damage; the beam struck him and dissipated harmlessly. Morier looked over at the war mage as the man followed up his first spell with one that Morier recognized at once: True Strike. That meant that Saelus was going to go hand-to-hand and the eldritch warrior again cursed Akerman for the theft of his bastard sword.
Morier called on the Heart, imbuing himself with Owl's Wisdom as he watched the colonel charge forward quick-drawing the Unity Blade as he came. The albino tried to avoid the attack, but guided by magic, Colonel Saelus Struck True, opening a wound in Morier's left arm. The Heart protected him not at all from the blow, and he felt his limb go numb as the sabre bit through his flesh and into the bone of his upper arm. The pain and shock of it was enough to break his concentration and he felt the Sunbeam spell he'd been coaxing out of the Heart go awry, fizzling out before it could fully coalesce. Dimly, from a long way off it seemed, he could hear the githyanki cheering their approval as his blood erupted around him in a cloud.
Even without the benefit of magic Saelus was a skilled swordsman, and he pressed his momentary advantage with a blow to Morier's midsection. The impact drove the albino back, but failed to cause any damage as Morier's mail protected him from injury. Saelus withdrew from the melee, then, setting himself up for another devastating charge attack if Morier didn't prevent it.
With an apology in his own heart, the eldritch warrior cast Finger of Death and with a gesture caused Saelus to jerk backward, his face twisted in a rictus of agony as tendrils of negative energy worked their way through his body. Although the spell failed to kill him outright, the damage done to his already weakened body by the sudden influx of negative energy did. He sagged backward, his limp body gone ashen from Morier's attack.
Another cheer went up all around him as soon as Saelus' death became evident, but Morier felt no elation at his victory, only a moment's relief that he might well be able to achieve his destiny after all. It didn't last long, because in the next moment the cheering stopped as all eyes turned to the door leading toward the exit of Avik-tchai. Hovering there with feathered pinions spread was an angelic figure dressed in glittering green plate mail. In one hand it bore a sword and in the other a mirrored shield and when it spoke, its voice was full of commanding bravado.
"I am Ayremac, holy warrior of the goddess Umba," he shouted, leveling his weapon dramatically at the Gisir. "And I challenge you to a duel!"
Ixin nudged Ayremac's wing and whispered, "We're too late." She pointed over at Morier hovering beside the limp corpse of a man in polished hide armor. "The trial's already over."
"If that's your boy, then this is a bad call. We should turn and run," Cerrakean growled in the holy warrior's other ear. "I specialize in fighting groups, but even at my best I couldn't take this many."
Ayremac looked again at the jaundiced humanoids arrayed around the perimeter of the spherical room. He supposed them to be githyanki without bothering to ask. They were all of them arrayed for war, with oversized weaponry and ornate armor of a variety lighter than he wore himself. And near a large doorway on the left was a singular specimen with a massive, club-like scepter in one hand and a magnificent greatsword strapped across his back. His armor was a filigree of gold and on his head burned a crown of fire.
This then was the Gisir.
"This is who we came to rescue?" Maleko asked from the rear of the group. His voice was filled with shock and more than a bit of disdain. "But he's... he's a drow." Sensing the swell of racial enmity rising in the elf, Del jumped in to discourage Maleko from doing anything rash.
"Look around you, my friend," the marshall said, laying a reassuring hand on the elf's thin shoulder. "We know very little of the men involved here and I've seen many a desperate man. Let's not judge him based on his will to survive alone."
Maleko grimaced, but nodded at his friend although it was clear that the elf held little hope that anything positive would come from an association with a degenerate fae of the night below.
"And anyway," Del added, pointing at Morier's bleeding arm. "Look at him. He could use your healing right now, not your prejudgement."
"I have to touch him to do that," Maleko replied, barely containing his contempt for such a proposition. But before he could say more one of the githyanki near the Gisir detached himself from the throng and drifted confidently forward, sword-in-hand.
"The mighty Gisir of Avik-tchai, Okemocik accepts your challenge," the lone githyanki relayed. "He wishes to know what you offer beside your head as trophy of his victory and what you demand of him in the unlikely event that you prove triumphant?"
Ayremac delivered his reply to the whole of the room, voice booming. "If I win, I ask for my choice of weapon in this stronghold."
The githyanki representative turned to the Gisir and conveyed the response and after a moment, the ruler inclined his head. Several of those assembled made a show of hoisting their own swords, suggesting they were in possession of the desireable blade. Even Maleko, who knew less about swords than he did about a great many other things had to admit that there were some magnificent examples of the weaponsmith's art amongst the assemblage.
Ayremac seemed unimpressed with the bravado shown by the spectators. His eyes never left the githyanki who spoke for the Gisir as he continued dramatically, "And if you win, I will carry out a quest of your choosing. I make this oath to you under the judicious eyes of Umba. You will note… our fight will not be to death, but to submission or unconsciousness."
The room erupted into a sudden rage of protest at that and it took a barked command from the Gisir to silence the crowd.
"Bah!" the githyanki messenger spat once the room had settled. "Your terms are unacceptable. Only a game involving real risk is worth playing! The duel is to the death or not at all." He eyed Ayremac eagerly, "Or do you withdraw your challenge?"
Del felt the air crackle with anticipation. It was clear that these people thrived on aggression and battle. As such, he suspected that it would be difficult to rescind the challenge. And he knew they would be unable to assist Ayremac in this fight - either by sword or by magic.
He took a moment to consider the man who had drawn them to this place. Both Ixin and Ayremac had identified him as Morier, and Maleko had further identified him as a drow, which seemed at odds with the figure floating somewhat dazedly in the center of the spherical chamber. For one thing, Del had always heard that drow were black-skinned, but this elf was white as paper with hair to match. His eyes were the same color as the blood that tattooed his left arm and hand: ruby. He wore a chain shirt of gleaming mithril and carried a gleaming Valiant Vessel bag across his torso. He had a baldric that held an empty sheath, but carried no obvious weapons. Still there was a something dangerous in the way he held himself - something that spoke of a capability belied by the uncertain expression on his face.
Morier's wound continued to bleed openly, but the albino too seemed to be waiting for Ayremac's decision. Del was eager to learn what he could from the keeper of the Grey House coins, but he knew that would have to wait until they were safely away.
"I will fight by your side, celestial, if that will hasten our departure from this place," he said in a low voice.
"And I," Ixin announced firmly.
Ayremac raised his hand only slightly and declined with a respectful nod. "We shouldn't risk more lives."
Maleko pushed forward, discreetly offering his spellsink scarab. The holy warrior glanced down at the device and shook his head.
"We do not want to enflame this situation further," Ayremac hissed. "There are too many swords here to see them all turn against us."
"From what I know of githyanki, the Girsir is the only one you have to worry about. Ask no quarter and give none. Other than that... anything goes," Maleko reassured him. "Githyanki are cruel and sadistic, but they follow their oaths absolutely."
"Well, angel!?" the githyanki who spoke for the Gisir demanded, managing to make the word 'angel' sound like a curse."Do you forfeit your challenge or is the duel to be to the death?"
Ayremac turned once more to the messenger and announced with steel in his voice, "I do not withdraw, Gisir. We will fight, and to the death." There were encouraging shouts from the assembly. "Who will oversee this duel?" The messenger laughed thinly at that and raised his sword. indicating the whole of the room with a single, dramatic flourish of the blade.
"All those assembled here will oversee the challenge," he told Ayremac. "We are githyanki. Secrets do not become us!"
"Then lay out your rules for this fight, and let us get to it," the holy warrior replied earning a sneer and a nod of deference from the messenger.
"The rules of the challenge are simple," the githyanki told him. "The fight is to the death. The survivor claims the head and weapon of the loser as trophies. You may conduct the challenge using any means within your power, but if any other than your opponent are harmed by you during this trial then your life is forfeit."
Morier, who had only minutes before heard the nearly the same speech, raised his good hand, attracting Perragourp's attention. "Ummm... can I? Am I, uhhh... Can I... go... now?" the albino stammered and Perragourp sneered at him and nodded once.
