KidCthulhu
First Post
Yay, Null Shadows. Everyone's favorite monster. Sagiro, you're a rat bastard and a genius.
Welcome to the Halmae (updated 2/27/07)
- Thread starter spyscribe
- Start date
spyscribe
First Post
Part the One-Hundred Fifty-Sixth
In which: if there were only four archmages, this would be the end of our mission.
The party has retreated to the top of the nearest dune, and made their camp in view of the tower’s single open window. Although they have kept careful watch, aside from the sudden flare of light at sunset, there has been no sign of life from the tower.
“Um, should we maybe call out?” Thatch suggests.
“If she does not know we are here, she is perhaps not powerful enough to warrant our consideration,” Anvil responds.
Eva, thinking that this is possibly an unwise way to speak of an archmage while camped on her doorstep, is about to say as much to Anvil, when suddenly a section of the base of the tower begins to shimmer. The stone suddenly flows apart, creating a passageway. A figure emerges from the interior and makes its way towards the party.
“Anvil, I really hope she didn’t just hear you,” Eva whispers.
The party goes to meet the figure halfway down the dune. It is a human woman, about thirty years old, give or take a year or two from having lived in the high desert. She is dressed simply in a loose gown of thin white linen, and wears her red hair in a single braid that hangs down her back. Her only adornments are a gold circlet that rests on her forehead and a wooden Ehktian holy symbol that hangs around her neck.
She regards the party carefully. If she is not exactly welcoming, she does not seem hostile either. Merely curious. “You have traveled far to come here, strangers. Across the fiery heat of the desert, past the many obstacles the sands present,” she states, in an oddly formal tone.
No one really knows what to say to that. Finally, Thatch offers “Um… yes.”
“What purpose has set your feet upon this path?”
“You are Manaal al Amani?” Anvil asks.
“I am.”
“Then we come to bring you an invitation.”
Anvil introduces the party and briefly explains their mission. He presents Manaal with the invitation from the Mages’ Academy and the letters from the four major Temples of Dar Pykos.
Manaal consults these first, initially reading over them quickly, but going back to the letter from the Temple of Ehkt to peruse it more closely. She then turns her attention to the invitation.
When she finishes, she carefully rolls up the invitation and returns the letters from the Temples to Anvil. “A worthy challenge. But I must meditate on it before I can offer a response. You are welcome to partake of my hospitality while I contemplate the matter.”
The party is unsure whether or not to accept, but simple courtesy (as well as the desire not to offend their obviously powerful host) suggests that accepting is the best course of action. Manaal leads them towards her tower.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Lira begins, indicating the dead Ebisites lying about in the sand, “but it looks like many of these soldiers were burned to death.”
Manall raises an eyebrow, and, noticing Lira’s holy symbol, gives her a long stare. “Indeed.”
“It’s our understanding that arcane magic cannot create fire.”
“Normally, your understanding would be correct.”
“Normally? Are you… are you a divine caster as well then?”
Manaal watches Lira calmly and replies, “I am Ehkt’s Chosen Son.”
###
The ground level of Manaal’s tower is a single unfurnished room. A shallow staircase winds along the inside of the exterior wall and leads up to the next floor. There is no door to the outside; the archmage stone shapes an entrance when she needs one. There are no windows, either, though the blocked off remains of one are evident. (The party will later be able to confirm their theory that there is a brick-up window on every level of the tower.) Instead of natural light, torches set in sconces at regular intervals around the room and up the stairs provide more than ample illumination.
It is incredibly hot.
Manaal leads the party up two levels to a room with an intricately woven rug and a few small sideboards along the walls. The combination of hot stone and no ventilation is stifling. On one of the sideboards are several carafes of water, and she indicates that the adventurers should help themselves. Although they are sweating profusely, Manaal seems fine.
“Do you desire food?” she asks.
Thatch nods, hungrily, although Anvil informs Manaal that they have their own supplies.
She shakes her head. “That will not be necessary. If you will give me a few moments…?”
The party members are a bit puzzled when Manaal sits down on one side of the carpet and begins to chant.
And chant.
The chanting goes on for approximately ten minutes, and then suddenly a low table, laden with every sort of food the party can imagine is laid out before her. Manaal opens her eyes. “Please,” she invites the party, “eat.”
