(Epic Cydra) Empires of Chaos

[the Jester]

Brelana, Var

Baron Lillamere of House Drelvin looks up as one of his messengers enters his study. His hands keep working without pause, the quill gripped in his long fingers never hesitating. “Yes?” he asks.

“Beg your pardon, m’lord, but- well- I think there’s someone here you should talk to.”

“Oh?” the baron inquires, his eyebrow arching.

“Aye.” The lad, only recently sworn to service before Lillamere, licks his lips nervously. He has seen enough to have an inkling of the mountain-shattering powers that his lord can bring to bear... but he is new enough in Lillamere’s service not to know how he responds to uncomfortable news.

“Go on,” Lillamere says with a smile. It’s just the right tone, the right gesture, to put the young man at ease. Such is the power of the eldritch liege’s charisma that he could evoke nearly any reaction he wanted from someone with a few words and an expression.

The messenger begins to speak more freely. “He’s a whaler, m’lord, from a ship that plies... plied the western seas. He says his ship was destroyed. The poor wretched fool washed up near the coast and immediately worked his way upriver, to you.”

“A whaler,” Lillamere exclaimed in dismay.* “What destroyed his ship?”

“He says,” the young man answers, “cannibals.”

Lillamere shifts his gaze to the large regional map on the wall. Brelana, of course, is on the continent of Dorhaus, the westernmost portion of the local region of Cydra. Further west, a large array of isles is marked as the “Cannibal Isles,” but to the best of Lillamere’s knowledge, that part of the map is a vague assumption. Clearly, at least some of the information on it holds some truth, but- how much?

Still, the map shows a lot of islands. Enough that, if they were a single land mass, they would be as large as Dorhaus.

“Show him in,” commands Baron Lillamere.

A few moments later, a wretched-looking man in threadbare clothes that are nearly as much patch as original clothing comes in, escorted by the messenger. Baron Lillamere greets the man very graciously and sends orders for new clothes to be provided for him. Then Lillamere asks for the man’s story.

The whaler tells the tail of how he was sailing on his ship in the waters several hundred miles west of Dorhaus, in the open sea, looking for prey. (Lillamere’s face remains neutral.) But then, a group of cannibals came out of the sea, overtook their vessel, took several prisoners for food and set the whaler alight. They were much further east than they had ever been encountered before- and in unusually great numbers, too. As the survivors managed to break away from the cannibals, their ship burned around them until finally they had to jump into the waters to save themselves from burning with it. Clinging to driftwood, the terrified sailors that yet lived watched as a huge concentration of cannibals emerged from the glittering miles of sea ahead. Slowly more and more became visible, until they filled the sea for as far as the whalers could see.

“Fortunately, a powerful current stole me away in the night, before they overtook us. I am sure they consumed the others.” The whaler shudders. “There were far more of them than I had ever seen, and they were much further east than I’d ever seen, either. They’re coming this way.”

Baron Lillamere nods decisively. “Thank you. First of all, I appreciate your bringing this to me. Second of all, I’d like to offer you a job. You’ll make much more money than you did killing whales, and you’ll be doing much better work.” But one way or another, you are done whaling.

***

Blaze is poking around where he probably shouldn’t, but he isn’t too worried about it. He is invisible and nearly undetectable, and you only get in trouble if you’re caught.

He’s poking around Malford’s castle.

But, despite his precautions, he is caught very quickly- by some kind of fey creature. It’s invisible too, but it seems to be aware of him- somehow- and it’s aware of it when he tries to pull off a concealed charm person on one of the gate guards. It warns him off, and after a few more frustrating attempts to sneak past it, Blazier finally retreats, telling himself that it’s time for breakfast anyway.

And breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It’s when the party assembles to discuss their next move, fuel up on food and power up with those spells that last all day.

By the time he reaches the Three Rubies, which has gotten quite rich on our heroes’ patronage alone, Blaze has worked up quite an appetite. Fortunately, the Three Rubies has an excellent chef, and breakfast smells like all that he could have expected. Gerontius, Alcar and Chakar are already there, chatting about some tournament that the monk is in. Blaze joins them and begins to eat from the trays of breakfast before them, but before he can much, a few adventurer groupies have come in and join them. Moments later, Sybele and “Emperor” Thrush walk in, chattering about political crap.

By the time Blaze is on his second helping of eggs, pretty much everyone is there: Bahgerah, Sybele, Thrush, Blaze, Lillamere, Chakar, JJ, Alcar, Gerontius and Wankerman. There is some general small talk for a while, and then the party gets to discussing what is on their collective plate.

There are empires to build, of course, both Forinthian (under Thrush) and Strogassian (under Wankerman). Baron Lillamere suggests that the cannibals may be an imminent threat. Bile Mountain is still waiting for our heroes’ full attention. There are the Angels of the Apocalypse to contend with, at some point. The party still does not know the outcome of the battle between Galador and Vandreu (Lillamere attempts to scry Vandreu as a lark, but to no avail). JJ points out that he might have something coming to him in a will. Master Control...

Alcar approaches Thrush about granting Gorel its independence.

“No way!” Thrush exclaims. “I’m sorry, Alcar, but right now I’m trying to rally all the influence and power I can to make my bid to take over a reality. I have to show that I will be strong. I can’t afford to let anything go. But back me, and I’ll give your people as much autonomy as I can.”

“No,” Alcar retorts. “That’s not good enough. Forinthia needs to give up Gorel. We can fight you if we need to.”

“Neither of us wants that,” Thrush says. “Look, I am not in a position to do anything about it yet anyway. Help me get there, and then we’ll see what we can do. You’re an elf- be patient! Give me time to consolidate my power, and I’ll do everything I can for your people.”

Neither of them is fully satisfied. Ah, politics.

***

When the party finally comes to a consensus, Acheron is first, to find out what JJ gets from the will. Meanwhile, Chakar leaves to continue fighting in his tournament.