"The call of githyanki blood has been answered by the justice you have done here. Your name is cleared of all charges and you are free to leave," the commander told him. Then he pointed at Ayremac and added, "But do you not wish to stay and witness the Gisir behead this fool?" Morier looked briefly at Ayremac and the cadre of strangers he'd surrounded himself with then shook his head.
"I've had enough of bloodbaths for the time being," he said. "I'd really just like to get out." Perragrourp seemed disgusted by the eldritch warrior's lack of vision and raised his sword to indicate the door by which Ayremac had entered. Without a word Morier turned and willed himself in that direction.
As he drifted, stone-faced, passed Ayremac, Maleko held up a hand. "Hold one minute, Mori'Quessir," he said, producing his glowing bracelet. It was glowing like Orin's Shield now and Morier, Ixin and Cerrakean all winced away from it, shielding their eyes. "This device says that you have possession of the coins belonging to Grey House. I am looking for an explanation as to what happened to them!"
Del looked with bewilderment at Maleko. His mind reached back to the details of the elf's past, wondering when the seeds of this undisguised contempt had been sown. At the moment it did not matter - they were in enough of a fix. "Not here," he implored his friend quietly.
"Listen to your friend, Darthiir'waela," Morier said wearily and fixing his gaze pointedly on the hall beyond, moved out of the arena.
"We have followed your law and custom, challenging you in an open forum," Ayremac said after Morier had gone on. "Gisir... as a warrior, I trust you will return the honor by allowing my commrades to leave unaccosted, win or lose."
"We will not speak yet of terms," the githyanki speaker, Perragrourp, growled, "You have yet to offer anything of value to the almighty Okemocik."
Again Ayremac's voice rang out. "I put my armor and shield against my choice of weapon from Avik-tchai." The githyanki buzzed amongst themselves approvingly, recognizing the quality and craftmanship of Ayremac's gear.
"It is done," the githyanki spokesman confirmed after a moment's consultation with the Gisir. "Prepare yourself." He drifted back as both the Gisir and Ayremac drifted forward.
"Their eyes are on me," the holy warrior hissed over his shoulder as he went. "Now is the time to leave."
The Gisir had left his heavy rod behind, but he held his elaborate greatsword and it danced and flashed like quicksilver in his hands as he spoke in a harsh, alien language to the assemblage. They listened and as they had done before during the trial they clashed their weapons together in an approving and at the same time threatening manner. The Gisir spread his ropy arms, drinking in his people's enthusiasm and then he looked at Ayremac with a predatory smile on his emaciated lips. The light from his glowing crown caught pricks of red in his otherwise jet-black eyes. He nodded.
And the duel was begun.
"Angel Eyes has got a pair, that's for sure," Cerrakean muttered as she turned away from the duel. "But he's right. We should get the hell out while we have the chance." Maleko nodded, casting one last look at the holy warrior as he squared off against the githyanki commander.
"Good luck, Ayremac," he sighed. "May the gods be with you."
Dell put a hand on Ixin's arm and she shook it off with a single violent motion. "We should go, Ixin," the marshall assured her. "There's nothing more we can do for him now."
"I'm staying," she said without looking at him. Her jaw clenched with restrained fury as she watched the Officer of Umba go to his fate. He recalled what she had told them about the circumstances surrounding her recent rebirth and Ayremac's part in it. In her mind, Ayremac had saved her life. Del thought of being bitten by an adder half-a-lifetime ago and of the young janissary-in-training who had saved his life and he knew at once that Ixin would not be persuaded.
"We'll wait for you outside," he told her and then he too left the chamber and the bloodthirsty roar of the githyanki spectators.
Ayremac regarded the Gisir and steeled himself. Then he spoke a word in the tongue of the angels and called down a Holy Smite on the githyanki. A burst of divine power exploded around the commander and Ayremac watched without pleasure as the energies wracked the githyanki's frame. When they subsided the Gisir looked up at the holy warrior, his cracked lips pulled back from blood-slicked teeth. He spoke a litany of syllables and drew the palm of his hand along the blade of his greatsword, drawing blood and infusing the weapon with dark magic. Then Ayremac saw the Gisir smile and narrow his eyes slightly an instant before he felt an unseen force press in all around him.
The Officer of Umba struggled, but couldn't escape the telekinetic assault. He watched the Gisir's smile broaden as it became obvious that Ayremac was caught. The Gisir slid closer and Ayremac felt the unseen force press in on him from every direction, grinding armor plates against one another, flattening his wings and sword and shield uselessly against his immobilized body.
This was it, he thought. He'd been presented with a simple choice: succeed or fail... live or die. And he'd failed. He was going to die.
The Gisir approached slowly... gloating... drawing out his victory for the enjoyment of his people... making an example of Ayremac to those who would challenge his rule. Ayremac roared an animal cry born of frustration that tore his throat raw and flecked his lips with foam.
Then he activated his Shield of Blinding.
The Gisir, caught totally unaware, let out his own cry then as the startlingly bright light burned his eyes and broke his concentration. Ayremac felt the telekinetic grip on his body drop away and he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he hefted his longsword and came at the blinded githyanki from the side Smiting the Evil creature. His longsword came down on the Gisir's right shoulder, opening the joint to the bone and cutting away a messy slab of meat. A mist of blood spread in the air, peppering the celestial's armor and dotting his wings.
Somehow, despite being blinded and enduring the grievous wound to his left arm the Gisir still clung to the belief that he could best the Officer of Umba. He swung his greatsword around clumsily, and Ayremac batted it away almost casually with his shield.
He would not be denied.
He raised his sword and brought it down across the githyanki's back again, hard enough to nearly make the Gisir drop his weapon. The githyanki yelped in pain and fear, his blind face stricken suddenly by the realization that after untold decades of rule he might not survive this latest challenge to his authority. Fear touched his soul.
His greatsword whistled uselessly, desperately, through the air above Ayremac's head. The holy warrior ducked to the side and thrust upward with his own sword driving a foot of steel into the flesh beneath the Gisir's armpit. Blood sprayed outward under brief pressure as the blade pierced the githyanki's black heart, ending Gisir Ocemocik's life and the duel in one decisive blow.
---------------
OOC- The Gisir rolled a natural 1 for his saving throw to avoid being blinded by Ayremac's shield. Ayremac then did a Smite Evil on the githyanki and rolled a critical hit in the process. At that point, blind and crippled, the outcome for the Gisir was destined not to be a happy one.
Ultimately, I wasted my time statting up the dreaded Gisir of Avik-tchai. Ayremac didn't end up taking a single point of damage in the duel.
"I believe our goals are one, Mori'Quessir... uh... Morier," Maleko said as he caught up with the albino in the port at the entrance to Avik-tchai. "We do need to discuss our situation with you and, as a representative of Grey House, I need some information from you as well." Morier sighed and stopped. He touched his chest and Maleko saw gold-green light - like sunshine striking a forest floor - spread beneath the drow's fingers. Then Morier looked up at Maleko.
"Look, elf. I don't know what Ayremac told you about me, but I've never been to Grey House," he said. "And I've got a lot on my own plate at the moment so you'll forgive me if I'm not overly keen on hearing about 'your situation'." Maleko could not have looked more shocked if Morier had actually reached out and slapped him, but he recovered quickly.
"As I mentioned before," he began, "I have a device which points the way toward certain mithral coins and-" Morier held out his arms wide.
"I don't have any money... mithral or otherwise," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. Then an expression of realization blossomed on his features. He patted his traveler's purse and nodded. "Maybe in the bag. It's a Valiant Vessel bag - a Handy Haversack. There's a lot of stuff in there that I haven't even looked at yet. Your coins might be in there, but I don't have the time to look right now." Cerrakean snorted in disgust nearby.
"I thought Ixin said this guy was an honorable man," the hobgoblin scoffed. "Isn't that what she said, Del?" Morier looked critically at Cerrakean and then at Del.
"Ixin?" the eldritch warrior asked. "How do you know Ixin?"
"We met her when we met Ayremac," Del explained, pointing back the way they'd come. "I tried to convince her to leave with us, but she's determined to stay and watch the duel." Morier nodded.