The food is sumptuous. A feast, in fact, fit for heroes. Manaal eats with them, and as the meal is gradually dispatched, the party members learn a bit more about Manaal, and she about them.
The party’s first interest is in Manaal’s ability to cast both arcane and divine spells.
“Even as child, I knew I had been touched by the Lord. I was gifted with the ability to channel His divine nature, to know His divine will. As I grew older and my understanding of His ways grew deeper, I came to study the arcane arts.”
“Why?” Lira asks, fiercely curious.
“Because it was His will that I do so.”
“To what end?”
“I do not know. But I have no doubt that He will reveal that to me in His time.”
“But, if you’re his umm…” Thatch seems a bit reluctant to be speaking up, but holds his ground, “I mean, if you’re his Chosen Son, shouldn’t you… y’know… know?”
Manaal does not seem offended by the question. “It is true I have an understanding greater then most, but His designs are not always clear, even to me.”
“Did He want you to live out here in the desert?” Kiara asks
“I am sure He did, after a fashion. I have never found a place so well suited to contemplating His ways.”
“And this tower? You built it yourself, all the way out here?”
Manaal nods. “It has been no small undertaking. There is an abandoned city not far from here. I bring the stone from there, and have been slowly building the tower ever since I arrived.”
“You speak as if this tower is not yet complete,” Anvil notes.
Manaal fixes him with a curious look. “The tower is never completed. It is a monument to the Lord, a reminder of how we must constantly strive to attain the unattainable.”
No one has anything to say to that. Fortunately, Kiara is always willing to fill an awkward silence. “We thought Lira was the only person in the world who could cast both arcane and divine spells.”
Lira blushes about five shades of red, but meets Manaal’s curious gaze. “I’m a sorcerer, but I ah… have been recently blessed with divine abilities.”
Manaal seems intrigued, but unlike the last archmage who found Lira interesting, does not offer to remove her sorcerous heritage. “I would know more of this,” she says.
Lira recounts, more or less, her discovery of her divine abilities. Manaal listens thoughtfully to the story. Then, quite unexpectedly, she says “A true blessing of the Lord. If you wish, you may stay here to study His ways with me.”
Lira isn’t quite sure what to say. A chance to learn more about her own abilites, to study with someone who shares them… it is incredibly tempting. On the other hand, Ehkt has already given her a challenge to attend to. And Manaal does seem a trifle… extreme in her devotion. Still… “Well, I… obviously not immediately. We do still have another archmage to find.”
“Naturally.”
“How long would this study take?”
Manaal fixes the young sorcerer with a penetrating stare. “That is not something I can say. Do you have something more pressing?”
Lira ducks her head. “I don’t know. I guess I just still have a lot of questions.”
Manall smiles, not unkindly. “You will find that there is only one answer.”
“Right.” Lira takes a large mouthful of cous cous to try and put an end to this particular line of conversation. “So, er, what exactly happened out there? With the soldiers?”
And Manaal proceeds to tell them…
In which: if there were only four archmages, this would be the end of our mission.
The party has retreated to the top of the nearest dune, and made their camp in view of the tower’s single open window. Although they have kept careful watch, aside from the sudden flare of light at sunset, there has been no sign of life from the tower.
“Um, should we maybe call out?” Thatch suggests.
“If she does not know we are here, she is perhaps not powerful enough to warrant our consideration,” Anvil responds.
Eva, thinking that this is possibly an unwise way to speak of an archmage while camped on her doorstep, is about to say as much to Anvil, when suddenly a section of the base of the tower begins to shimmer. The stone suddenly flows apart, creating a passageway. A figure emerges from the interior and makes its way towards the party.
“Anvil, I really hope she didn’t just hear you,” Eva whispers.
The party goes to meet the figure halfway down the dune. It is a human woman, about thirty years old, give or take a year or two from having lived in the high desert. She is dressed simply in a loose gown of thin white linen, and wears her red hair in a single braid that hangs down her back. Her only adornments are a gold circlet that rests on her forehead and a wooden Ehktian holy symbol that hangs around her neck.
She regards the party carefully. If she is not exactly welcoming, she does not seem hostile either. Merely curious. “You have traveled far to come here, strangers. Across the fiery heat of the desert, past the many obstacles the sands present,” she states, in an oddly formal tone.