The Law Offices of Blizzake and Mandrake is a rusty metal shack on a massive cube floating through the space of the strange battleground plane. Blizzake is a green abishai and Mandrake is a barbazu, but they seem to be focused on their duties as executors of the will rather than on our heroes’ role in overthrowing Law throughout the cosmos. Though they are nervous about dealing with devils, the party does so- Alcar even going so far as to shake Blizzake’s hand.

Nazar-Nagulin was the name of the individual that bequeathed something unto JJ in his will. The devils gladly hand over the will and indicate the section pertaining to JJ.

The demislaad reads: “To Jibber Junior, a fine-sounding demislaad, I leave my magic boots, along with the obligation to retrieve them from the thrice-damned chaos abomination that stole them from me. It dwells somewhere on the astral plane, and along with the obligation, I give you the means. Go get it, boy! And best of luck. Don’t let it steal your stuff, it’s tricky!”

JJ feels a powerful geas try to settle on him, but thankfully, he got mind blanked over breakfast. “Hey!” he exclaims, glaring at the two diabolic attorneys. “That’s not very nice!”

Quizzically, Blizzake asks, “What?”

“Never mind,” JJ answers. It must have been in the will itself, he thinks. Then he sends to the rest of the party over the telepathic link that binds them together. There’s nothing for us here. It’s another quest. We already have several.

***

Chakar’s next foe is a half-elven woman named Haya File. He bests her with almost no effort at all. Grugo the Legs was much better, he thinks. I must be careful not to become overconfident. To some degree, the skill of my opponent is a matter of luck. The first rounds were paired randomly, and the victor advances each round. It is possible that I could meet a worthy opponent at any stage of the tournament.

Chakar meditates between bouts. Soon enough it is the final bout- Chakar against a Valonian orc named Greth Boneblade. The audience is very rowdy; they have been watching fights all day, and are very much ready for a good finale.

They get what they want.

Greth roars and screams profanity at Chakar before the match starts. “I’ll eat your c**k!” the orc roars. “Take your strength! RROARRRGHH!!!!”

The fight is brutal. Greth is not as good of a fighter as Chakar, but he is strong and committed. Chakar turns his strength against him and gets him in a lock he cannot escape to score the first point of the match. But then Greth rushes in with startling speed and digs his steely fingers into Chakar’s neck, dragging him down and pinning him. They battle long and hard, twisting back and forth, until finally Chakar loops an arm around Greth’s neck. He begins to squeeze the breath out of the orc, but Greth slams his entire body down onto the ground on the dwarf. Chakar lets out a great Whooof!!, and the Boneblade orc is upon him-

Pinning him.

The crowd roars as the orc roars triumphantly. Chakar rises and bows to the orc. “Well fought,” he says.

The orc grins. “You, too!” it says in a surprisingly civilized voice. The two shake hands, and then Chakar leaves the tourney grounds, reflecting on racial tolerance.

Next Time: Our heroes left (at least) one thing off of their list- Chaos Worms!


*Note that in Cydra, the average whale has an intelligence score of 16. They are sentient, and “sages of the seas,” yet many creatures still hunt them for food and/or resources. (Locathah are similarly hunted imc.) The ethics of hunting sentient creatures is an interesting subtext that Cydra has explored, or at least touched upon, on a couple of occasions (including this one; we had some OOC chatter about the legal and ethical status of whaling in Cydra between bursts of roleplaying in this encounter).

 

[the Jester]

Diverse encounters with multiple adversaries is a big piece of the equation.

I also try to look very carefully at monster abilities with an eye towards how tough they make the monster for the best and least suited pc to fight it. Sometimes it's ok if an encounter is "impossible" for a given pc, as long as they can contribute to the battle in other ways (buffing, etc).

I am curious about how you manage a party with such a wide variety of levels.

I know that things get very wonky when you hit epic but you have a 10 level difference there for some of the characters.

 

[Knightfall]

Just letting you know I'm still reading this one. The last couple of updates have been good. Looking forward to more.

KF72

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

Happy to come back off holiday and read some updates, too!

Give the party a poke to go deal with Bile Mountain will you?

 

[the Jester]

The Cannibal Problem

“I thought we took care of all of these that were close to Var and Brelana,” remarks Baron Lillamere.

“They must move around. They are Chaos phenomena,” Alcar points out.

The party is staring at a large worm hole. Some time ago, they fought a band of giants led by Fnogghi Chaos-Hand, who had performed a terrible ritual that opened a plethora of gates to Limbo through which a series of immensely-powerful Chaos Worms had come to Cydra. This was one of Chaos’ methods of waging the Great War of Ethics, and- had our heroes not interfered with it- it could have dealt Law a mighty blow. But our heroes slew some of the worms, closed some of the gates and overthrew Law themselves. Now the worms are only a threat to the people of Dorhaus- and everywhere else, really- with no redeeming features.

“Isn’t there some way that we can redirect the worm gates to the plane of Law or something?” Sybele pipes up.

“Yeah, we should put that on the list,” JJ says.

The party casts a suite of buffing spells and descends into the worm hole. They are several miles outside of Var- and, indeed, in the past they had used Orbius’ divinations to verify that they had closed all the worm gates close to the city. Clearly, the situation is more fluid than they had counted on.

Descending down the hole, the party glows with magical light. They can see the churned earth on all sides. When there are minor obstructions, the party removes them almost effortlessly. After a good half mile, they emerge in a huge cavern with a huge worm curled up in it. Immediately, Thrush, Gerontius Wankerman and Chakar rush to close the distance and engage it.

Bahgerah draws out a cube that he has not previously revealed, moves to a better vantage point and presses a face of the cube. Suddenly a force field springs into being around him! Lillamere cocks an eyebrow; he recognizes the device as a cube of force due to his long fascination with, and study of, force effects. I’d love to buy that off of him, the baron thinks, shape changing into a red dragon and breathing a tremendous gout of flame on the colossal worm. Alcar hits the beast with a quickened destruction and then a flame strike. Blaze follows up with a pair of fireballs. It’s a terrific amount of firepower, but the worm just rushes forward at Bahgerah. Fortunately for the tabaxi, his cube of force protects him from its attack. Chakar kicks it as it rebounds-

And it splits in two.

