4e ePoL

In Eldan's vision Karothen seems be someone else, a fatter older man, with a clockwork bird on his shoulder. The Magus, he feels himself frowning, he'd perfer not to have to rely on that one.

The gambit at the front gate has allowed them to shake the Ironclaw defenders.

Ahead his sister slips into another side passage, he hopes the Magus information proves as good as he swears. Of course, if he betrays them. Eldan hefts his sword, remembering old words, An oath to an oathbreaker is no oath at all.

Eldan follows the two who have promised to save the castle. He doesn't understand what they are proposing, but they assure him that the Magus' skills, mixed with something his sister found in the tunnels beneath the castle, will swing the battle in favor of the defenders. With a final glance over his shoulder, unwilling to leave his men behind, he enters the cellars.

Eldan struggles for a moment, caught between the young river-warden he knows he is, and the grizzled war veteran whose eyes he sees the world at the moment. He looks again to Karothen, seeing both the older man and the fixer, and then at Jeilla, seeing both his cousin and an older woman, his sister.

His confusion wanes as he gets deeper into the castle cellars, and deeper into the ghost-vision. His mind becomes once again caught up in the concern for his men fighting for their lives on the castle walls, and his fear that he would be of more use there, rather than down in these dark depths.

Karothen follows along, perplexed, but too wrapped up in this now to retreat.

I am a fool! Karothen thought to himself. No, it is worse than that. I am a coward. I am just too darn scared to turn back. His hand went absently to the broken bird statue in the cloth wrap that was hooked into his belt. It felt reassuring. The bird thing had been a mystery to him, its form so alien, and he hadn't known what to do to it to make it "right".

Now he felt differently about it. It felt familiar. All of the pieces were not yet there for it, of that he was sure, but it was getting there. It was nearing completeness, and when he found them all, he knew he could fix it.

Kurakree. That was his name.

The lantern flickered. The dip in light, brought on by a chill breeze even here deep below the castle, caught his attention. The ghosts that circled them appeared to stir, swirling into a frenzy as if in anticipation. Jeillia's hand cupped gently around the lantern, shielding it from the breeze. She looked older, her strong back and graceful, assured movement, making her all the more beautiful in his eyes.

The light rose again, strong now. She turned to him and offered the faintest smile. He knew her. Guilt rose in him. He didn't want to betray her.

He turned from her piercing eyes, taking in the surrounds. The room was long and low, like some hidden crypt. The walls, some twenty feet apart, were engraved with the depravity of war. Steel upon steel, man upon demon. Karothen could not help but stare at he hideous creatures depicted here. Their teeth rending, their horns gouging, their many eyes seeming to stare at him.

He moved through the chamber with trepidation. This lady, this soldier ... they did not know what he was to do. They could not know the secret he harboured.

The immediacy of the room pulls both of you momentarily from your respective visions. The space is tight and crypt like.

A secret chamber dedicated to the worship of forbidden demonic cults. The main altar is empty now, but there is an unpleasantness in the room, a sort of sickness that rests on your bones, coming from the tainted predella.

You remember, suddenly, quite clearly that the cults who once dominated this part of the world were driven away, by....

You can't remember who drove them out, or why; it's an abhorrent feeling, that vacuum. And then the visions overcome you again.

**************************************
Shades boil out of the air around you. Irontooth, it appears, has offered up more of his troops souls to the shadow wyrm. The Priestess, your sister, flares with pure, divine light driving them back.

Unfortunately the light doesn't extend to either of you. The shades are upon you instantly.

**************************************

Jeillia seems to disappear in a pool of light, accompanied by a swirl of glowing motes.

Kurakree hears a sword being drawn. The clockwork bird squawks a warning.

I warned you! You've harmed my sister and I'll have your hea...

Peace. It was not my magics. Why would I send her away.

As if to punctuate his words a conglomeration of multicolored motes swirls down from the ceiling.

If she's hurt...

She is not. She to be the messenger's bride; they will destroy themselves before laying as so much as a finger upon her head.

The motes colese into twisted angelic forms, warped bodies pulsing with twisted elemental energies.

You know...?

Of course. Am I not the Magus?

The angels swarm toward you.

**************************************

Eldan-who-is-not-Eldan watches his niece disarm the trap. His sides are damp. She's a damn sight to young to be down here... realistically he knows that she's not his niece anymore, she's incarnated into something not-Jennia.

But this time has been odd. The incarnation happened quickly. And strangely. The dwarf doesn't like it. Not-Eldan is not so sure, but he trusts the dwarf's instincts. He misses his old friend's presence all the more in times like these.

Nearby the fixer is standing. Not-Eldan doesn't like how he looks at her. But he tries to put the feeling away. Not the time or place, he tells himself, and it will never work out anyway. It never does. He takes some grim comfort in the last thought.

