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Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)
- Thread starter Rackhir
- Start date
I've been saying it for six years now. I am all for duct taping you to the water heater in the basement. Providing you with a long enough lease so you can reach the water bowl, which I hope I would remember to fill. This will allow you to concentrate on the important D&D game, not some silly students.
shilsen
Adventurer
Awesome! Coincidentally, while avoiding more cramming for my finals, I'm cruising the story hours.
Well, here's some more to distract yourself...
* * * * * * * * * *
The third and last army that the Guardian Angels encounter consists of a smaller number of dolgrims than usual, with only two hundred of the four-armed creatures present. Conversely, they are accompanied by a somewhat larger proportion of more powerful creatures than is usually the case, with about a third as many runehounds, dozens of cloakers, half a dozen mind flayers, another half a dozen gauths, and two beholders present.
There is little apparent sophistication to the Angels' tactics when they attack, Nameless simply dimension dooring them within a few hundred feet of the army once they have spotted them. Myriad cries of alarm ring out from the aberration forces, hurriedly followed by a huge volley at the obvious targets. To the utter delight of the dolgrims, the five attackers go down almost instantly under the hundreds of crossbow bolts. With triumphant cries, they swarm toward the fallen enemies, the runehounds racing forward while cloakers swoop overhead and the beholderkin follow more ponderously.
The shouts falter a few seconds later, as the Guardian Angels leap to their feet in perfect unison, just as the runehounds are almost upon them.
“BOO!”
And then the cries turn to screams of horror and pain, most of them swiftly snuffed out, as an avalanche of destruction engulfs the army.
Some of that is not even metaphorical, with Luna bringing down one earthquake after another in the area*, first utterly devastating the army and then decimating the short-lived survivors who desperately scramble to flee.
Nameless completes the large-scale destruction by hurling a meteor swarm into the midst of the aberrations, before switching to more precise attacks. A well-placed sunburst catches the beholders, blinding both as well as a number of the gauths and cloakers around them. A moment later, he uses a quickened wall of fire to cut off the retreat of the runehounds.
Gareth causes a magical eruption of earth and stone** in the midst of the mind flayers, bringing down a couple of them. As one of them dodges desperately away, a flying shard of rock reverses direction in mid-air and neatly skewers its head, thanks to Six and his ring of telekinesis. The warforged then quickly pulls out a scroll and touches the paladin's shoulder while activating it and, an instant later, they appear right next to the remaining mind flayers. While Gareth slashes into the enemy, eviscerating or decapitating whatever is within range, Six focuses on tripping one of the mind flayers and then bashing it into unconsciousness. He then dimension doors out, with both the unconscious illithid and the paladin in tow, the latter depositing a blade barrier among the few remaining foes as a parting gift.
Terrific as the destruction they cause might be, none of the Guardian Angels take quite as much pleasure in the battle as Korm. Pausing only to cast a resist energy to negate their acidic breath, the Gatekeeper rushes forth and hurls himself gleefully into the midst of the runehounds. With their retreat blocked off, most of the creatures pounce upon him too, eliciting only a loud shout of “Yes! Everyone – leave them to me! Nameless – can you stop them getting away?”
The alienist silently complies, two more walls of fire enclosing that section of the battlefield, penning Korm and some fifty runehounds into one area. Unable to see what is occurring within, the other Guardian Angels continue mopping up the rest of the army and bringing down the remaining flying aberrations in various ways.
Sounds of battle continue to emanate from beyond the area within the walls, though the growls and snarls from the runehounds diminish dramatically as the others hear Korm pronounce the words of a horrid wilting. Some of the growling also devolves into fairly pathetic whining, accompanied by inarticulate shouts of glee from the Gatekeeper.
Then, just as it seems the short-lived affray is winding down, one last enemy appears. The one surviving beholder appears past the far corner of the walls of fire, firing its eyebeams blindly and roaring in frustration as it floats only a couple of feet above the ground.
Before the other Guardian Angels can respond, there is a loud shout of “Sit! Stay! Good runehounds!” and then a bulky shape—or collection of shapes—bursts through the wall of fire closest to the beholder. It is Korm, streaming with blood, his hair kindling as he rushes through the flaming barrier. His state, however, is hardly as poor as that of the three runehounds he drags along with him, their fangs still buried in his flesh. The creatures, all horribly wounded, shudder and collapse as the magical flames roast them.
Letting them fall, Korm looks up and shouts, “Mine!” With a flap of the cloaker-like wings emanating from his shoulders, he hurls himself at the beholder, rising above it to get in a better blow. Which, blind though it is, actually manages to roll around in mid-air and strike him with the antimagic field that still emanates from it***. With a disappointed, “Ah, crap!” Korm falls, but luckily he's close enough that he manages to grab onto the creature. Gatekeeper and aberration roll on the ground together in a whirl of snapping jaws, writhing eyestalks and a slashing blade.
“Should we help?” asks Gareth.
“Pfft! Looks like he's doing fine!” scoffs Luna. “Look – he just bit it in the eye!”
Sure enough, Korm finally rises, grinning triumphantly above the globular corpse which bobs just above the ground near his feet. “That was … awesome!” says the Gatekeeper happily. “Nameless – can you get rid of the walls?”
The alienist complies, dispelling two of the fiery barriers, to reveal an area littered with the corpses of the runehounds that he had penned within less than a minute ago – and nine live runehounds sitting patiently in a row. As the walls disappear, they whine like a bunch of overly large and deformed puppies.
Korm grins back at them and calls, “All right – come over here!”
The creatures leap up in unison and rush forward, hurling themselves onto the Gatekeeper and bowling him over in their enthusiasm. Korm rolls around on the ground with them, his magical protection leaving him unaffected by the acidic saliva dripping from the tongues that loll from the long heads growing out of the middle of their backs. .
Luna laughs at the sight and then says, “So someone charmed nine of them while fighting the others? Nice job! Can we keep them?”
Nameless, Gareth and Six exchange long-suffering glances and simultaneously say, “No!”
While Luna pouts, the warforged decides to provide a quick distraction and picks up the unconscious mind flayer lying at his feet. “Korm – come see if you can charm this one too. I'd like to know what they were doing so far north.”
When the Gatekeeper complies, having once more commanded the runehounds to sit in one place and behave themselves, Six revives the mind flayer. The creature shakes its head and glances around blearily for a moment before freezing, partly in alarm and partly because the Gatekeeper's gaze takes effect upon it.
Then, after a moment, it telepathically addresses Korm, “Why have you done this … my friend? Who are these others with you?” The telepathic tone is a puzzled one, as the creature's mind struggles to make sense of the contradictory emotions that it feels in its charmed state.
“Don't worry,” Korm transmits in return, chuckling inwardly as he replies, “These are the … disciples of Snookums. They are important people. They were sent with me,” he adds, “to bring the information that the Silver Flame is not destroyed. It is inside us – the Guardian Angels. Make sure to let the other aberrations know that.”