No one really knows what to say to that. Finally, Thatch offers “Um… yes.”
“What purpose has set your feet upon this path?”
“You are Manaal al Amani?” Anvil asks.
“I am.”
“Then we come to bring you an invitation.”
Anvil introduces the party and briefly explains their mission. He presents Manaal with the invitation from the Mages’ Academy and the letters from the four major Temples of Dar Pykos.
Manaal consults these first, initially reading over them quickly, but going back to the letter from the Temple of Ehkt to peruse it more closely. She then turns her attention to the invitation.
When she finishes, she carefully rolls up the invitation and returns the letters from the Temples to Anvil. “A worthy challenge. But I must meditate on it before I can offer a response. You are welcome to partake of my hospitality while I contemplate the matter.”
The party is unsure whether or not to accept, but simple courtesy (as well as the desire not to offend their obviously powerful host) suggests that accepting is the best course of action. Manaal leads them towards her tower.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Lira begins, indicating the dead Ebisites lying about in the sand, “but it looks like many of these soldiers were burned to death.”
Manall raises an eyebrow, and, noticing Lira’s holy symbol, gives her a long stare. “Indeed.”
“It’s our understanding that arcane magic cannot create fire.”
“Normally, your understanding would be correct.”
“Normally? Are you… are you a divine caster as well then?”
Manaal watches Lira calmly and replies, “I am Ehkt’s Chosen Son.”
###
The ground level of Manaal’s tower is a single unfurnished room. A shallow staircase winds along the inside of the exterior wall and leads up to the next floor. There is no door to the outside; the archmage stone shapes an entrance when she needs one. There are no windows, either, though the blocked off remains of one are evident. (The party will later be able to confirm their theory that there is a brick-up window on every level of the tower.) Instead of natural light, torches set in sconces at regular intervals around the room and up the stairs provide more than ample illumination.
It is incredibly hot.
Manaal leads the party up two levels to a room with an intricately woven rug and a few small sideboards along the walls. The combination of hot stone and no ventilation is stifling. On one of the sideboards are several carafes of water, and she indicates that the adventurers should help themselves. Although they are sweating profusely, Manaal seems fine.
“Do you desire food?” she asks.
Thatch nods, hungrily, although Anvil informs Manaal that they have their own supplies.
She shakes her head. “That will not be necessary. If you will give me a few moments…?”
The party members are a bit puzzled when Manaal sits down on one side of the carpet and begins to chant.
And chant.
The chanting goes on for approximately ten minutes, and then suddenly a low table, laden with every sort of food the party can imagine is laid out before her. Manaal opens her eyes. “Please,” she invites the party, “eat.”
The food is sumptuous. A feast, in fact, fit for heroes. Manaal eats with them, and as the meal is gradually dispatched, the party members learn a bit more about Manaal, and she about them.
The party’s first interest is in Manaal’s ability to cast both arcane and divine spells.
“Even as child, I knew I had been touched by the Lord. I was gifted with the ability to channel His divine nature, to know His divine will. As I grew older and my understanding of His ways grew deeper, I came to study the arcane arts.”
“Why?” Lira asks, fiercely curious.
“Because it was His will that I do so.”
“To what end?”
“I do not know. But I have no doubt that He will reveal that to me in His time.”
“But, if you’re his umm…” Thatch seems a bit reluctant to be speaking up, but holds his ground, “I mean, if you’re his Chosen Son, shouldn’t you… y’know… know?”
Manaal does not seem offended by the question. “It is true I have an understanding greater then most, but His designs are not always clear, even to me.”
“Did He want you to live out here in the desert?” Kiara asks
“I am sure He did, after a fashion. I have never found a place so well suited to contemplating His ways.”
“And this tower? You built it yourself, all the way out here?”
Manaal nods. “It has been no small undertaking. There is an abandoned city not far from here. I bring the stone from there, and have been slowly building the tower ever since I arrived.”
“You speak as if this tower is not yet complete,” Anvil notes.
Manaal fixes him with a curious look. “The tower is never completed. It is a monument to the Lord, a reminder of how we must constantly strive to attain the unattainable.”