“Oh no!” shouts Sybele. “We’ve fought these things before! Don’t hit it!! We’ll only make more of them!!”

“This might still work, though!” Alcar cries, casting first another destruction and then a quickened destruction! The worm survives his assault.

And then it’s a confused mess. Our heroes try to stick to energy attacks, try to watch to see what works against the worms and what doesn’t- and it is a learning experience. Lillamere is sad to discover that force-based attacks, such as his crushing fist of spite, will split them... and soon our heroes are fighting for their lives against four worms. Chakar tries to wrestle one of them down, but it is too big for even his uncanny skills.

Fortunately, both Blaze and Baron Lillamere have a wealth of spells that seem to work better- fire, cold and lightning. These don’t seem to split the worms, but they do help kill them.

Unfortunately, mistakes are made, and there is yet another split. Things begin to look desperate, but then Sybele drops two of them with a breath of the black dragon, giving the party heart. They redouble their efforts, and manage to put an end to the worm-cum-worms at last.

Afterwards, as they heal up and prepare to exit the worm hole, Gerontius remarks, “If one of zese got free somewhere, a group of adventurers zat did not know any better could double their trouble very easily.”

“You’re right,” Thrush says. “We need to take care of this.”

“Along with everything else,” Sybele nods.

***

Back to Var, and our heroes check out the area where the radiocrystal golems that attacked Bahgerah came from. The hole they emerged from is pretty much filled in.

“No problem,” says Baron Lillamere. His shape change is still in effect; he turns into a xorn and simply swims through the earth to check the passage out. He returns a few moments later and reports, “It’s blocked up for at least 100 yards.”

“Put it on the list,” suggests Wankerman.

“It’s already there,” replies Blaze.

“Well, don’t cross it off just yet.”

***

Next, our heroes decide to check up on the cannibal situation that Lillamere heard about. They wind walk, first to the west coast of Dorhaus and then further, out to sea. The day is brilliant and clear, with the sun burning bright in the sky above. The blue-green waters of the ocean shimmer and dance below them as the party passes overhead at breakneck speed.

Even with their great speed, though, it takes hours before they spot the cannibal fleet- but as it slowly resolves into form as it closes the distance, it becomes apparent that it is huge. There are ships scattered from left to right as far as our heroes can see.

There are quite a few of them, JJ says telepathically.

Yeah, agrees Lillamere. We should take a prisoner and fight out what has them mobilized like this. It has to be something. There has to be a reason. Nobody would do this just because.

The baron’s right, Sybele chimes in over the link.

It’s a fairly easy proposition for our heroes to drop back into their solid forms and then grab a hapless native and teleport away with him. Alcar uses his holy magic to induce awe in the cannibal, and Chakar’s ability to speak all tongues proves handy.

The cannibal’s story is simple and grim: Hextor has come to the Cannibal Islands, and most of the cannibals have fled. He has a bit more to say, but nothing that Blaze is really interested in. The sorcerer kills the prisoner with a phantasmal killer.

Pretty much nobody finds that appropriate. The party has a quick heated discussion about the ethics of handling prisoners, but Blaze justifies his action by pointing out that they would have had to fight the cannibal eventually, and besides, he wasn’t exactly a prisoner; he never surrendered, and the party never offered him terms. It’s a bit of a legalistic approach for a champion of Chaos to take, but it (eventually) mollifies the others, although Chakar insists on paying a weregild for the man’s life when they return the body to the cannibal fleet.

The cannibals are left with a puzzle, a corpse and 1000 gp. They aren’t quite sure what to make of this, especially as our heroes make a lightning-swift series of minor attacks on the lead cannibals. But there are too many of them for a wall of fire and some fireballs to really slow down; their vessels extend for many miles.

A quick teleport back to Var, and our heroes discuss their options. “We need to get creative,” Blaze says. “There are too many of them for a brute force approach to work.”

“At least, to work quickly,” Thrush amends with a grin.

“Bah!” Alcar snorts. “These cannibals are a distraction from our real task- dealing with this Hextor, and his companion. Angels of the Apocalypse are no laughing matter.”

“I’ve been giving that some thought,” Baron Lillamere says, “and I think...” He looks at the others meaningfully. “I think we need Inoke.”

Next Time: Will our heroes take Inoke back? Will Inoke take our heroes back? Will they kill each other? And what’s the cannibal solution??

 

[the Jester]

“Inoke!” roars Alcar. “That traitor!”

“Nonetheless,” Baron Lillamere says calmly, “if we are to take out the Angels of the Apocalypse, I think we need him.”

“We don’t need him!”

“We might need him,” Gerontius nods. “That’s a good idea. I’ve been giving him a lot of thought lately, too.”

“He was a traitor to Chaos,” Blaze shrugs. “Just like that bastard Horbin.”

“Horbin isn’t actually so bad, either,” sighs Lillamere.

“Indeed. He was a staunch ally, and never betrayed us,” Chakar speaks up. “Inoke was a mighty ally, and though he turned against us, he never actually fought us- never even attacked us.”

“Well, he... hmm,” muses Thrush. “I guess he attacked Tiamat, but she’s hardly one of us, even if she was on our side.”

Alcar scowls.

“We’ll talk about this some more, certainly,” Lillamere says diplomatically.

“Well, I think zat it is time for dinner,” Gerontius says. “What do you say we return to Var for now and talk about all of zis over a meal?”

***

Back at the Three Rubies, in Var, Alcar issues a sending to Lucifer’s Hidden Minister, Glaisig. We need to talk. You are elder; I respect that. The Angels of the Apocalypse are coming. The mighty must unite. We must meet.

The response is immediate: We must do nothing. You presume too much. You assume that we are not on their side.

Alcar is taken aback. He relates this message to the rest of the party, and everyone erupts in debate. Most of it quickly becomes telepathic. Is he serious, do you think? asks Lillamere.