The mind flayer remains silent, clearly having some difficulty in digesting the message – and working out what it means. Taking the opportunity, Korm continues over their mental link, “What were you doing in this area? Was there something particular you wanted? ”
Sounding almost relieved to be able to deal with a subject it understands, the mind flayer promptly replies, “We were sent by the generals to seek out a particular stone in the forest. It supposedly has much power. I don't know any more about it. Kttchrshlekm was the one who knew. He was in communication with the generals through the graft.”
Though the Angels have suspected something of the kind for a while, Korm reflexively asks, “Graft?”
“The one all the communicators have implanted in them? You know about that – don't you? Are you sure that …?”
Seeing that the mind flayer is growing suspicious, Korm changes his mind about sending it off as a messenger and calmly buries his sword in its skull. Looking at the others, he explains what it communicated.
Nameless frowns thoughtfully at the information. “Fascinating. I presume it was referring to the Madstone. I had never truly considered that it might have a connection with Xoriat – primarily because I had no particular reason to even think about it before this point.”
“The Madstone?” asks Gareth, a vague memory coming to him from his childhood in Karrnath. “I seem to remember hearing stories about that. Something about …”
“A monolith,” Nameless continues as if the paladin hadn't said a word, his raspy tone taking on the simultaneously meditative and pedantic tone which tends to indicate the sharing of information that he possesses but has no personal memory of, “which has existed in the Icewood for centuries, though nobody seems certain of its source. It is rumored to have an inimical effect on the minds of those who encounter it, but—again—accurate information is lacking, since no claims from explorers and adventurers of having seen it have ever been clearly substantiated. Every few years, there are cases of humanoids who emerge from the forest, evincing extreme strength and hardiness – and attacking every living creature in sight until they are slain. They are known locally as the Madborn and are supposed to be the result of having come in close contact with the Madstone. There are also rumors of a tribe of centaurs in the forest that revere and guard the monolith but, again, no clear evidence.”
“So,” says Six perceptively, “You have some … theory about this stone?”
“Yes,” says Nameless, slipping into what passes as a more normal tone for him. “Based on the legends and the interest of the aberrations in it, I'm considering the possibility that it might be warpstone. That would explain both its source and the effect it has on creatures that encounter it. And would mean it's a potentially useful weapon for the aberrations – or us. I wonder ...”
A loud laugh from Luna interrupts. Frowning, the alienist looks over to see that Korm has summoned one of the phantom stags and attached the two dead beholders to it with ropes. Naturally buoyant as they are even in death, the two aberrations bob sluggishly in mid-air. As the conjured stag moves slowly forward, the pair of corpses float along behind it – with Korm balancing on them.
“What are you doing?” asks Nameless, causing the Gatekeeper to glance over, at which point he promptly loses his balance and falls off.
Sitting up, Korm chuckles and rubs his head. “Sorry. Just an experiment. I thought something of the kind would completely terrify any aberrations we meet in future.”
“Not really necessary, you know,” chuckles Gareth at the odd sight. “We have Luna!”
Korm chuckles and then rubs his stomach thoughtfully. “Plus I ate some beholder. I'm looking forward to seeing what abilities that lets me manifest.”
“Maybe you'll be able to make your butt puff up into a ball and float around?” opines Luna, with a grin.
“Right now, however,” Nameless interrupt, “we should be returning to Sharn. I want to consider this new information and what we might do with it. You need to bid goodbye to your hounds.”
“Aww! But they're so nice! See?” The Gatekeeper calls out and, once more, disappears under a mound of leaping bodies.
“You've clearly been spending too much time with Luna,” Six says, before making preparations to depart.
Despite his protestations—and Luna's support—Korm does accept that taking the runehounds back to Sharn would be not just difficult but highly inappropriate, so after playing with them for a bit, he bids the aberrations goodbye. “Run free and … eat any other aberrations you meet, but keep yourselves safe, okay?” he commands before leaving. The last sight that the Angels see as Nameless teleports them away is that of the creatures loping away toward the southwest.
* * *
Once back in Sharn, Nameless visits the Esoteric Order of Aureon and Morgrave University to further research the Icewood and the Madstone. While the basic information he already had is accurate, he discovers a fair number of additional details.
The Icewood is a large forest, stretching 200 miles at its longest. The forest’s name supposedly emerges due to its position in the northeastern part of Karrnath, an area which tends to suffer from particularly chilly winters, and has a reputation for being unnaturally cold. It is also reputedly the home of many kinds of rare monsters, especially those drawn to frigid areas, such as winter wolves or cryohydras. There are even legends of frost giants having been seen in the area. It is difficult to say how much of this information is fact, since the forest has never been really explored, and outside contact with it has diminished drastically over the last century. Even before the Last War began, the dangers of the forest and its location far from the urban centers of Karrnath meant there was little contact with it. Shortly after the start of the War, trappers and hunters trading with members of a large centaur tribe that dwelt in the forest were told that the centaurs had unearthed a giant gray magical stone deep in the forest. They learned nothing more about it, mainly because the centaurs cut off contact with traders shortly afterward. Over the following years, creatures would sometimes emerge from the forest, stumbling around in an uncoordinated manner and muttering about the “Madstone” and its “commands”. The creatures were of many different types, though almost always humanoids, monstrous humanoids or giants, but the one thing they had in common was that they violently attacked anything that they encountered, displaying unusual strength and resilience. They would also sometimes display random magical powers. Sometimes they dragged unconscious captives back into the Icewood. More commonly, they wandered around, slaying indiscriminately until they were killed. In Karrnath, these creatures are called the Madborn.
Unsurprisingly, little certain is known about the Madstone, since most of the information has only been gleaned from the insane mutterings of the Madborn. Nameless does manage to extract a significant amount of potential data about the subject, though he remains strongly aware that much of this might be incomplete or inaccurate. Based on what he finds, the Madstone is apparently a huge gray rock, probably with dragonshards embedded in it. Its presence has supposedly warped the forest around it, and there is also a possibility that it actually physically moves from place to place within the Icewood. It seems that it contains some sort of consciousness as well. Those nearing its current position can hear its call in their heads and are drawn to touch its surface, at which point they fall under its thrall. Losing their individuality, they wander around, usually with little direction from it, but sometimes being commanded to go forth and bring others back to the stone. The Madstone can evidently see through them and control their actions, causing them to fight with strange, unthinking coordination. It can also unleash bursts of magical power, usually mind-affecting, through them. Even when it is not doing so, they exhibit unusual strength and resistance to damage.
Despite the lack of clear information, the alienist is fairly confident that this is a huge chunk of warpstone – perhaps somehow left behind during the Xoriat invasion that led to the fall of the Dhakaani empire, perhaps exuded from the depths of Khyber by the influence of the trapped daelkyr lords or their minions.