The spindly man catches you looking at him, and returns not-Eldan's look over a long beak-like nose.

You're still glaring at each other when Jennia finishes her work and the secret passage slides open. She turns to you with a triumphant look upon her face it fades when she catches side of you.

Gods Love! She rubs her eyepatch.
YOU! She looks at the fixer. "You're old enough to be my grandfather. I don't love you. I never will!" The fixer nods understandingly as if they were discussing the weather.
"And YOU!" she looks at not-Eldan "You want to save your fort? Stop the demons from overunning it? Stop the Infernal Legions from saving it in exchange for souls. Well? We are! I saw the map and I'm the only one who knows where the penacle is. So you may not like the fact that I'm here but I am and there's nothiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

As she's engulfed in a dark, misty sphere her voice continues on and on.

not-Eldan finds himself looking at the fixer in a panic. The fixer looks nervous but manages to stammer out "tttt...temp... temporal magic... she'll be ssssss.... safe once we...."

A bunch of misty humanoids appear around the sphere, their forms obfuscated by the same dark mist .

not-Eldan feels his irritation rising "You said teleportation was blocked down here!"

"nnnnnotttt... ssssspace.... ttttime" the fixer manages to force out a few words before the temporal guardians are upon you.

**************************************

[sblock=OOC]We're just going to "free form it". Roll a die and describe the effect that you're calling forth.
You can describe it in any of the different scenes you like.

For our purposes you have +15 to hit an AC of 20 (so 75% chance of hitting) and you're fighting minions.

I peg the two fighting the shades at 21st.
I peg Kurakree and the warlord fighting the mad-angels as being 18th level or so. 25th ish? Not sure.
I peg the others as sub-epic.

Of course you can mix it up as you like.[/sblock]

Karothen sees the temporal guardians surge towards them.
Be calm, swordhand, I know these. Their binding here is weak!

He seems calmer now, as if he has assessed the situation, as if he knows that this fight is his. He mutters a few arcane words, his fingers deftly drawing symbols that leave faint traces in the air. His movement is fast, too fast for the guardians. He completes his spell.

OOC: first ever in-game roll on invisible castle and I get a 20! Casting a spell to bind the guardians. Here is the link to the roll . To think that my players have been complaining about how it is fixed against them

The glowing blue embers of the runes that still hang in the air before Karothen start to unravel, grow, stretch out. He whips his hand towards the rapidly approaching guardians, and the long tendrils of light flash out in a blur towards them.

If this fails to bind them, I recommend you run! he shouts to those beside him.

The smooth leather-wrapped hilt, worn with years of use, immediately becomes part of his hand once again. A predatory grin comes over the warlord's face as he advances on the angels. You have no business here, begone from my castle! he shouts, bringing his blade forward and down.

Even as his sword slices through one of the attackers, he shouts in frustration and steps forward once more, taking another twisted form out of the fight. Stand firm, Magus, we can defeat them! His shout and the effectiveness of his attacks fill the wizard with confidence and strength, even as the enemy bears down on them.


[sblock=ooc] roll (1d20+15)=22
Using an action point for a second action (Yay 4E!)
(1d20+15)=21

With no access to upper level warlord powers, I thought I'd make something up, so I'm going to say he used an encounter power that increases allies' defenses with a successful hit.[/sblock]

Once-Karothen's magic swirls forth.

*****************
The shades who rush toward you shudder and slow as bluish glyphs begin to swirl about them. As before so it will be again, Once-Karothen chuckles as if he's made some sort of private joke.

Once-Eldan dances among them, their slowed forms are easy targets, his strikes push them into each other, hampering their attacks.

They move forward into the next room, following the radiant light.

*****************
The warlord leaps into battle against the angels, hindering their strikes. He's known this one many times, but he's never been so potent. Or so annoying. The smartest thing is to buy him time, let him show off, weaken him, he's up to something always up to something. Especially if he knows...

The warlord's strikes disable and confuse the angels, he offers them openings to hit him but is always one step ahead, leading them on a merry dance, a bizarre danse macabre ringing the Magus.

Then they slow, like pudding, and begin to turn sideways. No matter which direction the warlord looks at them from they seem to be slowly turning sideways into some direction he can't see.

For a man comfortable in normal reality it's an unpleasant scene to watch. The Magus floats serenely into the next room, and the Warlord follows, scowling.

*****************

The fixer's warning is unnecessary, the blue tendrils bind their targets securely. The Eldan-who-is-not-Eldan disables them further.