No, Alcar declares. He wouldn’t tell us something like that, if he really was. He’s too smart. Glaisig plays his cards close to his chest. He’s just refusing to play nice with us. Well, that’s fine. We’ll just remember that.

“I don’t know,” Sybele says aloud. “The devil dude is,” she switches to the link, pretty sneaky. What if he told you the truth, knowing that we’d never believe him? It could be the nugget of truth at the center of a web of lies!

There’s no way to be sure of anything- except that he won’t be helping us, Chakar remarks. So let us proceed without the aid of devils.

It’s probably for the best, Lillamere acknowledges wryly.

Alcar purses his lips, unsatisfied. He proceeds with a series of sendings, coaxing Glaisig to get involved, but the devil refuses to be drawn in to anything involving the Angels of the Apocalypse.

Meanwhile, Blaze grumbles into his drink about fey guards in God-King Malford’s castle that can detect him. He is puzzled as to how that happened, but definitely respects the king’s castle security now.

Lillamere says, “Well, I actually have another dinner engagement. I’ll see you guys in a while.” With that, he greater teleports to just outside Malford’s castle. He is already dressed impeccably for dinner; he shows himself in to the appointed room. The guards and servants recognize, and defer to, him. Soon he reaches the small, private dining chamber where Belmondo, Thrush and the king await him.

It’s a long, political dinner.

Thrush- “Emperor” Thrush, he hopes- tells God-King Malford of his plan to conquer the Forinthian Empire, and of his possession of the crown. He tells Malford of Wankerman’s plan to conquer Strogass, as well, and of his possession of the Rod of the Dark Emperor.

Malford plainly doesn’t like it.

Thrush tries to reassure him. “Don’t worry, we have no plans that conflict with you. In fact, my reign could be great for you. We could resolve all the territorial issues and so on.”

“You would, of course, recognize my sovereignty over Goldstone,” Malford says.

Thrush frowns. “I can’t promise that. If I start giving territory away before I’m even on the throne, I’ll never be able to rally the nobles and the military around me. But think about it. If I become Emperor, we can negotiate a solution. That means that I can recognize your control over most of Dorhaus outright, and we can figure out some equitable solution for the rest.”

Malford stares at him. “You’re smarter,” he chuckles.

Thrush blushes. “Yes,” he nods, “I got a pretty useful magic item for this endeavor. It makes me a lot smarter, wiser and more charismatic. A lot.”

“Where did it come from?”

“Prayzose,” Thrush says frankly. The word itself is close to a threat.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, I”ll admit,” Malford mutters.

“I have another idea, my lord,” Baron Lillamere announces. “About the Tiger Princess.”

“Oh?”

“We can neutralize her- by marrying her.”

God-King Malford snorts. “There aren’t exactly a lot of candidates qualified to neutralize her.”

“I could,” Lillamere says.

“You probably could, at that,” God-King Malford nods.

“That’s a good idea,” Thrush agrees, “but there is a complication.”

“What’s that?” asks Baron Lillamere.

“Their child. The child must die.”

“I won’t be involved in infanticide,” Malford declares. “And neither should you!”

Thrush sighs. “I understand that it’s distasteful. But if I don’t kill that baby, when it grows up, it will come and challenge me. And by that time, I’ll certainly be past my prime; I might even be in my sick bed. If I leave that kid alive, I’ll be just like the stupid villain in every damned cheap Peshan theater I’ve ever seen- undone by failing to take care of the obvious.”

“I won’t be partial to it, either,” Baron Lillamere says. “It would really mess up my ‘marry the Tiger Princess’ idea, too.”

“It has to be done,” Thrush insists.

“Well, look, we can resolve this later,” Lillamere sighs.

But Malford chuckles. “There is one problem with your plan, Thrush. Her baby is already gone. She will not say where. She has anticipated you- and, likely, a thousand others.”

Thrush’s face is a thundercloud. “So she has,” he growls. “Well then. So be it, for now.” He smooths his face. “Now, then- Malford, will you help me in my bid? I am not asking for men, or anything in particular- just your good will, and willingness to back me.”

Malford studies him carefully.

“I’m the best choice for you,” Thrush says. “I’m probably the only person that might take the throne that is friendly to you.”

Malford nods. “True. Well, I recognize the merits of your arguments, I’ll give you that... all right, I won’t declare for you yet or back you with any military force at this time, but you can know that I support your bid.”

“I’m still welcome in your lands? In Var?”

God-King Malford nods. “Yes, and hopefully we will be able to usher in a new age of peace.”

“Well,” Baron Lillamere asks, “is there anything that we can do to help you out? How are things going since the end of the Great War of Ethics?”

“Fine, fine,” Malford says vaguely. Well, Thrush, my lad, I’d never have expected this of you. I’ll have to be careful what I say and do around you, now- no state secrets for you and your friends, alas. Damn it, Lester, you always bring this kind of trouble to me! Aloud, he continues, “Well, anything that you could do about Master Control could help.”

Lillamere turns to Belmondo the Enhanced. The dwarven prostheticist is slurping enthusiastically at his soup. “Belmondo, what do you know about Master Control’s activities?”

Belmondo swallows and then replies, “Hm, Belmondo doesn’t know much about what Master Control wants, really. While Belmondo was a prisoner, I was immobilized and unable to react almost the entire time. Belmondo knows nothing that can help you.”

“Well, we need to assign you some bodyguards,” Baron Lillamere starts.

“Belmondo doesn’t need bodyguards,” the dwarf cuts him off.

“Yes, you do,” Lillamere insists. “This is twice, now, that Master Control has taken you and tried to use you. It isn’t going to stop. We need to ensure it doesn’t get ahold of you again.”

Belmondo glares at him for an instant, but then his stern face sags. “You are right,” he admits. “Very well. Belmondo will accept bodyguards.”

The conversation continues, wandering amongst various subjects until it comes to the Chaos worms, and Malford reveals something else interesting: apparently, Valonia’s Underdark is suffering from some kind of infestation of tool- and weapon-using worms with arms.