While Nameless is completing his research, late at night, Gareth receives a sending from Sora Teraza. “We need to speak as soon as possible. I have had a vision about your final battle with Mual-Tar. Can you be here tomorrow?” The paladin responds immediately in the affirmative.
* * * * *
The next day, the Guardian Angels arrive at the Great Crag as promised, to find Sora Teraza and Sora Katra awaiting them as usual. The hags mention that the trolls from Sora Maenya's elite guard have been equipped and are ready to go, but the Angels decide not to take them for the moment, saving them for the inevitable battle with Mual-Tar.
“As you wish,” says Sora Teraza, her sightless eyes turned on the Angels. “That is what I had a vision of, but not of the Mournland. Instead, I saw you fighting Mual-Tar in a the midst of a shapeless void. And not just Mual-Tar. I saw you battling a creature that I knew was a daelkyr lord as well.”
“Yeah, we kinda knew he's back,” grumbles Luna. “Don't those things ever die?”
“Not really,” rasps Nameless. “I had considered that the divine energy of the Silver Flame might have had an effect that normal magic cannot, but we already had enough indications that it wasn't permanent. Tell me,” he turns to Sora Teraza, “did your vision tell you the name of this daelkyr lord?”
“No.” The seer shakes her head. “But there was more. As you fought, a strange facsimile of Eberron floated between you. It was a globe, with the continents—especially Khorvaire—clearly marked upon it. There were cracks all over its surface and, as you fought, streams of silver energy flowed from the daelkyr and Mual-Tar into the globe.” Sora Teraza points at the Angels and says, despite her physical blindness, “The same silver color that you all glow with now.”
She then continues, “In the vision, as the silver light flowed into the globe, the cracks expanded and blood began to leak from them. But then, even as the blood dripped around you, all of you simultaneously opened your mouths wide and swallowed the silver energy. When you did so, all of you, the daelkyr and Mual-Tar exploded into nothingness. All that was left behind was the globe, with a thin network of silver lines now binding the cracks on it together. That,” she concludes heavily, “was where the vision ended.”
“So,” asks Six, “do you have an interpretation for what you saw? It sounds like we will need to use—or take—the energy of the Silver Flame from the daelkyr and the Worm, which will destroy them, but kill us too.”
Sora Teraza smiles faintly. “You should be a seer. That was my interpretation too.”
“Wait a sec,” says Luna. “I'm not about to blow myself up! I'm having kids!”
“We might not have a choice in the matter,” rasps Nameless, before addressing the hags. “Thank you for the information. We will keep it in mind. I also have some information for you, about a new possibility that has appeared for us.” The alienist proceeds to explain what the Angels have learned about the aberration interest in the Madstone and that they are planning to try to claim it themselves.
When he finishes, Sora Teraza says, “I cannot be certain, but it seems to me that is a worthy aim. Warpstone can be a strange and unreliable weapon, but better you be the ones to wield it than Xoriat.”
After some more discussion, the Angels take their leave of the hags. Before they depart, Nameless casts a sending of his own, contacting Essirise and saying, “Have possibility of gaining large quantity of warpstone. Opinions on subject? Also have interesting information from Teraza to share. When will you arrive here?”
The dragon replies immediately, “Good idea. Warpstone possibly very useful. Will arrive tomorrow at noon with Siberys battalion and powerful magic. See you at location near Mournland we discussed.”
After relating to the Daughters of Sora Kell what their plans are, the Angels depart for the Icewood and the Madstone.
* She used four of them, thanks to Undermaster (from the Spell Compendium)
** Ice Flowers (also Spell Compendium)
*** I had them roll opposed initiatives and the beholder, with a 4, beat the 2 that Atlatl naturally rolled
carborundum
Adventurer
Fantastic stuff! Since I'm still getting my D&D fix vicariously (baby needs attention) the aberration slaughterfest is my lifeline
Love the Runehoud rasslin Korm - "Can you stop them from getting away!" Brilliant!
Love the Runehoud rasslin Korm - "Can you stop them from getting away!"
Brilliant!
shilsen
Adventurer
Appearing a short distance outside the southern edge of the Icewood, the Guardian Angels study the forest near them. Perhaps due to what they already know about its reputation, they dimly sense an aura of dark malice emanating from the trees, a deeper darkness lurking under the twisted branches than seems utterly natural. The effect is exacerbated by the thick tendrils of mist that constantly leak from the forest into the air above, seeming thicker than one would expect even in northern Karrnath in early spring.
“Looks like a fun place to visit,” grunts Korm. “Do we head in?”
“Let me try something first,” rasps Nameless. The alienist flies upwards, reaching into an extradimensional space while he ascends, and produces the chunk of warpstone that the Angels had obtained so long ago from the aberrations. Holding the lump of soft gray rock in his hands, Nameless concentrates, attempting to use it as a focus to seek out the Madstone, concealed somewhere within the forest.
The other members of the Guardian Angels watch and wait while Nameless spends a quarter of an hour attempting to discern the Madstone, flying back and forth to see if he can triangulate a location. Finally, he descends and shakes his head while putting away the warpstone. “I pick up a vague whisper of something in there and have a general direction, but that's all. I cannot sense a distance or anything of the kind.”
“A direction's better than nothing,” grunts Luna. “Do you want me to try to commune with nature?”
“Not yet,” the alienist responds. “We're probably too far away for it to be useful. Let's fly over and see if we can get any sense of distance. Then you can use your spell.”
Nobody argues with the plan, so the Angels are soon soaring over the Icewood on their usual collection of phantom stags and steeds in the direction Nameless indicates, searching the misty forest for any sign of the Madstone.
After having traveled over twenty miles, Six and Luna spot an area a dozen miles in the distance which appears to be slightly darker and more overgrown, with the trees in the area also seeming noticeably taller. Having paused for a quick discussion, they descend to a small clearing in the forest below, so that Luna can cast her spell and attempt to decipher more about the area ahead.
Having found as comfortable a spot as she can on the cold ground, the druid settles into a cross-legged position and closes her eyes. Luna chants softly and slowly, beginning to commune with nature, feeling her senses gradually stretch out into the surrounding terrain. There is a few initial moments of discomfort, as if the Icewood—or what lies concealed at its heart—were rejecting the intrusion, but they quickly pass, Luna's incredible will allowing her to push through the resistance.
As she continues the long casting, Six asks Korm, “This will take at least ten minutes, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
The warforged warrior looks around at the thickly clustered trees and the fog beneath their boughs before answering the Gatekeeper. “I'm going to scout around in the meantime. If anything notices or is coming toward us, I'd like to know before it arrives.”
“Okay,” Korm shrugs. “Just be careful and don't get too far away.”
“Yes.” As Six turns away, he adds, over the mental link that their connection to the Silver Flame has given them, “I'll stay in touch.”