No one has anything to say to that. Fortunately, Kiara is always willing to fill an awkward silence. “We thought Lira was the only person in the world who could cast both arcane and divine spells.”
Lira blushes about five shades of red, but meets Manaal’s curious gaze. “I’m a sorcerer, but I ah… have been recently blessed with divine abilities.”
Manaal seems intrigued, but unlike the last archmage who found Lira interesting, does not offer to remove her sorcerous heritage. “I would know more of this,” she says.
Lira recounts, more or less, her discovery of her divine abilities. Manaal listens thoughtfully to the story. Then, quite unexpectedly, she says “A true blessing of the Lord. If you wish, you may stay here to study His ways with me.”
Lira isn’t quite sure what to say. A chance to learn more about her own abilites, to study with someone who shares them… it is incredibly tempting. On the other hand, Ehkt has already given her a challenge to attend to. And Manaal does seem a trifle… extreme in her devotion. Still… “Well, I… obviously not immediately. We do still have another archmage to find.”
“Naturally.”
“How long would this study take?”
Manaal fixes the young sorcerer with a penetrating stare. “That is not something I can say. Do you have something more pressing?”
Lira ducks her head. “I don’t know. I guess I just still have a lot of questions.”
Manall smiles, not unkindly. “You will find that there is only one answer.”
“Right.” Lira takes a large mouthful of cous cous to try and put an end to this particular line of conversation. “So, er, what exactly happened out there? With the soldiers?”
And Manaal proceeds to tell them…
thatdarncat
Overlord of Chat
Woot 
and a 3rd storyhour update for my birthday 
thanks!
and a 3rd storyhour update for my birthday thanks!A'vandira Silvermane
Explorer
Thanks for the update Spyscribe, and thanks for calling out Jonrog1. It was this that finally got me over to read his Drunk Southern Girls with Guns SH. As far as I'm concerned you rank at the very top of high quality writers, along with Sepulchrave, Carnifex and Jonrog1. The part that sets you above them is your frequency of updating.
spyscribe
First Post
Part the One-Hundred Fifty-Seventh
Approximately 26 hours earlier...
Captain Zenobia surveys her troops. It has been a long trek through the desert, but all is ready at last. Her soldiers are in position, the handlers are prepared, and the sun casting long shadows from the horizon. The time is now.
The Captain is quite conscious of the number of officers who have failed at this task before her. As she was informed when she was given this assignment, attempts to capture, kill, or force the surrender of the rogue witch have claimed the lives of a great many loyal soldiers of Ebis.
However, none of them possessed the weapon she has at her disposal.
And, she tells herself with no small amount of satisfaction, none of them ever attained the distinction that will be hers when she succeeds.
The Captain banishes such thoughts of the future from her mind. Now is the time to focus on the present. Complete the mission first. Reap the rewards later.
“Manaal al Amani!” she calls out to the single window in the absurd tower before her. “The Empire of Ebis wishes a parlay!”
There is no response from the tower.
“We do not come with malicious intent,” the Captain lies. “We come to reach an accord. We wish to find an accommodation that will be acceptable both to you and to the Empire, an agreement of peaceful co-existence.”
A voice comes back from the tower. “I have always co-existed peacefully with the Empire. It is the Empire that has always been the aggressor against me.”
“And I can put an end to that. I can promise that the Empire will never again come to your tower. But my superiors demand certain assurances before they will agree to that. Will you parlay?”
There is silence from the tower. For a moment, the Captain knows doubt. If the witch cannot even be coaxed forth…
…but there is a sudden disturbance at the base of the tower, and an opening appears. A figure emerges, one that matches the description Captain Zenobia has been given. The witch, Manaal.
The entrance to the tower disappears behind her. Ah well, the Captain thinks. It would be easier if they could simply walk into the tower once its owner is dead. But no matter. They have both the tools and the mandate to enter the tower, whether an entrance is present or not.
Manaal approaches confidently, though her face is etched with suspicion. A strange nimbus of glowing blue flame surrounds her. Captain Zenobia inwardly sneers. Confidence may be deserved, given the fate of previous expeditions. But this time…
“Speak then, soldier of Ebis,” Manaal says. “I will hear your terms.”
“I’m sure you will,” Captain Zenobia says, and she nods to the handlers.