“Interesting,” says Lillamere bleakly.

Then he and Thrush tell the God-King about the cannibal fleet. Malford already knows about it, but was not aware of the size of it. “They were driven out by one of the Angels of the Apocalypse,” Thrush informs him.

Malford growls under his breath. Fuligin, the first Angel of the Apocalypse, destroyed almost all life on Dorhaus. Felenga, the second of them, nearly merged himself with the Negative Energy Plane. Who knows what terrible plans this new angel has, or what horrendous powers?

“The cannibals are coming right for Dorhaus, too,” adds Lillamere. “Do you have any ideas as to what we can do to stop them?”

Malford smiles. “Rinardo,” he replies.

***

At the Three Rubies, Blaze finds a note waiting for him. It’s from someone named Bendrulo Pigeonfinger, a minor Xaositecht. He wants to see if he can stay with either Blaze or Wankerman (both Xaositechts as well) “for a few days” while he parties it up with them.

“Hangers-on,” remarks Blaze.

“Do we need ‘em?” asks Bahgerah.

“Not really.”

“You know what we do need, though?” Gerontius says.

“What?” asks Alcar.

“Inoke.”

Alcar curses again.

“He never attacked us, and he never lied to us,” Lillamere points out.

“That is true,” scowls Alcar.

“Great, it’s settled.” Baron Lillamere smiles. “We’ll get ahold of him for breakfast.”

“It’s hardly settled,” Alcar retorts, but he does not dispute the baron’s plan for breakfast.

The rest of the evening is almost uneventful. The only thing that happens, other than some drinking, eating and whoring, is the arrival of a tabaxi named Prrillk, sent by the famed tabaxi leader Hobbes. Apparently, Hobbes has somehow heard about the radiocrystal golem attack on Bahgerah, and (according to Prrillk), he was also attacked by similar golems recently, deep in the Underdark, in an area where teleportation only works across a short distance. Hobbes is tied up in some delicate negotiations, but he’d love it if Bahgerah would be willing to investigate the complex.

“I’ll think about it,” Bahgerah says, “but I have a lot of other commitments that I need to handle first.”

“Well, contact Lord Hobbes when you are ready,” Prrillk purrs.

***

Morning. Breakfast?

Inoke, it’s Alcar. Come chill at the Three Rubies. Talk, chill, come on, bro.

The response: Alcar, we’ll talk.

Breakfast.

Next Time: Breakfast with Inoke! Rinardo! And Darkhold!

 

[Angel of Adventure]

Yeah, bring back Inoeke! He was always on our side, and never really against us.

Hey Inoeke, Orbius will volunteer to be your 'wizard at arms' if Jester will allow it. (He's been a fan for a long time.)

 

[Knightfall]

Very good updates. I'm looking forward to reading about the breakfast with Inoke.

 

[the Jester]

9/22/371 O.L.G., 8:30 a.m., somewhere in the Parrot Isles

Baron Lillamere appears in a puff of displaced air. He is on a grassy hillside, with the sun bright overhead. As always, he looks magnificent, though he is dressed less formally than when he is focused on affairs of state. Inoke stands before him, large, imposing, strong. They are old friends; despite recent tensions, they smile and clasp hands.

“You ready?” asks Lillamere.

Inoke nods.

The baron lays a hand upon Inoke’s shoulder and superior teleports the two of them back to just outside the Three Rubies Inn, in Var. Then he stops, and looks his old friend in the eye.

“If we would have asked,” Lillamere says, “would you have told us?”

Inoke hesitates for a long moment. “It depends on how you asked,” he answers at last.

“Fair enough,” Lillamere nods.

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife as the two of them walk into the Three Rubies’ common room. Our heroes have reserved the entire place for themselves for today- just in case. The rest of the party stares as Inoke walks slowly towards them: Inoke, slayer of Asmodeus. Inoke, former party member... Inoke, former Arrow of Law.*

Some of the greetings are a little chilly at first; but Gerontius, especially, grins and claps his old friend on the back. He, Inoke and Lillamere adventured for years together, along with their dead friend Veil, before joining the rest of the party.

Breakfast comes, along with many different beverages, from milk to juice to wine and juice mixed. The food is delicious, as always; the Three Rubies receives vast sums of wealth from the adventurers that it caters to, and in order to continue being their destination of choice, it hires only the best help. As the party digs in to their meal, they cannot help but relax as the wonderful flavors and textures fill their mouths, and the delicious aromas waft through the air.

Slowly the tension recedes, though it never vanishes.

“Well,” Inoke says at last.

“Well,” agrees Alcar. The angel glares at Inoke and shakes a finger. “You shouldn’t have done what you did!”

Inoke shrugs uncomfortably. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand that you betrayed us,” Alcar snaps.

“No. I never attacked you; I swore I wouldn’t fight against you, and I didn’t.”

“Why, Inoke? Why did you join the Arrows of Law?” demands Lillamere.

The big man sighs. “You don’t understand,” he repeats. “It made sense at the time...” He heaves an unhappy sigh. “I never wanted conflict between us, but Prayzose approached me... he pointed out that he was the only Good member of the Arrows. If Law won, but Good had a strong presence, we would have had justice in the world. But if Law and Evil triumphed, it would have been tyranny.”

Gerontius, floating in the air at the height of Inoke’s chest, claps his friend on the shoulder. “I am certain that you only wanted to do what was right,” the halfling reassures Inoke.

“It doesn’t matter.” Alcar chops at the air with his hand. “You shouldn’t have done it. You may not consider what you did a betrayal, but you turned against us and joined the other side.” He shakes his head. “I’m willing to get past that, but only because we need you.”

“You already know about ze Angels of ze Apocalypse,” Gerontius nods. “Zere are at least two of zem zat we must deal with.”

“Two of them!” Inoke groans.

“And there’s Bile Mountain, too,” Baron Lillamere nods. “I don’t honestly know that we’re ready to take on two Angels of the Apocalypse.”

“They’re the main event,” Alcar declares. “Everything else is just a warm up.”