The warforged disappears into the trees, both physically and metaphorically, dark tendrils of mist seeping out of his armor and shrouding his form, though he remains able to see perfectly through it. As he moves away, Six slowly increases his speed, from a walk to a slow trot to a quick jog to an outright run. Despite the surrounding undergrowth and trees, the relative gloom and fog, the warforged moves faster than an unencumbered human runner on an open plain, smoothly dodging over, under and around every obstruction in his path without slowing his stride. And he does this almost soundlessly, passing through the forest like a swiftly moving tendril of mist borne on an invisible wind. Soon, Six is tirelessly and swiftly depicting a circle over five hundred feet across, centered on Luna and the other Guardian Angels.
When he was first molded in a creation forge of House Cannith, Six was designed for scouting during the Last War, built for stealth and subterfuge, with his skills in this area enhanced by his inability to feel tiredness. Some of the modifications by Mordain the Fleshweaver have only increased these abilities. But when he is with the other Angels, he is rarely in a situation to utilize them. So now, for a few minutes, Six indulges himself in a way that he normally never does.
Yet even as he silently revels in testing his abilities to the limit, the warforged scout is alert to anything that might stir in the forest around him. So, nearly five minutes after he began his idiosyncratic scouting expedition, he changes direction and darts away, heading toward a sound in the distance.
A few moments later, the other Angels hear Six's voice over the mental link. “There are six creatures coming directly towards us. Fifteen feet tall, with blue hair and skin. Frost giants, I think. They'll be there in two minutes. Get ready.”
Barely a dozen seconds after they receive the message, Six rushes into the small clearing. “They'll be here in a minute,” he says, “and they definitely know we're here, since they're coming in a straight line.”
“Must be the Madstone directing them,” rasps Nameless. He glances at Luna, who is still quietly chanting. “We'll have to stop them before they get here. A distraction would end Luna's spell prematurely.”
There is a pause in the chanting as Luna grunts, with her eyes still closed, “Damn! I wanted to kill something!” Then she resumes the spell, her chanting now sounding distinctly aggrieved.
“Of course you did,” chuckles Gareth, before looking at the others. “Let's go, before she gets too bloodthirsty to care.”
As the four standing Angels head in the direction Six indicates, Luna—eyes still closed and brow furrowed in concentration—bids them goodbye with a raised middle finger.
* * *
The six frost giants move steadily through the forest, pausing only to walk around the larger trees, trampling through or over anything else in their path. Their eyes are set on the direction that they are moving in – or seem to be, if one isn't close enough to notice that they are glassy and seemingly unfocused. Nevertheless, there is no lack of determination in their heavy strides, nor in the way each grips a ten-foot long greataxe.
The giants jerk to a halt simultaneously and turn in unison at the sound of spellcasting ahead and to their right, each raising its weapon to a ready position. The movement and motion is too uniform to be natural – but neither is the force that assaults them.
With a word and a gesture, Nameless tears a hole in the invisible planar barriers that surround Eberron, causing a small portal to Xoriat to appear behind the giants. There is a roaring sound as nearby leaves, branches and even a few small bushes and saplings are instantly drawn to the portal—a jagged gray space hanging in mid-air, shot through with veins of the distinctive greenish-purple of the plane of madness—and through it. The six giants howl in surprise and dig their heels in, some managing to clutch nearby trees to aid them, but three of them are hurled off their feet and into the portal. An instant later it closes, leaving no sign of what it consumed.
“Good job,” says Gareth, stepping in front of Nameless. “Now there are only three, we can force them to come to us and ...”
A loud sound interrupts the paladin. Korm rushes by as fast as he can, hefting his sword and shouting an orcish war-cry.
The three remaining giants react as well, roaring inarticulately and then rushing at the Gatekeeper. The three of them strike in unison, using their reach to bring their greataxes down on Korm before he can reach them. The Gatekeeper staggers under the impact and then steps into range, hacking at one of the giants. The meteoric blade flashes darkly as it bites home, an enhancement within it drawing life from the target and healing some of the Gatekeeper's wounds, but it's clearly far less than the damage inflicted on him.
“Damn!” Gareth moves forward and then, realizing that he is too slow with his heavy armor, calls upon an enhancement of his own. Large white wings spring from the back of his armor and spread wide. Simultaneously, Six appears out of the shadows nearby, triggering a wand that pops out of a concealed slot in his hand. Feeling the haste take effect, Gareth calls “Thanks” and flaps his way smoothly into the air, rising between the trees and maneuvering to a better position.
Nameless quickly conjures forth a pair of huge earth elementals behind the giants, which hammer at the wounded giant. Despite the distraction, the three giants—which are by now actually frothing at the mouth in fury—continue their onslaught, hacking away at Korm. Critically wounded, the Gatekeeper continues to fight back, even though it's obviously only a matter of time before he succumbs.
Seeing an opening, Gareth flies in, a sweep of the Endless Blade hamstringing the wounded giant. As his target stumbles backwards and drops to a knee, a perfectly-aimed fireball from Nameless explodes behind it. Already heavily wounded and particularly susceptible to heat, the frost giant soundlessly collapses.
Another of the giants is burned as well, but it remains on its feet, and a sweeping blow from its greataxe finally overpowers Korm's resilience and drops him in a bloodied heap. Seconds later, it falls beside him under the hammering blows of the two elementals' fists and Gareth's sword.
Ignoring its own wounds, the third giant raises its greataxe above the paladin's head and then hesitates, as what seems to be a thick plume of mist appears before it. The foggy shape resolves itself into Six, his spiked chain leaping out again and again, almost too fast for the eye to follow. It smashes into the giant's knuckles and then, even before the greataxe has slipped from the numbed hand, crunches into the mail over his heart, then lays open his throat, and finally punches right through his eye and into the brain beyond. The giant shudders and then slowly collapses.
Once they have revived Korm and confirmed that there are no other enemies in the immediate area, the Guardian Angels retrace their steps to rejoin Luna, who is just completing her spell when they return. After checking what occurred and complaining again that she didn't get to take part, the druid explains what her commune with nature revealed.
“There's definitely something strange in that area we spotted. There's a gap about five miles across where I can't detect anything. Nothing at all. It was as blank to the spell as an artificial structure would be, but if there was a five mile break in the forest, we'd have seen it. Also, even though the area was blank to me, I detected a strong … a very strong unnatural presence right in the center.”
“That,” Nameless rasps, “must be the Madstone. Good. Now we know exactly where to go.”
Korm chuckles, the experience of a near-fatal battle only having added to his fatalistic sense of humor. “Of course – if we can find the most unnatural thing in a strange, creepy forest, that must be where we're supposed to head.”
“Funny,” grunts Luna, “but that isn't all. I also picked up dozens of unnatural creatures in the area. I mean the nineteen miles in each direction that I could sense. And most of them were heading right for us.”
“It's not surprising,” says Six. “I thought the frost giants were very precise in their direction.” He looks around at the others. “What do we do?”
“Just fly over them and to this Madstone?” suggests Gareth.