"Different Ixin," he said. "I knew a woman by that name, but-"
"She was reincarnated, genius," Cerrakean interjected waving her fingers in front of her face. "Comin' back from the dead tends to change folk. Or so I hear."
"Speaking of hearing," Maleko said, looking back down the hall toward the spherical arena. "Does it sound awfully quiet back there, or is it just me?"
The stunned silence of the githyanki stopped Morier in his tracks. Had Ayremac actually...? He paused for a moment at the oversized doors that were about to swing open for him and headed back in the direction of the imposing hush. His own speed outpaced Maleko and Cerrakean quickly and he slowed just a fraction in order to remain a measured distance behind.
Ayremac hovered for a moment, sword in hand, other hand on the Gisir. There was no sound in the chamber apart from his own breathing; the githyanki seemed stunned into silence at their commander's death. Silently, and without moving his lips, the holy warrior prayed for his opponent to have an uninterrupted Walk of 100 Days and to ultimately stand before Umba for the true judgment that only she could provide.
Ayremac thought briefly, as he often did when facing death - be it among friends or enemies - how much he doubted his own judgment of others. Could he truly know if the Gisir was evil, leading his people in their own customs? Certainly it was not the life that Ayremac had chosen, but who knew what path had led the githyanki to his current place? Of course, judgment was his duty and he upheld it to the best of his ability and without letting others know of his secret self-doubt.
Quickly, Ayremac withdrew his sword and held it above his head, not avoiding the blood floating in the air as it painted his armor and splattered where it chose. He thought for a moment that the bloodier he looked the more respect he might actually find amongst this warrior clan. He circled slowly in place, meeting every githyanki stare.
Ayremac then pulled the head of the Gisir back, and with one solid and passionate motion removed the head and pushed the body away. It tumbled off, leaking blood as it drifted.
The chamber erupted in violent cheers and the clashing of weapons as the Officer's actions further inflamed the githyanki bloodlust.
Indeed, Ayremac had triumphed and the group came upon the scene just as the Gisir's head was being mercifully and swiftly removed from his body. Morier knew that the Gisir would not have had the same compassion, but watching Ayremac take the high road was nothing new. That fact could be frustrating, but it was hard to fault his devotion. He could make a valuable ally.
Standing solemnly, blood-stained, his own head held high and the head of the Gisir by his side, Ayremac waited for the crowd to settle. Then he addressed the githyanki. “I will claim my weapon but I offer this head to you, if you wish to honor your dead.”
"If you do not wish the trophy then we will send the head back to Tu'narath, as is our custom," the githyanki translator spoke, gliding forward to swoop up the Gisir's sword, which had fallen free of his nerveless fingers. With the weapon in hand, he looked at Ayremac for what seemed to the holy warrior to be a moment too long. Ayremac stared back at him and the githyanki looked away, offering up the silver sword in to hands. He released his grip on the Gisir's topknot and took the blade, eager not to offend them by refusing it.
"I will take the additional sword of my choice and you can be rid of me," Ayremac said and the githyanki nodded deferentially.
"Of course. A bargain struck is a bargain honored," he said. "You may, of course, examine any of the weapons in Avik-tchai, but the Gisir's private collection contains the most impressive items." Ayremac nodded.
"A good place to start," he said and the githyanki gestured toward an opening in the side of chamber.
"Right this way," he said and led the way into a ten-sided chamber dominated by an enormous bat-winged throne on the far wall. The throne itself was flanked by a pair of intricately-worked columns. Each arm of the massive chair was carved into the shape of a snarling dragon, and a king's ransom in jewels glittered on the back of the throne. All this grandeur held Ayremac's attention for only a few moment's before he looked at the wall behind the throne.
It was decorated by weapons of nearly every type Ayremac had ever seen and several that he couldn't identify. They were all arrayed in orderly racks and at a glance he guessed there to be a hundred weapons there. Maybe more.
Nodding he turned the Ixin and handed her the Gisir's greatsword.
"I think we're going to need Maleko's help with this," he said.
Morier floated with the group back to the throne room, surprised at the relative calm of the githyanki who had, after all, just watched thier leader's beheadding. "A strange people, to be sure" he thought to himself.
"The Bards of Brogine could not create words to adequately describe the glory you have achieved today," Maleko said, patting Ayremac approvingly on the shoulder. "Praise Umba for giving you the strength to achieve your goal."
Del smiled and offered Ayremac his flask in admiration. "Such a battle has earned you this much," the marshall said, but the holy warrior refused.
"Offer again when we are through with this place," he said with a thin smile. Del considered, shrugged and took a long draw himself before slipping it back into its pocket. Maleko watched his friend critically and quickly changed the subject.
"So... one of these is your sword, is it?" the elf asked and Ayremac nodded.
"I was hoping that between you and Ixin, you might be able to narrow down the choices a bit," the holy warrior said and Maleko nodded back.
"I should be able to narrow down the choices to magical and non-magical with little trouble," Maleko said. "If we could wait until tomorrow I could pray for the ability to Detect Good. Surely a Holy sword would radiate that in abundance."
"We haven't that kind of time," Ayremac cautioned, looking meaningfully at the armed contingent of githyanki waiting by the room's entrance. Mleko nodded.
"I see what you mean," he said and turned to Ixin. "I'll start on the left."
The task was not as difficult as it first seemed. Most of the displayed weapons were not magical - which made sense given the nature of the githyanki. The most powerful weapons would be better served in the hands of able-bodied warriors rather than languishing unused in a wall-mount. And that was true here. There was a scattering of magic weapons - most of them sized inappropriately for use by githyanki - but of those that were the right size one was a sword.
It was mounted high up on the wall, barely visible from the floor of the chamber. But once spotted, it was obviously the object of Ayremac's quest for it was etched in along the fuller with runes that spelled out its name in Celestial: FEDIFENSOR.
Ayremac reached for the weapon when Ixin laid a hand on his arm. "Does that look familiar?" she asked, indicating an axe that hung on the wall nearby.
"What?!" Ayremac snapped, dragging his eyes away from the Holy sword with difficulty. He looked where his protege was pointing and his jaw dropped open in surprise. "It can't be!" he coughed.
But it was.
Hanging on the wall a few feet away from Fedifensor was another Holy weapon - one that Ayremac himself had had a hand in enchanting: Karak's waraxe.
"Can't be what?" Maleko asked quickly, but Ayremac did not hear him. Instead, he went over to the axe, emotions stirring again, his mind instantly racing to what improbable events could have led the axe to hang on this wall. He had always assumed that Karak had just chosen to move on... into the winter land, even though it was quite unlikely he would have left the party that way.
"It's Karak's axe," Ixin answered the elf, giving Ayremac a chance to examine the weapon.
"Who's Karak?" Maleko asked next, his voice hushed.
"A dwarf who traveled with us for a time," the sorceress told him, her own voice lowered to a whisper as she explained. "Ayremac told me that he disappeared the same night that I was killed."
Maleko looked at her with surprise on his face. Reference to her deaths and subsequent reincarnations was shocking to him and it seemed to stir something unwelcome in Ixin as well. Her lips were set in a tight line and she did not meet his eye.
"Can any of you tell me how this waraxe came to be here?" Ayremac asked as he turned to the group of githyanki. Several of them looked at one another and muttered in their own tongue, but Perragourp, standing a few paces distant from the band shook his head.
"No," the translator replied. "This collection is... was the Gisir's obsession alone. Perhaps it was recovered from a raid. Perhaps it was purchased from a trader. Only the Gisir would know for sure."
"Do you have any dwarven prisoners here?" Maleko asked, earning a glare from Perragrourp.
"No," the githyanki answered. "In warfare, the githyanki ask no quarter and grant none. In matters of law, Githyanki justice is swift. We have no need to keep prisoners for long."
“Does anyone know where this weapon came from?” Ayremac asked, managing to sound casual despite his curiosity. He looked at the githyanki arrayed behind Perragourp as he pointed at the dwarven axe. The warriors looked at one another and then at Perragourp, speaking in their native language with confused tones.