Inoke frowns. “I’ll admit, both of those are causes I can get behind.”

“Then join us to take them on,” urges Baron Lillamere. “We need your help.”

“And maybe you could help us make my honey the emperor of Forinthia,” Sybele adds. Thrush grins.

“I don’t know about that,” Inoke says. “What is your claim based on?” he asks Thrush.

The would-be emperor grins. “I can do it,” he replies. “I can conquer the empire by force, if need be. And with Prayzose’s crown, I’m wise enough to be able to rule well. Plus, we beat the Arrows.”

“That’s not a very legitimate claim,” Inoke says. “Do you think you can really make it stick?”

Thrush shrugs and fingers his sword.

“I will help you guys with the Bile Lords and the Angels of the Apocalypse,” Inoke decides. “Other than that, we’ll see.”

“Well, what about cannibals? There’s a fleet of cannibals coming towards Dorhaus by the thousands, maybe millions. They were driven out by Hextor. Will you help us protect Dorhaus from them?”

“Millions?” Inoke rubs his chin. “How do you plan to protect Dorhaus?”

Baron Lillamere smiles. “King Malford told me about something very interesting,” he says. “Something that might help. Or should I say... someone.”

***

2/7/347 O.L.G., 2 p.m., Vordolith

Lester, Thimbleton, Rinardo, Stone, Dab and Hobbes had at last reached their destination. After defeating the first Angel of the Apocalypse, Fuligin, they had sought to repair the damage done to the savaged land. It was nearly lifeless. Rinardo, through his druidic allies, heard rumors of an artifact that might be able to help: the Mantle of Gaea. A great deal of work tracked it down to the small continent of Vordolith, which- when the party arrived- proved to be fecund and overgrown everywhere. Even the desert, which an old map the part found called the Magnificent Desert, was overgrowing with life- including the cactus folk. They knew of the Mantle, but were only willing to surrender its location in return for a magic item that would provide them with limitless water. Lester used a series of divination magics to discern that a decanter of endless water was in the possession of a strange creature called the Mirror Master that dwelled beneath Vordolith, on the bottom face of the island continent.** The Mirror Master was a canny and ruthless monster called a morkoth, which attempted to hypnotize the party with the geometry of its lair, but they overwhelmed it. After all, its alien geometries were as nothing when compared to the horrific experiences most of them had recently experienced while inside Lester’s brain, fighting his third eye.

Finally, they had gotten the decanter of endless water and ferried it back to the cactus folk. In return, they had guided the party to the cactus treant, which led them to the thick grove wherein the Mantle lay. At last.

The Mantle was made of living leaves and vines, and it was wrapped around a wooden skeleton.

Recognizing the risk, yet knowing that the need of Dorhaus, and of Nature, outweighed it, Rinardo slowly unwrapped the Mantle from the skeleton of wood, and then wrapped it around himself. It reacted immediately, sinking roots down into his body. He was shocked, yet there was no pain. Instead, he felt a slight numbness as a small piece of himself turned to wood. He turned to his friends. “Let’s go home,” he sighed. A smile played on his lips. “We have what we came for.”

They returned to Dorhaus. Everywhere Rinardo went, plants would grow. Even in a metal hallway, small grass seedlings would eventually begin to pierce the cracks and seems, and moss and mold would begin to spread everywhere. Existing vegetation grew prolifically, and everywhere he went on Dorhaus the land was rejuvenated. Thickets of rushes, oak and apple trees, tall grasses, bushes and brush, flowers and grains- life returned, and as the plants returned, the druids aided the situation by bringing animals to supply the land. Only a few, at first, but in but a few decades, those few would form burgeoning numbers, and the ecosystem would be reestablished.

Yet, as the weeks passed, Rinardo found that he had to travel constantly. If he were to stay in one place for more than a day or two, the plants would grow so thick that they were impenetrable. Rinardo began to travel the length and breadth of Dorhaus, letting the Mantle of Gaea work its powerful magic, watching the plants grow- knowing that his name would never be forgotten so long as civilization flourished on Dorhaus. Rinardo the Savior, they might call him, or maybe Green Rinardo.

He sighed to himself. The Mantle could not be removed. He knew what he had to do.

So Rinardo took himself away from Dorhaus, off the coast, north and west. Where he settled into the waves, wild shaped into an octopus, an islet, first of coral, began to grow. When it breached the surface of the sea, its character changed. Around it, near the surface, a sargasso of kelp began to form. Above it, in the open air, first grasses, then bushes and trees, began to form. Larger and larger the islet grew, becoming an isle whose rises were sheer fecund vegetation. Soon the isle was an island, and it grew larger and larger until a finger of it touched northwestern Dorhaus.

Then it stopped, and lay undisturbed for almost twenty-five years.

***

9/22/371 O.L.G., 8:30 a.m., somewhere in the Parrot Isles

The party arrives, via superior teleport, on a massive mountain of decaying peat and humus. The air is hot, moist, rich-smelling. There are plants and animals all around, in ridiculous abundance.

“So how do we make contact with this guy?” Sybele asks.

“Good question,” nods Chakar. Nobody has an answer.

The party wanders around for a few minutes, just kind of looking around. Sybele finds herself observing a parrot that (she thinks) is studying the party shrewdly.

“Hello?” she asks. It just squawks. She shrugs, but then it flies to another nearby branch and squawks at her again.

Sybele follows the parrot over and it squawks again and flies off about ten feet, then stops expectantly. “I think this parrot wants me to follow it,” she yells to the others. She follows it, and they follow her, and soon it stops next to a fruit. She approaches and it squawks, but this time it doesn’t go anywhere.

With a shrug, Sybele eats the fruit. “Tastes funny,” she sighs, and her eyes roll back in her head. She falls to the ground.

“Sybele!” Thrush shouts. He leaps to her side. She is alive, but clearly, something weird is going on. “Alcar?” Thrush looks at the angel. “Do you think that you can do something?”

“Wait a minute,” Jibber Junior says. “She might be on to something. Look at her eyes.”