“Yes, but I think we should wait a bit,” opines Nameless. “If we wait for some time, it'll draw more of the creatures near the Madstone towards us, and if we then fly towards it, we'll leave more enemies behind.”
The others agree and the Angels cast a few preparatory spells and put themselves into a defensive position. The next half an hour is spent in fighting off assaults by multiple groups of enemies, ranging from a dozen humans wearing only rags and wielding wooden spears to a single overgrown remorhaz.
After having dealt with the latter, Nameless says, “I think we have spent enough time. Let us head on now.”
The Guardian Angels mount the phantom steeds and stags that have been patiently awaiting them and are soon flying over the forest. With the incredible speed of their mounts, within a few minutes they can clearly see the section indicated by Luna, darker and more deeply misty than the rest of the Icewood.
“Based on what I detected,” Luna calls, leaning toward the others from her stag, “it should be right in the center of tha....”
An instant later, powerful blasts of air explode above and among the riders, smashing them down into the upper branches of the trees below them. Looking down, the Guardian Angels see the sources of the downdrafts, a collection of nearly a dozen centaurs, three of them with hands still raised in the aftermath of spellcasting.
Six responds swiftly, using a haste on the group before he dives off his mount into the nearest branches, disappearing into the shadows and mist. Freed of his weight, his startled and wounded mount flies upwards, closely followed by Nameless'. The alienist uses his steed's speed to dart away from the enemies, but casts a radiant assault as he goes. The blast of light strikes three of the newly discovered foes, wounding three and blinding one.
Though two of the spellcasters among the centaurs are wounded, they join the third in calling forth more spells. Two flame strikes and an arc of lightning, all of them empowered, lash the three remaining Angels and their mounts. Two of the stags succumb, their magical bodies disappearing and dropping Luna and Korm painfully a hundred feet to the ground. Gareth's stag survives and the paladin, aided by a ring of evasion, is utterly unhurt.
“Do something – quick!” Gareth yells at the two druids and, hoping to buy some time, casts a blade barrier between them and the closest centaurs. Then he flies down at the three spellcasters, bringing his stag to a halt right next to them, waving the Endless Blade menacingly.
The other eight other centaurs rush forward but, with Gareth's magical barrier in the way, only four can reach the two fallen druids and the blinded one stumbles into a tree. As the centaurs charge in, Luna rises growling to her feet, transforming into her favorite dire bear form and healing some of her wounds. An instant before they reach her, a swift arc of lightning from her strikes two of the centaurs. They continue, nevertheless, driving their lances against her with brutal power, but the thick ursine hide lessens the impact. Korm, momentarily stunned by the fall, isn't quite as lucky. two lances striking him with bone-shattering force. The Gatekeeper grits his teeth and hurriedly uses one of his newly gained abilities. Rolling over, he touches the trunk of a nearby tree and disappears, only to reappear among the branches far above. Hurriedly grabbing hold to avoid falling, he casts an empowered flame strike of his own, striking three of the centaurs.
The remaining three centaurs had headed for Gareth and, even though his heavy armor protects him partially from their attacks, the paladin now finds himself surrounded by six of their enemies, including the three spellcasters. “Guys – a little help here?” he shouts.
“Sure,” comes a voice from the mist behind one of the spellcasters and Six appears, spiked chain whirling. The centaur before him cries out at a crunching blow to the back of a rear fetlock, before a second strike smashes into its head. Though blood spurts from the wound, it remains upright. Stumbling away, it hurls a handful of small objects at the warforged. Six dodges reflexively and the fire seeds fly by, exploding harmlessly behind him.
Gareth is less lucky, another caster striking him with a hypothermia spell, though the paladin resists the worst of it. The third spellcaster raises a hand to cast – and then simply implodes. Nameless flies back into sight above, just completing a spell of his own, and a black, featureless sphere of darkness* appears right where the unfortunate centaur was, its body collapsing into the globe. He follows up with a swift cloudkill, enveloping one of the spellcasters and two more centaurs.
Gareth seizes the opportunity and urges his stag forward. The sole spellcaster in sight doesn't even have a chance to cry out before the Endless Blade neatly decapitates it.
Luna waves an appreciative paw at Nameless and then leaps forward, bowling over one of the four attackers around her with her bulk, biting and clawing as they roll over on the ground. Seconds later she rises, covered in blood from the corpse at her feet. The three remaining centaurs near her charge in, but it's clear that the wounds they are capable of inflicting will not enough to drop her unless they have a great deal of time. Which one of them clearly does not, after Korm—not wanting to miss out on the pleasures of melee combat despite his wounds—simply leaps out his tree and lands blade-first on it.
The battle speeds to its inevitable conclusion, the Angels only being incommoded slightly when the last spellcaster manages to emerge from the cloudkill and bring a icometfall down on Luna and Korm**. But it's not enough to bring either of them down, and the caster falls an instant later under Gareth's sword. Six, Luna and Korm each bring down another enemy and Nameless propels his destructive globe into the last one, bringing silence to the battlefield.
Luna—covered in blood and bruises, fur scorched and still smoking in places—looks around at the carnage and then laughs. “That was awesome!”
“I'm glad you were pleased,” says Nameless dryly, bringing his steed to a landing on the ground beside her. “Let's move on quickly before we have to enjoy more such entertainment.”
A few minutes later, the Angels float down into a wide bowl-shaped indentation in the forest floor, about thirty feet deep and two hundred feet across. It is littered with various bodies, the result of fire storms from Luna and Korm, backed up by a few spells from Gareth and Nameless. All that stands in the bowl is the huge gray stone at its center, a full fifty feet in height and almost equally wide, Its jagged surface seems utterly unaffected by the spells that just roared around and across it, as are the varied dragonshards that stick out of it.
Luna growls as she steps down to the ground. “Dragonshards! Why is it always dragonshards?”
“Because the universe wants to mess with you,” chuckles Korm, but then the smile disappears. “Is it just me or is anyone else hearing … whispering?”
“I can hear it too,” says Gareth, and the others confirm the same. The paladin looks at Nameless. “What's the plan?”
“I think we're all safe thanks to the mind blanks,” the alienist replies, “so we probably have some time. Probably. I'd like to see what I can learn about the stone and then … we'll see.”
“I love it when you're crystal clear, Nameless,” grunts Luna sarcastically.
Ignoring the comment, the alienist walks around the stone, studying it carefully. Then he casts an analyze dweomer and examines it again. After a few moments, he says, “It is definitely warpstone, as I surmised. It seems to contain many consciousnesses, but they're not … for want of a better term, true consciousnesses. More akin to imprints retained within the stone. However, for whatever reason, they now function as something like a hive-mind of sorts. And the stone hungers for more consciousnesses. I am fairly certain that if we could transport it to the location of Antaratma's ritual, it would function as a disruptive influence, since it would try to draw in the soul energy. And I could probably use it as a weapon against the daelkyr.”
“Move it?” Luna gestures at the gigantic stone. “You think we can move it?”