"My warriors do not speak your tongue, celestial," Perragourp told him, his own tone one of restrained anger. "If it will hasten your departure, I will circulate the question among the troops. Then you can take the axe and be gone from Avik-tchai."
“I have made my choice,” Ayremac stated plainly although he was careful not to indicate which weapon might be his choice. “But I believe I recognize this waraxe from a previous battle. I would like to know if one of your warriors can tell me the tale of the one who carried it.” They could almost hear Perragourp's teeth grinding from across the chamber.
"Your stalling tactics try my patience, celestial," the githyanki growled, his grip tightening noticeably on the handle of his sword.
“Tell me that story, and it will hasten my departure,” Ayremac said with amicable gentility. Without another word to the outsiders, Perragourp turned, barked some orders at his men and flew from the throne-room
Ayremac and Ixin went back to speculating on the axe and the whereabouts of the dwarf who had owned it. As Del did not know Karak, he just watched and listened to the theories as they were bandied about. Maleko seemed quite interested in their musing and he was devoting his attention to the pair as they conversed. Cerrakean was splitting her own time between watching Morier and the githyanki guards left at the door. For his part, the marshall was suitably impressed by the Gisir's weapon collection, and he found himself sipping from his flask and admiring the gleaming display. Here was a maul big enough for no one smaller than a storm giant to use. Beside it was a double scimitar such as he had seen used by certain weaponmasters in Hule, but this one was suitably sized for an ogre. He briefly considered the damage one of the Iron Gut ogres who defended the Borderlands could do with a double scimitar of such proportion and shuddered at the image his mind created.
"We need to be away from this place," Morier said to him, his voice low but not quite a whisper. "The githyanki make me uneasy, and I would just as soon be away from them as soon as possible." Del tore his eyes away from the weaponry and glanced over at the posted guards. They were staring back with open animosity on their faces and Del could well imagine the zeal with which warriors would lay into them were Perragourp to give such an order.
"I'm not one to run from a fight," Cerrakean offered, "but in this case I think we're pushin' our luck hangin' around here. If it comes to crossed swords, I think we'll be in real trouble." Del looked at the hobgoblin and nodded.
"Let's make sure it doesn't come to that," he said.
Perragourp returned not too much later and began speaking at once, eager to be rid of these interlopers.
"The axe was recovered from an illithid nautiloid that was seized by a githyanki boarding squad near the Chain of Tears," the commander relayed. "There were no dwarves aboard the vessel and no indication of how the axe came to be in the illithid's possession."
"Illithid?" Ixin muttered, confused. Maleko leaned in to her ear and whispered two words that sent a chill up her spine.
Stopping for a breath, allowing the many possible stories of Karak to play one last time through his mind before settling on the most hopeful option, Ayremac turned to Fedifensor and lifted the weapon from its display mounts. Holding the blade briefly, turning it, and then finding an appropriate place on his belt to store it, he turned to Perragourp.
“I have chosen my pride and will be on my way,” he said with a nod.
"So be it," Perragourp hissed, eager to be rid of these outsiders.
Ayremac motioned for the group to follow and then began to move towards the exit. As he approached the githyankis, he stopped and spoke.
“Perragourp, I know you are ready to be rid of us, and we will hasten our departure… but would you be willing to part with the axe?" he asked, casually, as if it were an afterthought. "It looks like a holy weapon of a god you and your warriors do not worship. You could honor the weapon by allowing it to be wielded in the hands of someone who knows that god, and reveres them.” The githyanki's face screwed up in disgust as if Ayremac had offered to feed him a spoonful of troll excrement.
"You show your ignorance of our ways, angel," Perragourp sneered. "The githyanki have no god. The githyanki need no god. We serve the lich-queen and she has guided us to greatness these past hundred generations! That a weapon would be honored by dedication to a god means nothing to me... No. It means less than nothing! It is an insult to an instrument whose only honor is in glorious battle."
Ayremac opened his mouth to apologize, but Perragourp went on quickly.
"But that being said, you are correct that the weapon holds little value for us," the githyanki continued. "Its magic runs counter to our philosophy which is why it was relegated to the Gisir's collection rather than seeing use in the hands of an able-bodied warrior. What would you offer in trade for it?"
Ayremac reached to his belt and pulled his morningstar from its place in a non-threatening way. He cradled it up and looked hopefully at the githyanki.
“This weapon is well-tested in battle, and although I have always wielded it in the name of my god, it bears no dedication. It is infused with inner magic, and sheds light when grasped.” He clutched its haft, displaying the lit affect.
“Would this be of sufficient value to close the trade?” The githyanki snorted in response.
"You insult me!" Perragourp spat. "You claim the axe has import and then offer this... toy in exchange? I would sooner see it safely out of the hands of god-headed fools than accept such an offer!" Ayremac lowered the morningstar at once, nodding sagely.
"Ah, take no insult. I offered and you did not accept," the holy warrior replied as he busily returned the morningstar to its place on his belt. "The weapon was of only trivial interest and I cannot afford to spend more than this on such frivolity."
Ayremac looked back at the waraxe, sad he could not reclaim it... feeling as if possessing it might have brought him closure... or at least given him something to mourn. He looked at Ixin and she held out her empty hands, shaking her head slowly.
"We will take our leave," Ayremac said to Perragourp. "You have been more than hospitable and I don't wish to wear our welcome." The githyanki's lip curled back from his jagged teeth.
"You mistake adherence to custom for hospitality and tolerance for welcome," the githyanki corrected. "And know this: if our paths cross again what tolerance we have shown will be at an end. You will be met with steel and steel alone." Ayremac nodded as if such a statement was a perfectly natural one to make.
“So be it then," he said. "We will be on our way."
And they were, heads held high, not looking back.
They traveled in silence for some time. Ixin was the slowest flier and so they maintained her pace as they went, unwilling to string their ranks out too thin, but when they spotted a bit of floating detritus off to their right, they veered off their more-or-less random course to assess their situation.
Ayremac was blunt with the group, asking, "Del, Maleko, Cerrakean... if you would be so kind as to allow Morier and I a moment." Ixin moved to join the two but the Officer held up one gauntleted hand. "Ixin, bear with me," he said with an apologetic smile. "Let me help Morier adjust."
She struggled not to look hurt and nodded her understanding. "As you wish."
Once Ayremac and Morier were some distance away - though only far enough to give their conversation some privacy - Ayremac grabbed Morier's shoulders, grinning.
"Men-at-arms are not know for sentiment... and you and I especially so...but I must," he said before embracing Morier joyfully.
"It's good to see you, friend," the holy warrior beamed, releasing the albino. "I did not expect to find you here, but the gods are good, and they have brought us together. For you to be in the same place as my quest... it's unbelievable! Only the fates could be responsible."
Morier listened intently as Ayremac detailed the events on the path that had led the celestial to Akiv-tchai and somehow back to standing in front of him now. However it happened, it couldn't have been more fortuitous and thus, Morier thought, the gods surely had a hand in it. The eldritch warrior noted that he had recently found his mind wandering from time to time into a spiritual area he had not inhabited quite so fully in the past. His hand crept unconsciously to the protrusion on his chest, reassuringly tracing its contours.
"What is that on your chest?" Ayremac asked, noting the motion.
In response to the question, Morier began to peel away enough of his armor to reveal the spot in his chest where the gemstone had implanted itself. "She is with me," he said, knowing that the celestial knew enough of the situation that he would fully understand the meaning of those words.
And he did, instantly noting the symbolic placement of the gem for which they had so long been questing.
"The Heart," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Morier nodded and quickly closed up his armor.
"I never imagined that I could harbor her essence and I'm wary of revealing this situation to anyone," he told his companion. "But I have always believed your motives to be pure. You are one of the only people I feel I can fully trust now."
Ayremac nodded, considering. Then he pointed at the others. "I will also vouche for Del and Maleko and Cerrakean," he said. "I have not traveled with them long, but they helped Ixin and me out of a tight spot when they could have turned on us and saved themselves. Not saying they are saints, but I would trust them with to guard my back at this point."
Morier looked over and saw that the others had noticed he and Ayremac looking and gesturing at them and were moving toward them. Del was fastest and he spoke as he came.