In an instant, the four creatures melt out of the shadows surrounding the witch and, snarling hideously, leap at her.
Null shadows, Zenobia was told they were called. Their name matters little to her. The only thing that matters is the effect they have on Manaal.
She is fast, the Captain will grant her that. Before the creatures even reach her, the witch casts a spell. There is a great explosion of fire… one which has absolutely no effect on the null shadows.
She screams as their claws rake her flesh. Whatever magical protections the blue flames grant her are useless.
Where is your confidence now? Zenobia thinks.
Manaal scrambles out of reach of the creatures. Zenobia drops her arm, signaling the archers to fire. She does not necessarily expect them to be effective, but they may distract the witch until the null shadows get their claws back into her.
She has time to get off only a single spell before they do. A great gout of flame erupts from her hand and flies forward towards Zenobia’s men, striking one and suddenly arcing in all directions, striking several more. There are screams, and some of her soldiers drop, but most hold their ground. Inwardly, Zenobia triumphs. She’s going after the men, not the creatures. Her only thought is vengeance. Not survival. A move of desperation. The day is mine!
And suddenly, something goes terribly wrong. One of the null shadows ceases its attack on the witch. It looks back towards the soldiers, snuffling at the air.
Quite suddenly, it leaps towards her men.
Confused, Zenobia looks around. What could cause them to…
And then she sees it. One of the handlers has dropped his rod.
He is scrambling forward, desperate to recover it. Zenobia’s unconscious mind intuits from his burned clothing that he must have lost it trying to evade the witch’s fireball, but her conscious mind doesn’t care. All it cares about is that he retrieves it before—
But it’s too late. The rogue null shadow leaps on one of the other handlers and tears him to shreds.
A second null shadow stops its attack. It turns back towards the handlers and snarls.
“Stop them! Get them back under control!” Zenobia shouts.
Troops rush to protect the handlers from their charges, but the damage has been done. The other handlers, seeing the gory remains of their comrade, lose their nerve and with it their control. The third and fourth null shadows stop their attacks on the witch. One springs towards the handlers, while the other launches itself towards the ranks of the clerics.
Zenobia shouts commands, desperately trying to re-establish order among her men. The creatures must be gotten back under control, must be turned back against the witch—
The witch.
Zenobia turns, but Manaal has disappeared.
The Captain’s blood runs cold.
But Manaal’s disappearance does not last long. Zenobia looks up. The witch is now standing atop her tower, far out of the reach of the null shadows. Her white robe is stained red with her own blood, and she looks down on the soldiers with an expression of terrible fury.
No one will ever know if Captain Zenobia’s last order would have been to attack or sound the retreat. She is incinerated in a burst of fiery vengeance before she has a chance to utter it.
Approximately 26 hours earlier...
Captain Zenobia surveys her troops. It has been a long trek through the desert, but all is ready at last. Her soldiers are in position, the handlers are prepared, and the sun casting long shadows from the horizon. The time is now.
The Captain is quite conscious of the number of officers who have failed at this task before her. As she was informed when she was given this assignment, attempts to capture, kill, or force the surrender of the rogue witch have claimed the lives of a great many loyal soldiers of Ebis.
However, none of them possessed the weapon she has at her disposal.
And, she tells herself with no small amount of satisfaction, none of them ever attained the distinction that will be hers when she succeeds.
The Captain banishes such thoughts of the future from her mind. Now is the time to focus on the present. Complete the mission first. Reap the rewards later.
“Manaal al Amani!” she calls out to the single window in the absurd tower before her. “The Empire of Ebis wishes a parlay!”
There is no response from the tower.
“We do not come with malicious intent,” the Captain lies. “We come to reach an accord. We wish to find an accommodation that will be acceptable both to you and to the Empire, an agreement of peaceful co-existence.”
A voice comes back from the tower. “I have always co-existed peacefully with the Empire. It is the Empire that has always been the aggressor against me.”
“And I can put an end to that. I can promise that the Empire will never again come to your tower. But my superiors demand certain assurances before they will agree to that. Will you parlay?”
There is silence from the tower. For a moment, the Captain knows doubt. If the witch cannot even be coaxed forth…
…but there is a sudden disturbance at the base of the tower, and an opening appears. A figure emerges, one that matches the description Captain Zenobia has been given. The witch, Manaal.