“Possibly. But first I will have to take control of the consciousnesses within.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I'm going to drop my mind blank, make mental contact with the stone and try to gain control of it. If that goes badly,” the alienist smiles thinly, “I have a cunning plan.”
“That simple, huh?” grins Korm.
“Of course,” Nameless replies dryly, but then he glances around the group thoughtfully. “In the interests of safety, I would like to link all of us mentally before I contact the stone, since I will be able to use our connection and the power within each of you to better resist whatever assaults the stone makes upon my psyche.”
After a little more discussion, the Guardian Angels decide that all of them will be linked with a telepathic bond, with Gareth and Luna dropping their mind blanks too. Korm and Six will retain theirs, so that at least a couple of them will be hopefully immune to mental intrusion and control.
Having made the decision, Nameless creates the bond and then calls forth Khat'vanga, having it appear on the Madstone. There is no response from the stone before them, so the alienist removes his mind blank and then draws fully upon his connection with Xoriat. His body shifts as it normally does when he manifests the Aspect of Cyäegha and he calls forth his unique spell, the armor of Xoriat. Immediately, tiny manifestations of the actual layers of the plane of madness begin to whirl and flow around his body.
Now fully prepared, Nameless transmits, “Now!” Luna and Gareth promptly dismiss their mind blanks and the alienist reaches out to touch the Madstone.
* Sphere of Ultimate Destruction (from Spell Compendium)
“Looks like a fun place to visit,” grunts Korm. “Do we head in?”
“Let me try something first,” rasps Nameless. The alienist flies upwards, reaching into an extradimensional space while he ascends, and produces the chunk of warpstone that the Angels had obtained so long ago from the aberrations. Holding the lump of soft gray rock in his hands, Nameless concentrates, attempting to use it as a focus to seek out the Madstone, concealed somewhere within the forest.
The other members of the Guardian Angels watch and wait while Nameless spends a quarter of an hour attempting to discern the Madstone, flying back and forth to see if he can triangulate a location. Finally, he descends and shakes his head while putting away the warpstone. “I pick up a vague whisper of something in there and have a general direction, but that's all. I cannot sense a distance or anything of the kind.”
“A direction's better than nothing,” grunts Luna. “Do you want me to try to commune with nature?”
“Not yet,” the alienist responds. “We're probably too far away for it to be useful. Let's fly over and see if we can get any sense of distance. Then you can use your spell.”
Nobody argues with the plan, so the Angels are soon soaring over the Icewood on their usual collection of phantom stags and steeds in the direction Nameless indicates, searching the misty forest for any sign of the Madstone.
After having traveled over twenty miles, Six and Luna spot an area a dozen miles in the distance which appears to be slightly darker and more overgrown, with the trees in the area also seeming noticeably taller. Having paused for a quick discussion, they descend to a small clearing in the forest below, so that Luna can cast her spell and attempt to decipher more about the area ahead.
Having found as comfortable a spot as she can on the cold ground, the druid settles into a cross-legged position and closes her eyes. Luna chants softly and slowly, beginning to commune with nature, feeling her senses gradually stretch out into the surrounding terrain. There is a few initial moments of discomfort, as if the Icewood—or what lies concealed at its heart—were rejecting the intrusion, but they quickly pass, Luna's incredible will allowing her to push through the resistance.
As she continues the long casting, Six asks Korm, “This will take at least ten minutes, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
The warforged warrior looks around at the thickly clustered trees and the fog beneath their boughs before answering the Gatekeeper. “I'm going to scout around in the meantime. If anything notices or is coming toward us, I'd like to know before it arrives.”
“Okay,” Korm shrugs. “Just be careful and don't get too far away.”
“Yes.” As Six turns away, he adds, over the mental link that their connection to the Silver Flame has given them, “I'll stay in touch.”
The warforged disappears into the trees, both physically and metaphorically, dark tendrils of mist seeping out of his armor and shrouding his form, though he remains able to see perfectly through it. As he moves away, Six slowly increases his speed, from a walk to a slow trot to a quick jog to an outright run. Despite the surrounding undergrowth and trees, the relative gloom and fog, the warforged moves faster than an unencumbered human runner on an open plain, smoothly dodging over, under and around every obstruction in his path without slowing his stride. And he does this almost soundlessly, passing through the forest like a swiftly moving tendril of mist borne on an invisible wind. Soon, Six is tirelessly and swiftly depicting a circle over five hundred feet across, centered on Luna and the other Guardian Angels.
When he was first molded in a creation forge of House Cannith, Six was designed for scouting during the Last War, built for stealth and subterfuge, with his skills in this area enhanced by his inability to feel tiredness. Some of the modifications by Mordain the Fleshweaver have only increased these abilities. But when he is with the other Angels, he is rarely in a situation to utilize them. So now, for a few minutes, Six indulges himself in a way that he normally never does.
Yet even as he silently revels in testing his abilities to the limit, the warforged scout is alert to anything that might stir in the forest around him. So, nearly five minutes after he began his idiosyncratic scouting expedition, he changes direction and darts away, heading toward a sound in the distance.
A few moments later, the other Angels hear Six's voice over the mental link. “There are six creatures coming directly towards us. Fifteen feet tall, with blue hair and skin. Frost giants, I think. They'll be there in two minutes. Get ready.”
Barely a dozen seconds after they receive the message, Six rushes into the small clearing. “They'll be here in a minute,” he says, “and they definitely know we're here, since they're coming in a straight line.”
“Must be the Madstone directing them,” rasps Nameless. He glances at Luna, who is still quietly chanting. “We'll have to stop them before they get here. A distraction would end Luna's spell prematurely.”
There is a pause in the chanting as Luna grunts, with her eyes still closed, “Damn! I wanted to kill something!” Then she resumes the spell, her chanting now sounding distinctly aggrieved.
“Of course you did,” chuckles Gareth, before looking at the others. “Let's go, before she gets too bloodthirsty to care.”
As the four standing Angels head in the direction Six indicates, Luna—eyes still closed and brow furrowed in concentration—bids them goodbye with a raised middle finger.
* * *
The six frost giants move steadily through the forest, pausing only to walk around the larger trees, trampling through or over anything else in their path. Their eyes are set on the direction that they are moving in – or seem to be, if one isn't close enough to notice that they are glassy and seemingly unfocused. Nevertheless, there is no lack of determination in their heavy strides, nor in the way each grips a ten-foot long greataxe.
The giants jerk to a halt simultaneously and turn in unison at the sound of spellcasting ahead and to their right, each raising its weapon to a ready position. The movement and motion is too uniform to be natural – but neither is the force that assaults them.
With a word and a gesture, Nameless tears a hole in the invisible planar barriers that surround Eberron, causing a small portal to Xoriat to appear behind the giants. There is a roaring sound as nearby leaves, branches and even a few small bushes and saplings are instantly drawn to the portal—a jagged gray space hanging in mid-air, shot through with veins of the distinctive greenish-purple of the plane of madness—and through it. The six giants howl in surprise and dig their heels in, some managing to clutch nearby trees to aid them, but three of them are hurled off their feet and into the portal. An instant later it closes, leaving no sign of what it consumed.