Indeed, Sybele’s eyes are dancing beneath the lids, as if she was in the midst of a very powerful dream. Thrush bites his lip and nods.

***

Sybele feels odd, as if her arms were hundreds of feet long. She feels the ebb and flow of the tides of life all around her. Birth, youth, maturity, death, feed the worms, then recycled to birth again. (a presence) Sprout, emerge from the ground, unfold under the sun, flower, wither and die. (faintly in the background) Be eaten, or eat. Everything is just right.

Is there anyone out there? Hello? Sybele is a telepath. She has plumbed the depths of her mental abilities, and her facile mind reaches out, searching... searching. But she can’t find anything specific- just a sense of brushing against something, almost a stirring....

WAKE UP!! she bellows telepathically, expending as much psionic power as she can in a single moment.

Before her mind’s eye, a flower appears. No... an eye. An eye within a flower. Blooming, ever blooming- pollen drifting in a screen around it.

We are in great danger, she sends urgently. More evil from the sea, a six-armed incarnation of evil. Can you move yourself south, to the western sea? She sends a series of images: the cannibal fleet, Dorhaus, the sea area in question.

There is a faint response. I will help if I can, a voice like a thunderstorm far away whispers. Not fast. The Mantle... the Mantle... the Mantle of Gaea... it’s hard to stop... could grow a barrier... hard to stop, however... could let it grow...

I understand, Sybele returns. Grow. Grow and drift to the west.

There is a whispered mental voice, fading again: Yes... the Mantle...

***

Sybele’s eyes open. “Wow,” she croaks. Slowly, she stands up. She looks at Lillamere. “It wants to be its own self-governing entity,” she says. “It won’t be colonized. But it will help us.”

“Uh, I’ll tell Malford,” Lillamere answers doubtfully.

“Now what?” asks Chakar.

“Darkhold,” answers Alcar.

Next Time: A Foray into Entropy!


*For anyone not up on the back story, the party is the greatest force of Chaos in the world. Their arch-foes were the Arrows of Law, who co-opted Inoke and got him to join their ranks.

**Bear in mind that Cydra is a water world that is (in theory) infinitely deep. Continents and islands are actually floating bits of stuff, usually rock and dirt and so on, and these things exist underwater too, but there is no “ocean bottom” per se.

 

[the Jester]

A Foray into Entropy

“Why Darkhold?” asks Inoke. “I am not really interested in just going on random adventures...”

“Where else are we going to find information about the Angels of the Apocalypse?” Alcar retorts.

“All right,” Inoke says. “As long as we’re on the trail of the Angels of the Apocalypse, it sounds good to me. But how do we find Darkhold?”

Baron Lillamere lifts the Staff of the Emerald Mage and easily balances it on a single fingertip. The large gems set in either end pulse with bluish light. With his other hand, he sets it to spinning, and soon, compass-like, it comes to rest. The stone at one end slowly shifts the color of its radiance to an emerald hue. It points to the northeast.

“That’s how,” Lillamere says. “Zelman is inside it. His staff can find him.”

Alcar casts wind walk on the party, and they move rapidly northeast for about ten minutes before JJ suggests telepathically, Why don’t we just teleport to the nearest land mass to the north east?

Good idea, acknowledges Lillamere. Our heroes gather together in the air, and an instant later they vanish, reappearing on land. Lillamere spins the staff again, and this time they head in a nearly westerly direction. We must have overshot it, thinks the baron.

Our heroes fly into the northwest sky. Soon they spy a pale blue moon, almost invisible against the sky, hanging like a drop of water in the distant sky. Not far below it sits a new island.

Our heroes move to it and descend. They fly at breakneck speed above it. Gerontius calls out, There are ruins, over the link.

I don’t see Darkhold, Alcar replies. There’s no sign of the hedges, or of the keep... maybe we should land and spin again.

Wait! he cries suddenly.

What is it? Blaze asks.

I saw a sphere of annihilation down there, Alcar replies.

There are some other things too! Thrush warns.

Suddenly, from below, two shadowy forms erupt upwards from the surface. One of them slams Wankerman, and he shrieks as he erupts into cold, black flames. He can feel them searing his very soul, shriveling his spirit itself!

Then the orb of utter blackness that Alcar saw moves swiftly upward, speeding towards Thrush. The would-be emperor throws himself aside, suffering only a graze, but the blot of darkness blasts a scrape’s worth of him to dust!

“Watch out for that thing!” he cries.

Almost as if it were intelligent, the sphere of nothingness begins zipping in at Thrush, buzzing him with obvious malign intent. He yelps every time it brushes against him, and takes frantic evasive action. “How do I fight this thing?” he shouts.

The rest of the party has their hands full, too, though; the two void shadows put up a terrific fight, and have no trouble landing horrible blows on our heroes. Then again, Blaze and Lillamere have no trouble unleashing a telling barrage of force. Combined with a flame strike from Alcar, one of the shadows of the void goes down.

Wankerman, who is still aflame and shrieking in terrible pain, tries stopping, dropping and rolling, but without success. The black flames won’t extinguish! Alcar quickly sends a Bless’ grasping hand to aid Thrush against the sphere, then tries to dispel the flames on Wankerman. They stubbornly refuse to go out!

“I’ve got an idea!” Baron Lillamere exclaims. He swiftly grabs up the big man (currently, Lillamere is in the shape of a gold dragon) and superior teleports to the Halls of Healing in Var.

“Take me to Horbin!” he cries to the startled acolytes. “NOW!!”

Meanwhile, Blaze finishes the other shadow of the void with another volley of magic missiles. That leaves the sphere of annihilation.

And whoever is controlling it, Alcar thinks grimly. He is keeping his eyes out, but so far he hasn’t seen even the faintest indication of one...

Suddenly his eyes widen as an old, old legend occurs to him. Thrush! he shouts over the link. Everyone! It’s worse than it looks!!

And just ‘ow can it be worse than it looks? Gerontius sends back.

It isn’t a sphere of annihilation at all. It’s a creature.

What?