"Keeping counsel with oneself is wise indeed," he said. "But let me share something first with you: this is not about the coins in your satchel. I know next to nothing of their history and even less of yours. You are struggling to some kind of end against an insurmountable force, and of that I do know a little. Enough to be certain that your cause is dangerous... and compelling. Enough to know that one does not walk away from it but becomes swallowed up by it." Morier nodded, impressed by the half-elf's words.
"You do seem to know more than most," he said. "From where does this knowledge come?" Shifting a bit, uncomfortably aware that he was going to have to go down an unpleasant road in order to be level with Morier, and knowing what such a journey would involve, Del broke out his flask again. He took in a burning mouthful of courage.
"Grey House is the origin of the investigation," Maleko said before Del was forced to speak and Morier nodded.
"So you have said," the eldritch warrior replied. "But as I told you, I have never been to Grey House."
"I was trained within the janissary ranks of Barnacus," Del blurted, looking hopefully at Morier. He futilely willed understanding into the albino and waited for that to be enough. It wasn't and Morier simply raised one prompting eyebrow in response.
"Your quest has claimed a life which I would give anything to have back," Del confided, shakily, "but whose allegiance to that very cause supersedes even death."
"Indeed it has consumed countless lives, including a great (and seemingly ever-growing) number who have fought beside me," Morier admitted. "Mercenaries in search of one self-serving prize or another come and go, with names I sometimes cannot recall after the fog of war sets in. But only a small handful have come here out of a sense of duty toward a cause. Which claimed life has brought you here?"
"My comrade was Janissary Ledare Eelsof'faw." He said the name as if its syllables were jagged and might cut his tongue if he lingered too long on them. "She spoke of an effort to prevent the return of Aphyx to this world... of armies mobilizing in anticipation of that day. Indeed, I had some dealings with this myself along the borderlands. Strange creatures... not wholly one beast or another but some twisted, dark combination. She... she insisted that Aphyx was seeking a vessel... a body..." Del shook his head, as if to jar his memory.
"I will admit that my recollection is more bits and pieces of fact," the marshall continued. "But I can tell you: she was changed by this. And her spirit was wholeheartedly pledged to this cause; that I can remember as if it were yesterday."
Morier heard little of the words that followed the name. He pushed back the sudden rush of memory, reaching out involuntarily to grasp the janissary hard just above the elbow. "You know Led... knew... Ledare?"
As dark and solitary as his thoughts had seemed earlier that day, the sudden reappearance of Ayremac and now a contemporary of Ledare seemed to bring light. Two who had truly understood, who had come not for gain but out of service, were suddenly among him; even if it was in combination of spirit and form. Although he was sure that she never knew it, it had been Ledare who unwittingly turned him from a lone warrior searching for little more than solace in battle, into a torchbearer for this fight against Aphyx. It seemed impossible that others could be around her and not be driven by her sense of devotion and service. It was following the loss of Ledare that Morier felt compelled to pick up her mantle of leadership, but he had never felt a cohesive group available to follow his lead.
Perhaps now...
"Yes!" Del said, smiling nervously at the albino's sudden enthusiasm. "We... trained together at the academy." He down-played their involvement for some reason, not ready as yet to detail the true depths of their relationship.
"You could hardly have spoken a name for which I have greater reverence, Janissary," Morier told the half-elf "Ledare Eelsof'faw is the very reason I stand here today having been bound by the essence of a goddess who will rise to fight Aphyx." Del listened intently, willing his face to reveal nothing of the emotional surge inside him. A dozen questions boiled their way to the surface of his thoughts - things he had wondered in the cold stillness of long nights awake. But he checked them carefully.
"She is why I am here as well," Del told him. "But know that I have come willingly; no gods have summoned nor kings commanded me. I am here to do what I can to aid in your quest. That is what she would have wanted."
"She was very inspirational," Morier began. "Her dedication to-" Del held up an unsteady hand, his expression forestalling any further discussion on the topic.
"I do not need to know the details now, maybe never... But if you are willing I should like to know more when there is time," he said, his voice measured and controlled. The flask shook ever-so slightly in his hand as he lifted it once again. Maleko noticed the flask and the tremor and concern bled into the elf's eyes.
"Now about this shifty elf who seems to want to pick my pocket for spare coins..." Morier mused, looking at Maleko. The elf's eyes widened in shock at the suggestion and he puffed up his chest proudly. A thought and a small gesture transformed his clothes into clerical robes.
"I apologize if I appear like I want your money. Nothing could be further from the truth," he said. "The coins are tokens to signify membership in the Grey Company. Possession allows membership. It appears from what I have heard that you would be one whom Grey House would be proud to have as a member. Am I correct Cerrakean?" The hobgoblin sniffed.
"I reckon," she said blandly. "If there were still a Grey House to be a member of. The more I think about it, the more I think that the Grey Company's pretty well through." She shrugged and scratched at one hairy armpit.
"So long as you live, Cerrakean, there is a Grey Company," Maleko assured her. "You're a Grey Lord are you not?" She shrugged again.
"That doesn't really mean much any more, elf," she sighed. "One Lord doesn't really make a Company, now does it?"
"There's still Abernathy, don't forget. And Ocif. And the House itself," Maleko went on. "I have a coin. And Morier has more." Cerrakean's expression darkened and she turned away, muttering, "I reckon," one last time.
"Regardless, Morier, I would be honored for you to keep one of the coins," the elf said, nonplussed by the hobgoblin's attitude. "I believe you have ones in your possession that once belonged to Ledare Eelsof'faw, Finian Telteppe, Kirnoth Val Satha, and Draelond Khemir. They were the last recorded members to possess these items."
"Of those you named, I only ever knew Ledare," Morier said and Ixin nodded.
"Finian and Draelond both fell before Morier joined," she told them. "Finian died days prior, but Draelond was killed the very day we first met Morier. In fact if Draelond had not fallen in battle, we might not have been so quick to welcome Morier into our group."
"It's strange to hear you speak so knowledgeably of such things," Morier admitted to her. "You look so different from the Ixin I knew." The woman's eyes flashed at the albino and then she looked away.
"I AM different, Morier," she said. "When one falls so many times into its embrace, the grave eventually leaves its mark on you."
"What of Kirnoth?" Maleko asked, hoping to take the focus off Ixin's deaths and rebirths for a moment. Morier and Ayremac exchanged glances, remembering their battle after securing the Keys.
"That's complicated," the sorceress said her eyes downcast. "We think that he's been turned to Aphyx."
"That's horrible!" Maleko exclaimed. "All the more reason to repopulate the Grey Company with honorable souls. If you were to give them to me, Morier, I would be honored to offer one to Del, Ixin and Ayremac."
Morier looked around at them and shrugged. He opened the Valiant Vessel bag and found the mithril coins on top as if they were the last items placed within although he was sure that he hadn't seen them on previous inspections of Huzair's things. He held them up and Maleko took three and distributed them around.
"We would be honored if you accepted these symbols of our order and continue to fight for our cause," Maleko said once he'd passed them out. "They also would work as a wonderful tracking device should we be separated if that is all you wish them to be. I believe in your heart, each of you know this is the right thing to do."
Morier looked at the coin in his hand and wondered whose it had been previously. It didn't really matter. It was only a symbol. He wondered if Ixin remembered the tiny pin he'd given her and the others in Hillville Junction. That too had been a symbol. The VQS... Vla'rinnyn Quarth Sila... Brotherhood of the Order Bringers... He laughed at himself and slipped the coin around his neck.
Ayremac, for the first time since... well, since a long time ago, felt the seeds of cooperation, comradre, and fellowship being sowed. It brought a smile to his face. As much as skulking around the temple, safe, warm, and well-fed, was a welcome break from time on the trail, it was nice to be back in the thick of things and to be back with a face he recognized.
"Morier, do you know which direction we should go?" he asked, expecting an immediate: yes. Instead, Morier just looked at him seriously.