As always, when his mind turns from matters arcane, the fixer's stutter returns, Cccccan't...
Speak faster damn it.
Ppppppppp.... The fixer gives up trying to explain and simple pushes a frail old shoulder against the blue bubble entrapping Jennia. Improbably the sphere wobbles and begins to move.
Why didn't you say so... Eldan-who-is-not-Eldan lops off the limb of one of the approaching creatures and throws his full weight against the bubble, pushing it through the door and into the next room.

You enter a small room with stained glass windows. Jeillia is kneeling in front of a statue of a legless winged figure, a much larger version of the one that she brought to Karothen to fix. It's silver wings seem to glow in the moonlight.

He won't come. He's supposed to. But he won't. Jeillia's face is a mass of tension; rivets of sweat run down her face, as she stares at the statue with intensity. It's as though she thinks she could bring it to life, just with her will.
But the statue hangs lifeless above you.

[sblock=Karothen]The head of angel statue turns to you, pricks of silver flame dancing in stone sockets.

Awake.

You feel very faint, and realize you're losing consciousness as the pavement rushes up to meet your face.

*****************
The angels lie defeated around you. The warrior has given Kurakree and Jeillia some space.
She plows through the awkwardness in her usual manner.

I did not lie to you.

The Magus, you, make a shushing motion before pulling forth a crystal statue, an angel, carved of the purest astral diamonds. Transparent and silver at the same time.

I did not. I said...

It would be undignified to respond, especially now, in his moment of triumph. But, as always, Kurakree finds himself incapable of standing unmoved in front of her.

It does not matter.

Her eyes narrow. She does not trust him. They have done this before. The same tiresome old dance. You must call forth the Opener. You must call him out, that I can repair the Scar before it grows.

And marry him.

Her eyes flit from his face, to the statue and back. She's trying to pull it together. She doesn't see the trap. How he's won. It is the price. His price.

And so I will call him forth.

Into that? She indicates the statue.

This? No. It is merely the fulcrum.

Her eyes flare. She reaches for her mace. You must call him into something. If you allow the Opener to manifest, if you violate the accord....

The Magus allows himself a satisfied smirk. Have no fear, the celestial accord will not be broken today. He speaks the word. It has taken him lifetimes. Everything building to this point. His appointment with divinity.

He smiles. Turning toward her. His eyeballs go first, consumed in silver flame. His left hand gestures, slowing the process. You will keep your word, you always do. We shall be married. You and what remains of me.

The smell of burning flesh is overwhelming. You're insane. The opener will consume you.

Oh yes. Something white-hot bursts from his shoulder blades. This... farce, repeating the same tired story over and over again? I am done with it. Kurakree's voice booms in your ears.[/sblock]

[sblock=Eldan]
Another vision assails you.

The smooth leather-wrapped hilt is slicked with blood. The fixer's, you twist the sword and watch the light leave his eyes.

Jennia stands next to you. The castle is silent, save for the sounds of your breathing.

You'll wish you hadn't done that... her face has a horrified expression, but her tone is troublesomely level.

Wish I hadn't done that? I wish I could do it again!
You point to the swirling grey mist, Look at what he's done! My men are all frozen.

Safe! They're safe. She sounds like she's explaining something to a child. It does nothing to improve Not-Eldan's disposition.

They're statues!

Now? yes. But in the future they'll be needed... Her tone is too mature. She's too calm.

What about now?

You can't win now. Everyone knows it. The forces arrayed against you are too vast.

We can hold off the hordes, buy time. The Kingdoms will rally with enough time.

You wanted your men safe, now they are. She's touching the eye-patch, gingerly. Like she's not used to it.

The pass is undefended. Damn it. The castle isn't even in the pass anymore. The demonic legions will roll down over.... you stop. You look at her. Realizations dawning. They'll roll over everything. And then, they'll turn to your gods. They'll free the priests, give them everything they want, just to stop the demons. This wasn't his idea was it. You point to the frail old man lying at your feet.

Everything starts to come together. This is it. All those artifacts you've been collecting. All those visits to the ancient shrines. Men turn tail and run and the demons are posed to win, and...

Jennia's gone now, the voice, the stance, every mannerism, every gesture, is your sister's. The all knowing conduit of gods; playing out her willing role as head puppet.The return of justice, the plague of diabolism extinguished, a Celestial Accord. Her mouth quirks. A new Theocracy, ruling over an unending Golden Age.

You pull the cube from the old man's hand. Undo it.

She smiles sadly at you. The cube is just a tool, only one hand can undo it.

Bring him back.

His time has passed, the soul is already gone. She squats down and gently strokes the old man on the cheek. He'll not be back for some time. I wish you hadn't made it so painful for him.

You feel your grip tightening on the blood soaked handle. You could cut her down too. End the madness now.

But you can't of course.

She's standing now, moving threading her way through the frozen figures of your men. Come along now brother. We've a world to save.[/sblock]

This game continued with some new faces and a slightly different tack in this thread.