“Good job,” says Gareth, stepping in front of Nameless. “Now there are only three, we can force them to come to us and ...”
A loud sound interrupts the paladin. Korm rushes by as fast as he can, hefting his sword and shouting an orcish war-cry.
The three remaining giants react as well, roaring inarticulately and then rushing at the Gatekeeper. The three of them strike in unison, using their reach to bring their greataxes down on Korm before he can reach them. The Gatekeeper staggers under the impact and then steps into range, hacking at one of the giants. The meteoric blade flashes darkly as it bites home, an enhancement within it drawing life from the target and healing some of the Gatekeeper's wounds, but it's clearly far less than the damage inflicted on him.
“Damn!” Gareth moves forward and then, realizing that he is too slow with his heavy armor, calls upon an enhancement of his own. Large white wings spring from the back of his armor and spread wide. Simultaneously, Six appears out of the shadows nearby, triggering a wand that pops out of a concealed slot in his hand. Feeling the haste take effect, Gareth calls “Thanks” and flaps his way smoothly into the air, rising between the trees and maneuvering to a better position.
Nameless quickly conjures forth a pair of huge earth elementals behind the giants, which hammer at the wounded giant. Despite the distraction, the three giants—which are by now actually frothing at the mouth in fury—continue their onslaught, hacking away at Korm. Critically wounded, the Gatekeeper continues to fight back, even though it's obviously only a matter of time before he succumbs.
Seeing an opening, Gareth flies in, a sweep of the Endless Blade hamstringing the wounded giant. As his target stumbles backwards and drops to a knee, a perfectly-aimed fireball from Nameless explodes behind it. Already heavily wounded and particularly susceptible to heat, the frost giant soundlessly collapses.
Another of the giants is burned as well, but it remains on its feet, and a sweeping blow from its greataxe finally overpowers Korm's resilience and drops him in a bloodied heap. Seconds later, it falls beside him under the hammering blows of the two elementals' fists and Gareth's sword.
Ignoring its own wounds, the third giant raises its greataxe above the paladin's head and then hesitates, as what seems to be a thick plume of mist appears before it. The foggy shape resolves itself into Six, his spiked chain leaping out again and again, almost too fast for the eye to follow. It smashes into the giant's knuckles and then, even before the greataxe has slipped from the numbed hand, crunches into the mail over his heart, then lays open his throat, and finally punches right through his eye and into the brain beyond. The giant shudders and then slowly collapses.
Once they have revived Korm and confirmed that there are no other enemies in the immediate area, the Guardian Angels retrace their steps to rejoin Luna, who is just completing her spell when they return. After checking what occurred and complaining again that she didn't get to take part, the druid explains what her commune with nature revealed.
“There's definitely something strange in that area we spotted. There's a gap about five miles across where I can't detect anything. Nothing at all. It was as blank to the spell as an artificial structure would be, but if there was a five mile break in the forest, we'd have seen it. Also, even though the area was blank to me, I detected a strong … a very strong unnatural presence right in the center.”
“That,” Nameless rasps, “must be the Madstone. Good. Now we know exactly where to go.”
Korm chuckles, the experience of a near-fatal battle only having added to his fatalistic sense of humor. “Of course – if we can find the most unnatural thing in a strange, creepy forest, that must be where we're supposed to head.”
“Funny,” grunts Luna, “but that isn't all. I also picked up dozens of unnatural creatures in the area. I mean the nineteen miles in each direction that I could sense. And most of them were heading right for us.”
“It's not surprising,” says Six. “I thought the frost giants were very precise in their direction.” He looks around at the others. “What do we do?”
“Just fly over them and to this Madstone?” suggests Gareth.
“Yes, but I think we should wait a bit,” opines Nameless. “If we wait for some time, it'll draw more of the creatures near the Madstone towards us, and if we then fly towards it, we'll leave more enemies behind.”
The others agree and the Angels cast a few preparatory spells and put themselves into a defensive position. The next half an hour is spent in fighting off assaults by multiple groups of enemies, ranging from a dozen humans wearing only rags and wielding wooden spears to a single overgrown remorhaz.
After having dealt with the latter, Nameless says, “I think we have spent enough time. Let us head on now.”
The Guardian Angels mount the phantom steeds and stags that have been patiently awaiting them and are soon flying over the forest. With the incredible speed of their mounts, within a few minutes they can clearly see the section indicated by Luna, darker and more deeply misty than the rest of the Icewood.
“Based on what I detected,” Luna calls, leaning toward the others from her stag, “it should be right in the center of tha....”
An instant later, powerful blasts of air explode above and among the riders, smashing them down into the upper branches of the trees below them. Looking down, the Guardian Angels see the sources of the downdrafts, a collection of nearly a dozen centaurs, three of them with hands still raised in the aftermath of spellcasting.
Six responds swiftly, using a haste on the group before he dives off his mount into the nearest branches, disappearing into the shadows and mist. Freed of his weight, his startled and wounded mount flies upwards, closely followed by Nameless'. The alienist uses his steed's speed to dart away from the enemies, but casts a radiant assault as he goes. The blast of light strikes three of the newly discovered foes, wounding three and blinding one.
Though two of the spellcasters among the centaurs are wounded, they join the third in calling forth more spells. Two flame strikes and an arc of lightning, all of them empowered, lash the three remaining Angels and their mounts. Two of the stags succumb, their magical bodies disappearing and dropping Luna and Korm painfully a hundred feet to the ground. Gareth's stag survives and the paladin, aided by a ring of evasion, is utterly unhurt.
“Do something – quick!” Gareth yells at the two druids and, hoping to buy some time, casts a blade barrier between them and the closest centaurs. Then he flies down at the three spellcasters, bringing his stag to a halt right next to them, waving the Endless Blade menacingly.
The other eight other centaurs rush forward but, with Gareth's magical barrier in the way, only four can reach the two fallen druids and the blinded one stumbles into a tree. As the centaurs charge in, Luna rises growling to her feet, transforming into her favorite dire bear form and healing some of her wounds. An instant before they reach her, a swift arc of lightning from her strikes two of the centaurs. They continue, nevertheless, driving their lances against her with brutal power, but the thick ursine hide lessens the impact. Korm, momentarily stunned by the fall, isn't quite as lucky. two lances striking him with bone-shattering force. The Gatekeeper grits his teeth and hurriedly uses one of his newly gained abilities. Rolling over, he touches the trunk of a nearby tree and disappears, only to reappear among the branches far above. Hurriedly grabbing hold to avoid falling, he casts an empowered flame strike of his own, striking three of the centaurs.