"We must find her body, Ayremac, and we cannot afford delay," the eldritch warrior said, turning that serious look on each of his companions. "I may harbor the essence of a goddess, but my body is decidedly mortal. The stakes are suddenly unimagineably high, and I hope that may go some way in explaining why I had to dispatch Saelus in the manner that I did just before you arrived."
"It does," Ayremac nodded. "And I can well understand your desire for haste. I believe that we are all behind you on this. So which way do we go?" Morier sighed and shook his head.
"I don't know," he said and Ayremac looked shocked.
"But you always know where to go." he exclaimed. "What about the Pull?"
"Gone once I found the Heart," the eldritch warrior told him, apologetically.
"So... what? We just pick a direction and take off blindly?" Ixin scoffed.
"That would be unwise," Maleko cautioned. "The Astral Plane is vast. Infinitely so, in fact. Drifting around aimlessly will accomplish little."
"Well I wouldn't suggest heading back toward Akiv-tchai," a familiar voice chirped. They turned and saw Grandfather Plaque hovering behind the group. He smiled back at them sheepishly. "I sort of... abandoned my post... Can I come with you?"
"You are welcome to join us, Grandfather Plaque," Ayremac told him.
"Not that we know where we're going," Ixin added and the construct raised a stony eyebrow.
"Oh?" he quipped. "At loose ends are we?"
"Something like that," Maleko nodded. "Do you know anything about the astral plane?" The wizened face pondered that question for a moment.
"No. My field of knowledge is actually limited more or less to doors," he admitted at last, adding, "But I can speak Terran!"
"I'll remember that if we meet any earth elementals," the mage-priest replied glumly.
"Well we can't just drift around without a heading," Del said. "That much is clear."
"Right," Maleko said with a firm nod. "And from what you've told us, Morier, we need to find the God Islands. That's the only thing that I can think of that comes close to what you're describing."
"So where's that, fancy pants?" Cerrakean asked and Maleko shrugged.
"I have no idea," he said. "I've read little on the astral plane and even less on the subject of dead gods. But if we're going to find Dridana's body, the God Islands is the logical place to start." Cerrakean snorted.
"Yeah!" she groused. "If we knew where that was!"
"I could pray for some guidance," Maleko suggested, indicating the holy symbol he wore. "Nethlar is all-knowing..." Cerrakean threw up her red hands.
"All we do is sit around and fret and pray and get nowhere!" the hobgoblin cursed. "We need to act!"
"Cerrakean, your attitude is not helping the situation," Del interceded. "If you have nothing constructive to add-"
"What about J'inn and J'ann?" Ixin interrupted.
"What about 'em?" Cerrakean snapped, but Ayremac smiled broadly at the sorcerer.
"Ixin, you're a genius!" he beamed. "That's a fantastic idea." The mage blushed and for a moment, her red face was visible even through her ceremonial face-paint.
"Who or what are J'inn and J'ann?" Morier asked.
"They're natives of the astral plane," Ayremac told him. "If anyone can act as guides for us, it's them."
"Fine," Morier nodded. "But let's not divulge too much to them or anyone else regarding what we're up to. The success of our quest might depend on our discretion."
The group conferred, using Ayremac's touchstone to establish the direction that lead to Avik-tchai, and determining through consensus the route by which they'd approached the citadel from the deathspider. Once they had that fixed in their minds, they estimated the proper vector that would take them back there from their present location.
It was at best a rough estimate, but it was better than nothing.
The astral plane was barren.
They all knew that, of course, but it was truly hammered home after they'd been flying for what seemed like a long time without any change in their surroundings. They saw twinkling motes of color flickering in the distance and enormous clouds of far off luminescence that billowed up and swirled through the action of unfelt currents. But they saw nothing solid or living in all the time they travelled... how ever long that actually was.
Eventually, they saw a shadow in the distance ahead of them and a bit below, and as they approached it resolved itself into a vast cloud of stones and rocks that stretched off into the silver twilight, growing denser as it went. Most of the stones were small, the size of a thumb or fist. But some were as big as heads or whole torsos, and at the limits of visibility they could see ones that were larger still.
"The Chain of Tears," Ayremac said, gesturing to the drifting mass of stones. "J'inn and J'ann live somewhere in there."
"Somewhere?" Cerrakean scoffed. "And just how are we supposed to find 'em in there? There isn't a door to knock on!"
"Last time, Ixin and I just waited," Ayremac explained. "Eventually, they found us."
"Eventually?" the hobgoblin sneered and Ayremac nodded sagely.
"Crap," she spat and grabbed one of the drifting rocks, hurling it into the cloud. It struck one of its fellows and ricocheted setting off a satisfying chain reaction of clattering stones. The hobgoblin grinned and grabbed another.
They passed the time like that for a while, but eventually they tired of the game and contented themselves with other tasks as they waited, swapping stories, resting and keeping watch. Eventually, Del pointed at a shape coming toward them from the expanse of the astral sea bordering the Chain of Tears.
"What's that?" he asked warily as he squinted at the shape. Ayremac looked where the half-elf was pointing and his face grew pale.
"It's a retriever," he said grimly and immediately set about readying himself for combat.
"A what?" Morier asked, squinting at the shape as it drew inexorably closer.
"A sort of demonic golem," Maleko explained. "They're created through foul sorceries to serve powerful demons as warriors and servants. Most texts speculate that their overall design emulates the corporeal appearance of the bebelith in-"
"Maleko!" Ixin snapped, drawing the elf out of his recitation. "Can you tell us anything useful?" Maleko nodded, his eyes fixed on the retriever. It looked like an enormous spider, and while it was difficult to tell for sure at this distance, it seemed to be big - twice the size of a man, maybe more. Its four front limbs ended in wicked black cleavers, each like the blade of a massive scythe. A cluster of multi-colord eyes glowed atop its small head.
"It's a construct, not a demon, so it won't be hurt by any magic that targets a living creature. Necromantic effects, and the like will be useless. As will mind-effecting spells," he said. "It's very singular in its purpose; it was sent for a reason and it won't stop until it's dead or it's retrieved what it's after." The elf looked from the approaching thing to Morier's chest and realization flooded his features.
Maleko looked abashed, surprised that he hadn't more quickly put together the retriever's presence and Morier's desire to keep a low profile. "Quickly, let's fall back into the debris and we can tangle it in my Web," the elf suggested, pointing at the cloud of rocks at their backs. "It may buy us time against its blades and other attacks."
"Right," Cerrakean agreed, her voice full of uncertainty. "I'm more used to fighting people, not big bugs!" Ixin snorted at the hobgoblin's reticence and stood defiantly at Ayremac's side.
“Morier, you at least should move back into the debris field. If this thing is as powerful as it looks you may need to make a run for it," the Officer of Umba told him, while never taking his eyes off the construct as it moved slowly toward them. "We will hold it here, and if you think we can take it down, then come out and join us… if not…” Ayremac fixed his eyes on Morier’s, pausing for only the briefest moment, but conveying in that span all the things that warriors could in such a moment.
“You run…" the celestial said, gravely. "Your mission - your cargo - is too precious.” Morier sighed.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Ayremac," the albino said, pausing for a breath to cast a Quickened Bull's Strength on himself. "But if it gets passed you, then what? It'll leave me all alone with this thing on my trail. The best bet is to stand here and face it together. The more force we can bring to bear on it now the better chance we have of ending it."
"Well spoken," Grandfather Plaque said, hovering near Morier's shoulder. "You can certainly count on what meager powers I have." Morier smiled and nodded then reached for his empty scabbard.
He paused, nonplussed.
"Here you go," Maleko said, unsheathing his longsword. "I do not know how to use it well, anyway." He tossed the brilliantly-decorated sword to the albino who deftly caught in in one hand. It was a far lighter weapon than he was used to, but its craftsmanship was obvious at a glance.
"Bhaal's balls!" Cerrakean cursed, unsheathing her black scimitars with a dangerous hiss. "If everybody else is gonna line up to get killed, I reckon I can take my turn in the queue!"
"That's the spirit!" Del said adjusting the bolts in his repeating hand-crossbow. "Together we can win out!" Cerrakean sneered at the half elf and twirled her scimitars with deadly precision.