The entrance to the tower disappears behind her. Ah well, the Captain thinks. It would be easier if they could simply walk into the tower once its owner is dead. But no matter. They have both the tools and the mandate to enter the tower, whether an entrance is present or not.
Manaal approaches confidently, though her face is etched with suspicion. A strange nimbus of glowing blue flame surrounds her. Captain Zenobia inwardly sneers. Confidence may be deserved, given the fate of previous expeditions. But this time…
“Speak then, soldier of Ebis,” Manaal says. “I will hear your terms.”
“I’m sure you will,” Captain Zenobia says, and she nods to the handlers.
In an instant, the four creatures melt out of the shadows surrounding the witch and, snarling hideously, leap at her.
Null shadows, Zenobia was told they were called. Their name matters little to her. The only thing that matters is the effect they have on Manaal.
She is fast, the Captain will grant her that. Before the creatures even reach her, the witch casts a spell. There is a great explosion of fire… one which has absolutely no effect on the null shadows.
She screams as their claws rake her flesh. Whatever magical protections the blue flames grant her are useless.
Where is your confidence now? Zenobia thinks.
Manaal scrambles out of reach of the creatures. Zenobia drops her arm, signaling the archers to fire. She does not necessarily expect them to be effective, but they may distract the witch until the null shadows get their claws back into her.
She has time to get off only a single spell before they do. A great gout of flame erupts from her hand and flies forward towards Zenobia’s men, striking one and suddenly arcing in all directions, striking several more. There are screams, and some of her soldiers drop, but most hold their ground. Inwardly, Zenobia triumphs. She’s going after the men, not the creatures. Her only thought is vengeance. Not survival. A move of desperation. The day is mine!
And suddenly, something goes terribly wrong. One of the null shadows ceases its attack on the witch. It looks back towards the soldiers, snuffling at the air.
Quite suddenly, it leaps towards her men.
Confused, Zenobia looks around. What could cause them to…
And then she sees it. One of the handlers has dropped his rod.
He is scrambling forward, desperate to recover it. Zenobia’s unconscious mind intuits from his burned clothing that he must have lost it trying to evade the witch’s fireball, but her conscious mind doesn’t care. All it cares about is that he retrieves it before—
But it’s too late. The rogue null shadow leaps on one of the other handlers and tears him to shreds.
A second null shadow stops its attack. It turns back towards the handlers and snarls.
“Stop them! Get them back under control!” Zenobia shouts.
Troops rush to protect the handlers from their charges, but the damage has been done. The other handlers, seeing the gory remains of their comrade, lose their nerve and with it their control. The third and fourth null shadows stop their attacks on the witch. One springs towards the handlers, while the other launches itself towards the ranks of the clerics.
Zenobia shouts commands, desperately trying to re-establish order among her men. The creatures must be gotten back under control, must be turned back against the witch—
The witch.
Zenobia turns, but Manaal has disappeared.
The Captain’s blood runs cold.
But Manaal’s disappearance does not last long. Zenobia looks up. The witch is now standing atop her tower, far out of the reach of the null shadows. Her white robe is stained red with her own blood, and she looks down on the soldiers with an expression of terrible fury.
No one will ever know if Captain Zenobia’s last order would have been to attack or sound the retreat. She is incinerated in a burst of fiery vengeance before she has a chance to utter it.
You know, the best thing about that scene? Just going by the spells she casts, Manaal isn't even terribly high level. But you don't have to be 20th level to be a horrifying death machine, you just have to be higher level than anyone else in the area. Staring down from her tower, with that Bruce Lee "you made me bleed" look going...
I like Manaal. She's neat.
(I have read this story hour for a while, and I like it quite a lot.)
I like Manaal. She's neat.
(I have read this story hour for a while, and I like it quite a lot.)
KidCthulhu
First Post
OK, so let me check something. Don't Null Shadows go after the highest level arcane caster first, then the highest level divine caster next, and so on down the line until they get to the non-magical types. It's a question of who's tastiest.
So why would they go after the soldiers in preference to a nice tasty arch-mage?
So why would they go after the soldiers in preference to a nice tasty arch-mage?
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