It’s a blackball, Alcar theorizes. It’s basically like a sphere of annihilation, only it’s intelligent. They are also called ‘executioners of the gods.’ I don’t know what the hell we can do about this thing!

Down below, in the ruins, in the midst of a set of cyclopean pillars, a figure garbed all in yellow emerges from within a shallow cave. He is tall and humanoid, but a deep cowl obscures his features. He chuckles gleefully as he steps out.

He’s too far away to control it from there, Alcar thinks. Who is that?

“Hello!” cries the man in yellow. “The green pumpkin touches the gate!”

Blaze says, “What?”

“Watch out!” Thrush flies by, the blackball hot on his tail. Blaze dodges away, arrowing through the air. Gerontius buzzes the blackball, and it veers after him. He gives a gleeful shout and begins a series of dramatic aerial acrobatics, trying to shake it off.

There appears to be some kind of ‘atch in the floor of that cave, the halfling reports as he speeds by.

Maybe that is where we need to go, Chakar suggests. He begins to move in that general direction, keeping a careful eye on both the yellow-robed figure and the blackball.

“Who are you?” cries Alcar to the man in yellow.

“I was Kale once, but how’s your mom? My cats eat all the walls. The black boots.” The figure doesn’t seem hostile, but its manner is clearly more ominous than friendly.

“What... something smashed my pumpkins,” Alcar tries. “The black thing, uh, sucks. My mom is okay.”

Gerontius continues to spin through the air, then whips to one side. As if possessed of no inertia at all, the blackball continues inexorably towards him. “Can’t shake it!” he cries. He tries zipping behind some foliage, but the blackball simply goes straight through it, unerringly towards him.

“My family was really warm. There are places that should not go to themselves. Without a scorpion your carriage can’t fjord.”

He’s mad, opines Chakar. And maybe dangerous.

I can almost understand him, Alcar insists. He’s trying to tell us something!

Blaze gives a telepathic snort. At the same moment, Lillamere reappears. He has a smug look on his face.

The mad (?) man in yellow states firmly, “Not all hearts are meant to be purple. Yet frogs rain for summer.”

Chakar moves swiftly to the cave the man in yellow emerged from. The dwarven monk spares the figure a glance, but the yellow-garbed man ignores him completely, seemingly focused on the sphere’s chase in the air. The dwarf moves over to the wheel set into the hatch in the floor, but to his surprise it seems stuck fast.

“How do we stop this sphere?” demands Alcar, watching Baron Lillamere buzz and distract it from Gerontius. The sphere swoops in on him, but the baron sidesteps out of the way.

The figure in yellow says, “There were always creeks on the island when we were children, my twin and I. Old friends like gems and things lost in the bad house.”

“Well, I have an idea. I got something from Horbin’s portable store when I saw him,” declares Baron Lillamere. He pulls a rod from his belt. “If this thing is like a normal sphere of annihilation, one of the only things that might help is a rod of cancellation.”

Good thinking! Alcar exclaims telepathically. Let me try something first! He tries to charm it, but has no effect. Oh well, go ahead.

Lillamere buzzes in close, shape changed into a planetar. He hurls the rod of cancellation at the blackball, and scores a direct hit!

Unfortunately, the blackball eats the rod without harm.

“Well, crap!” exclaims the baron. “It was worth a try!”

Gerontius swoops in and attacks, seeming to inflict some minor damage, but his dagger is destroyed immediately. He curses and withdraws, suffering a minor, glancing blow from the blackball on the way out. A direct hit would be much more severe, he realizes as a few layers of skin disintegrate away, leaving a raw, bloody patch on his arm. Maybe lethal.

The blackball pursues Gerontius again, who flies up and around. Meanwhile, Baron Lillamere lands at the hatch and turns the wheel that seals it shut. As a planetar, he is quite strong; but even so, he has to exert himself hard to get the hatch open. Finally, the wheel pops free and he opens the hatch. A ladder leads down out of sight.

“Entropy is coming,” the man in yellow cackles. “It’s all in the cards. Do you play?” And with that, he casts an extended fleshflow at the party.

“Crap!” Blaze exclaims. Everyone manages to resist it, but he knows what a horrific spell that is by reputation, even if he has never seen it used before. He shudders to think of what it would do to them: cause their flesh to flow like hot wax, permanently- and horribly- malforming their bodies. That, Blaze decides, was unfriendly. He casts a polar ray at the figure in yellow, but misses.

Wankerman has been doing his best to endure the shrieking black flames that are running over his body. Finally they gutter and go out. He groans, badly wounded.

“You can go with the porcupine if you want,” the figure in yellow says, “but the desert is for me now.” With that, he vanishes.

Who the hell was that? wonders Thrush over the link.

I don’t know, Gerontius answers, but let’s get away from that ball before we get distracted by speculation! He tumbles into the cave, where Lillamere is retreating down the ladder revealed below the open hatch. Quickly, the others follow.

So does the blackball, eating its way through the stone surrounding the shaft they are descending. It tags Gerontius more completely than it has before, and he pulls away from it, but not before it destroys about a half inch depth on a large amount of his chest. Blood gushes down him as he screams in pain.*

Down they go. Chakar is the swiftest, and reaches the bottom first. He finds himself in a large cavern, much bigger than his darkvision can see. It is almost completely full of water. Huge mushrooms and strange fungi the size of houses grow alongside the water. In the distance, some luminescent lichens reveal that the room is at least several hundred feet across.

Everyone else comes into the chamber behind him, rushing forward. But the blackball doesn’t seem to be pursuing them inside this area. The party makes ready, but after a few moments, it still hasn’t come down.

“Just as well, really,” comments Gerontius. He thinks glumly of his destroyed dagger. Yeah, sure, he has more- but every blade is special to him.

“Where the hell are we, anyway?” asks Blazier. “And where are we going?”

“Time to spin the staff,” Baron Lillamere replies.

Next Time: Our heroes chat with Zelman! Can the god of illusions explain anything about that yellow figure?


*134 hp of damage in one hit.