"Save your pep talk, brown eyes!" she grumbled. "You'll need that breath to give your condolences to the survivors... If there are any."
"Maleko?" Ixin asked without taking her eyes off the retriever as it drew slowly closer. "Do you suppose that thing is in Magic Missile range?"
"I think it is," Maleko said, brandishing his wand.
"Let us find out!" Grandfather Plaque added with a wink.
And so the battle was enjoined at range. Ixin, Maleko and Grandfather Plaque unleashed a salvo of Magic Missiles that peppered the Retriever mercilessly. It absorbed the eleven bolts of force and kept on coming. Ixin's spellcasting was Quickened by the very nature of the Astral Plane and she found herself able at once to cast Magic Missile again, so she hit the construct with another three for good measure.
One of the Retriever's eyes flared red in response and a crimson ray lanced out at Ixin, striking the sorceress before she could move to avoid it. She managed to invoke a spell shield which abrogated some of the damage, but all it really did was prevent her from being immolated at once. She still suffered greatly, screaming out as flames danced over her shoulders charring the flesh on her face and neck and searing the hair from the side of her skull.
Morier darted forward, slipping an arm through the crook of the woman's elbow in an effort to haul her away from the front line, but she shook him off.
"Le' me go!" she growled, her words barely intelligible since her lips were split and swelling. Her left eye was a blackened horror, but a fierce determination shone in the other. "I can do this!"
Del raised his hand crossbow and squeezed off a couple of shots. The first struck amidst the cluster of eyes on the Retriever's head, but the second was wide and the bolt sailed off into the silver void, disappearing rapidly from sight.
The construct absorbed the damage and kept on coming.
"Fall back into the rocks!" Ayremac commanded. "Now!"
Morier, Del and Cerrakean started in that direction, but Ixin paused long enough to cast a Quickened Magic Missile, working the enhanced magic despite her devastating injuries. Three Missiles impacted the Retriever but it came on, undaunted. Grandfather Plaque spat four Missiles of his own at the thing.
It absorbed the damage and kept on coming.
Rather than add his wand to the attack, Maleko moved toward Ixin, spontaneously channeling the energy from a second spell valance into a Cure Moderate Wounds spell. "Ixin, wait," he ordered. As the woman turned Maleko placed his hands gently on her head, praying, "May Nethlar give you the strength to continue your quest for the knowledge to save our world from the plague that has befallen it."
At his touch, the worst of the blackened char flaked off, revealing angry red skin beneath. Ixin looked at him gratefully, her green eyes swimming with relief. She felt the pain from her burned head subside and a warm wave went through her body as the healing took place.
"Thank you," Ixin said kindly. Then she quickly turned to reface the menace that approached with a sneer of hated.
"Maleko, if we're going to try trapping it with your Web spell, then we need to fall back!" Ayremac said again and the elf nodded his understanding as he hurried off into the field of stones. "That goes for you too, Ixin. I'd rather not usher any more friends so soon to Umba's judgement."
As the sorcerer complied with his order, Ayremac spared a look back at the Retriever. It had closed half the distance, and as he watched, he saw another of the construct's eyes flare like a star. Before he could do more than register what he'd seen, a ray of brilliant white struck him in the breastplate, riming his armor with hoarfrost and chilling him savagely. Despite his innate Celestial resistance to both magic and cold, being struck by the ray felt like having a red hot poker driven into his chest. He activated his Sacred Healing ability and felt his injuries begin to ease as he moved off into the cloud of stones.
It was slower going within the drifting mass of rocks, all it took was Cerrakean suffering a stout blow to the head for them to realize the folly of moving through the unpredictable cloud with haste. The Retriever was only mildly inconvenienced by the stones, it seemed. It came on with the ting-ta-ting-ting of stones on its armored carapace heralding it.
The construct aimed another ray at Ayremac - this one a brilliant blue color - but a largish stone drifted between him and the Retriever, and the Officer of Umba was spared its effects as a cloud of sparks exploded around the stone. Ayremac hastily called on his divine heritage and invoked a Cure Serious Wounds spell, channelling the power into his own frostbitten body.
"Is this far enough to enact your plan, Maleko?" the holy warrior called and the elf surveyed the surroundings.
"I'm not sure how effective this is going to be," Maleko admitted. "I've never cast Web in such an environment nor read of any mage who has. I could see the spell slowing it down, or at least tangling its legs and requiring it to take time to cut its way out. But-"
"But it's our best shot right now," Ayremac interjected. Maleko nodded his understanding and began to cast.
That's all the farther he got before the Quickened Web went off, filling the area around the Retriever with a many-layered mass of sticky strands. The construct was surprisingly agile for something so huge, and aided, as Ayremac had been, by the intervention of a drifting rock, so it wasn't immobilized by the Web. But it still plowed straight forward through it, entangling itself rather badly as a result.
Another of the Retriever's eyes winked, and a sickly gray beam lanced out at the elf who had impeded it. Maleko tried to dodge, but despite the intervening rocks and stones, the ray struck him in the leg and he felt the limb grow heavy. A strange sensation spread through his body and he recognized it from descriptions he'd read in the memoirs of adventurers and explorers who had survived encounters with medusae. He very nearly succumbed, but he was able to resist the Petrification attack by the slimmest of margins and looked up in time to see another bolt from Del's crossbow clatter across the construct's hull.
“Keep its attention on us…” Ayremac directed and maneuvered closer to the thing. At a command, his Shield of Blinding flashed dazzlingly catching the entangled Retriever full in its array of eyes. It thrashed around, obviously blind.
Ixin urged herself forward casting a Quickened Scorching Ray at the disoriented Retriever. Somehow she managed to miss, despite her target's size and relative helplessness. She followed that spell up with another Scorching Ray that sent fire washing over the Retriever. The Webs entangling it began to go up as well, but that only served to burn the thing further.
Grandfather Plaque, flew between Ixin and Ayremac, coming closer than the others and opened his mouth to deliver a vicious Shout. The sonic attack struck the Retriever solidly and sent a network of hairline cracks across its body.
Maleko drew his wand and sent a quartet of Magic Missiles into the Retriever, which did little now besides thrash amidst the burning webs. It lurched forward toward the last opponent it had seen nearby, a cleaver the size of a greatsword reaching out blindly toward the Officer of Umba. The claw slammed down on a rock nearby causing the stone to explode in a hail of gravel. The strength behind that blow was titanic, and Ayremac did not wish to be on the receiving end of such if he could avoid it.
As another pair of bolts from Del's crossbow stabbed down into the Retriever, the holy warrior raised Fedifensor. He could sense the evil that had created the construct; it radiated from the thing like a palpable field of malevolence. The sword was eager to destroy it and so was he.
He Smote it, driving the longsword into the twisted mess of blades and eyes that served as the construct's head, and the Retriever fell beneath the blade. The twin purities of Law and Good stabbed deeply at the malignant auras of Chaos and Evil that drove the thing, disrupting it. For a moment it shuddered and twitched, but then it belched a cloud of abyssal smoke and came apart, bleeding tarnished cogs and rusty springs.
"Is everyone all right?" Ayremac asked, looking around at his companions. His enquiry was met with nods and calls of assent. "Good," he replied, sheathing Fedifensor. "I think this thing-"
"Bringing your battles to our doorstep, now?" a voice whispered out of the air in their midst. It was J'inn, or J'ann. It was impossible to tell which. "Rather poor form, considering how well we aided you when last we met. Wait. We'll be right there."
"Where are you?" Ayremac asked, looking about for any sign of the Buommans. There was none. "J'inn? J'ann?" Maleko shook his head.
"Don't bother, Ayremac," the elf said "That was a Whispering Wind spell. They probably can't hear you. They could be miles from here."
"They must be close enough to see us," Del observed. "Their timing is too good for them not to have witnessed the Retriever's destruction."
"Good point," Maleko admitted. "I hadn't-"
"What the hell is that?" Cerrakean demanded, pointing with one of her scimitars at the mass of floating debris that had been the Retriever. They followed her blade and saw a darkened metal sphere no bigger than a walnut etched entirely with runes and sigils. It was moving away from the debris with intent on a course that mirrored the construct's initial approach.
"I don't know," Maleko admitted. "I don't think that Retrievers normally do that. At least none of the ones I've ever read about."
"I think we should definitely attend to this thing," Del observed. "If the Retriever's sole purpose was to destroy whatever it was after, I am sure it is trying to report back its failure in that regard."
"Actually, a Retriever's sole purpose is to 'retrieve' whatever it is after, not destroy it," Maleko corrected earning himself a disapproving look from Del. The elf quickly added, "I imagine a Web would totally encompass it now. Maybe some of Ayremac's holy magic would do the trick here as well."
"Perhaps," Ayremac said drifting to the fore of the little band and calling down a Holy Smite on the fleeing object. It did not slow down in its course.
"Or perhaps not," Cerrakean smirked and Ixin cast a withering look in her direction.
"Web it is then," Maleko announced and cast a Quickened Web on the thing, entombing it in a net of sticky strands and floating rocks. He followed that up with another Cure Wounds spell that completely erased Ixin's suffering. Only the ruined face paint and the hair burned away from her head on one side remained as a reminder of the Retriever's attack.
"Thank you," Ixin said again and cast a Quickened Magic Missile spell, sending a trio of bolts into the entangled thing. It was still moving so she followed it up with another Magic Missile spell. It seemed unfazed by the attack and Ixin growled lightly and rolled her shoulders, ready to begin another barrage of force on the thing, Ayremac knew that she could cast that spell more than of a dozen times before needing to rest; he had seen her do so back at the Court in Frothingham. But Maleko laid a hand on her arm before she could begin the casting again.
"Don't bother," he told her. "While Magic Missile is a favorite of martial-minded spellcasters everywhere - and rightly so - it does have its limitations. I believe this thing exploits one of those imitations." Grandfather Plaque drifted forward, floating backward so that he could grin at them as he went.
"Allow me to try," he said before turning around and moving close to the entangled thing. He opened his mouth and Shouted at it, pulverizing it utterly with sonic energy. He drifted back with a smug smile on his stony lips.
"Well done," Del said and Grandfather Plaque rolled his eyes in a way that said 'all in a day's work'.
"He seems pleased with himself," Ayremac remarked to Morier, grinning at the construct's self-satisfaction. Morier's face, when the holy warrior turned, however was serious.
"Ayremac, I appreciate the protection, but I am highly unaccustomed to taking a back seat in battle, and it's not something I intend on doing much of going forward," the albino told him. "If I feel as though my life is in danger I will retreat, but I simply can't stand back and let everyone else protect me."
"But the Heart..." Ayremac began and Morier shook his head.
"I understand the sentiment," he countered, "but remember that I have survived this long by fighting where the situation warrants... No need to change that now." Ayremac considered this and then nodded his agreement.
"The heart of a warrior is not easily stilled when battle calls," he said. "I will not stand in your way if you feel that the front lines are where you should be."
Del too registered Morier's desire to be involved in subsequent fights, and realized as Ayremac did, that there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. If the drow wanted to fight then no amount of baby-sitting was going to keep him out of the fray. However, he also knew that there was no denying the importance of the magic Morier bore in his chest, and he made a mental note to adjust his tactical planning to place someone close to the drow at all times.
“Now, what are you comfortable revealing to J'inn and J'ann?" Ayremac asked the eldritch warrior as he sheathed Fedifensor at his hip. "They will want to know why we need access to the God Islands, I'm sure.”
"If you are willing to vouch for the Buommans, as you have, then I am willing to be fairly trusting," Morier replied with a single nod.
"What can we offer J'inn and J'ann for their help?" Del asked and both Morier and Ayremac turned to look at him.
"You don't think that the goodwill of having previous interaction with most of this group, will be enough to get them to help?" Morier asked and Del shrugged.
"I don't know, " he admitted. "I'd like to think so, but I like to be prepared for other eventualities, too."
"I think the time for preparations is passed," Maleko said, pointing. "Here they come."
The Buommans approached from deeper within the Chain of Tears, moving with great speed through the rocks. Their movements were balletic and sinuous, involving a great del of spinning and rolling as they tumbled forward through the roiling cloud of stones. Occasionally they would use a rock as a jumping-off point to propel themselves forward, other times they would clasp hands and wheel one another on through force of limb alone. It was an impressive display of agility and cooperation which, several of the group suspected, was entirely put on to impress them.
"What brings you back so soon, Ayremac?" J'inn called when they got close enough.
"We hardly had time to miss you," J'ann added, spinning through the air to stop at his twin's side. "Did you make it to Akiv-tchai?"
"I did," Ayremac said. "Your help was invaluable."
"And you made it out alive," J'inn observed, elbowing his twin. "I was confident that you would." J'ann scowled and produced a silver piece that he reluctantly handed over to J'inn.
"So what brings you back to the Chain of Tears?" J'ann asked. "This isn't exactly the safest part of the Astral Sea as you can tell." He indicated the remains of the Retriever and swatted a smallish stone away from his face.
"We need to visit the God Islands," the holy warrior said and J'inn and J'ann's faces snapped shut like books.
"That isn't going to happen," J'inn said simply while J'ann sang softly, "Never gonna get it. Never gonna get it. Never gonna get it. You'll never get it."
"It's vitally important," Ixin interjected and J'inn sniffed.
"Good bye," J'inn said, turning to leave. "Don't come back here."
"It's no longer safe for you," J'ann added.
"Wait!" Morier said, drifting forward. "We have been charged to visit the tomb of the goddess Dridana. It may have a crucial bearing on the outcome of a scourge set upon the material plane by Aphyx."
"Then you have been charged falsely," J'inn said. "There is no tomb to visit."
"And any who would charge you thus are fools," J'ann added. "You can go back and tell them I said so."
"Look," Morier snapped. "No one told us where to go. We've been feeling our way through this pretty much in the dark, but we know that we need to reunite Dridana's Heart with her body. And we've got the Heart!" He pulled aside his mail enough for the verdant glow of the gemstone to spill out across his pale features and those of the two Buommans. "We just need to find her body."
J'inn and J'ann turned to look at Morier and wonder began to spread across their faces. J'inn drifted forward slowly, hand outstretched to touch the gem.His pale fingertips brushed its surface and his mouth opened in astonishment. Morier drew back and covered the gemstone once more.
"We can take you as far as Discord," J'ann said, his entire demeanor changed from antagonism to cooperation. "But it's not up to us to take you to the other God Islands."
"That is up to the Threnodies, and ultimately the Guardian himself," J'inn added before looking at his twin and saying, "I imagine that at the very least they'll have to pass through the hall of mirrors."
"But they're not Buommans," J'ann observed and J'inn shrugged.
"Not for us to decide," he replied and beckoned for the group to follow him. "Come on, we'll take you to Discord."
The journey was impossibly fast. They came upon the massive settlement mere moments after setting off after J'inn and J'ann. A largish rock drifted in front of them and when it passed from their field of vision beyond they saw Discord.
And what a sight it was.
A stone head of immense size hung suspended in the silver expanse, its angle in space suggesting repose although its unseeing stone eyes were open and staring off into the void. Its features were unmistakably female and serenely beautiful. The twisted arrow, Chaos symbol of change was worked into the vast otherwise unblemished forehead. The stone neck ended in a jagged break about mid-way down and of the stone body there was no sign. The entire left side of the stone head was covered with buildings like some kind of strange tumorous mass. A large stone keep with crenelated towers rose above the thatched roofs of the smaller buildings, and numerous figures, no bigger than grains of sand to the enormous stone head moved about and between the buildings.
"Relative of yours?" Cerrakean asked, nudging Grandfather Plaque with her elbow. The stone construct said nothing; he was speechless.
"Welcome to Discord," J'ann said, gesturing expansively as they drifted closer and closer to the settlement and the great stone head filled more and more of their field of vision.
"We'll find a place for you to stay until we can speak with the Threnodies on your behalf," J'inn added. "Meantime, feel free to look around."
"Just don't try to leave without an escort," J'ann cautioned. "This part of the Astral is... unforgiving of those unused to it."
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