The remaining three centaurs had headed for Gareth and, even though his heavy armor protects him partially from their attacks, the paladin now finds himself surrounded by six of their enemies, including the three spellcasters. “Guys – a little help here?” he shouts.
“Sure,” comes a voice from the mist behind one of the spellcasters and Six appears, spiked chain whirling. The centaur before him cries out at a crunching blow to the back of a rear fetlock, before a second strike smashes into its head. Though blood spurts from the wound, it remains upright. Stumbling away, it hurls a handful of small objects at the warforged. Six dodges reflexively and the fire seeds fly by, exploding harmlessly behind him.
Gareth is less lucky, another caster striking him with a hypothermia spell, though the paladin resists the worst of it. The third spellcaster raises a hand to cast – and then simply implodes. Nameless flies back into sight above, just completing a spell of his own, and a black, featureless sphere of darkness* appears right where the unfortunate centaur was, its body collapsing into the globe. He follows up with a swift cloudkill, enveloping one of the spellcasters and two more centaurs.
Gareth seizes the opportunity and urges his stag forward. The sole spellcaster in sight doesn't even have a chance to cry out before the Endless Blade neatly decapitates it.
Luna waves an appreciative paw at Nameless and then leaps forward, bowling over one of the four attackers around her with her bulk, biting and clawing as they roll over on the ground. Seconds later she rises, covered in blood from the corpse at her feet. The three remaining centaurs near her charge in, but it's clear that the wounds they are capable of inflicting will not enough to drop her unless they have a great deal of time. Which one of them clearly does not, after Korm—not wanting to miss out on the pleasures of melee combat despite his wounds—simply leaps out his tree and lands blade-first on it.
The battle speeds to its inevitable conclusion, the Angels only being incommoded slightly when the last spellcaster manages to emerge from the cloudkill and bring a icometfall down on Luna and Korm**. But it's not enough to bring either of them down, and the caster falls an instant later under Gareth's sword. Six, Luna and Korm each bring down another enemy and Nameless propels his destructive globe into the last one, bringing silence to the battlefield.
Luna—covered in blood and bruises, fur scorched and still smoking in places—looks around at the carnage and then laughs. “That was awesome!”
“I'm glad you were pleased,” says Nameless dryly, bringing his steed to a landing on the ground beside her. “Let's move on quickly before we have to enjoy more such entertainment.”
A few minutes later, the Angels float down into a wide bowl-shaped indentation in the forest floor, about thirty feet deep and two hundred feet across. It is littered with various bodies, the result of fire storms from Luna and Korm, backed up by a few spells from Gareth and Nameless. All that stands in the bowl is the huge gray stone at its center, a full fifty feet in height and almost equally wide, Its jagged surface seems utterly unaffected by the spells that just roared around and across it, as are the varied dragonshards that stick out of it.
Luna growls as she steps down to the ground. “Dragonshards! Why is it always dragonshards?”
“Because the universe wants to mess with you,” chuckles Korm, but then the smile disappears. “Is it just me or is anyone else hearing … whispering?”
“I can hear it too,” says Gareth, and the others confirm the same. The paladin looks at Nameless. “What's the plan?”
“I think we're all safe thanks to the mind blanks,” the alienist replies, “so we probably have some time. Probably. I'd like to see what I can learn about the stone and then … we'll see.”
“I love it when you're crystal clear, Nameless,” grunts Luna sarcastically.
Ignoring the comment, the alienist walks around the stone, studying it carefully. Then he casts an analyze dweomer and examines it again. After a few moments, he says, “It is definitely warpstone, as I surmised. It seems to contain many consciousnesses, but they're not … for want of a better term, true consciousnesses. More akin to imprints retained within the stone. However, for whatever reason, they now function as something like a hive-mind of sorts. And the stone hungers for more consciousnesses. I am fairly certain that if we could transport it to the location of Antaratma's ritual, it would function as a disruptive influence, since it would try to draw in the soul energy. And I could probably use it as a weapon against the daelkyr.”
“Move it?” Luna gestures at the gigantic stone. “You think we can move it?”
“Possibly. But first I will have to take control of the consciousnesses within.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I'm going to drop my mind blank, make mental contact with the stone and try to gain control of it. If that goes badly,” the alienist smiles thinly, “I have a cunning plan.”
“That simple, huh?” grins Korm.
“Of course,” Nameless replies dryly, but then he glances around the group thoughtfully. “In the interests of safety, I would like to link all of us mentally before I contact the stone, since I will be able to use our connection and the power within each of you to better resist whatever assaults the stone makes upon my psyche.”
After a little more discussion, the Guardian Angels decide that all of them will be linked with a telepathic bond, with Gareth and Luna dropping their mind blanks too. Korm and Six will retain theirs, so that at least a couple of them will be hopefully immune to mental intrusion and control.
Having made the decision, Nameless creates the bond and then calls forth Khat'vanga, having it appear on the Madstone. There is no response from the stone before them, so the alienist removes his mind blank and then draws fully upon his connection with Xoriat. His body shifts as it normally does when he manifests the Aspect of Cyäegha and he calls forth his unique spell, the armor of Xoriat. Immediately, tiny manifestations of the actual layers of the plane of madness begin to whirl and flow around his body.
Now fully prepared, Nameless transmits, “Now!” Luna and Gareth promptly dismiss their mind blanks and the alienist reaches out to touch the Madstone.
* Sphere of Ultimate Destruction (from Spell Compendium)
carborundum
Adventurer
Now we're really getting somewhere Great fights as usual - you butt kicking 19th level heroes, you!
Loved the interesting spell choices, Shil. I just swapped out a bunch of my bad guy spells to add downdraft and cometfall
Great fights as usual - you butt kicking 19th level heroes, you!Loved the interesting spell choices, Shil. I just swapped out a bunch of my bad guy spells to add downdraft and cometfall
shilsen
Adventurer
Now we're really getting somewhere
I didn't expect those fights to be too challenging (only EL19 each, though as usual they were pretty tough for their level), but even so the PCs handled them very well. And it's not a patch on the stuff they do subsequently.
Loved the interesting spell choices, Shil. I just swapped out a bunch of my bad guy spells to add downdraft and cometfall
Those are both nasty spells for their level (esp. Downdraft). Check out Bombardment too. The power level disparity between the Spell Compendium and the core spells is a little high, IME, and gets higher as you go up in level.
One of Shils talents is to take "core" material and make kick butt enemies, though he also throws in choice material from other books. One of Shils weaknesses is his ability to pre-judge if an encounter will be suitable for the group. Consequently our "death" count in this campaign is high. Shil keeps a record, but I think we come out to almost a death a session. The only thing that prevents this true death are certain in-house rules to minimize it. That rule had to come about because, well, we would have way too many deaths.
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shilsen
Adventurer
You're assuming the amount of difficulty isn't precisely what I intended
Actually, it was almost exactly one per two sessions (49 in 101 sessions, to be precise).
Which is just about where I wanted it to be in terms of difficulty and PCs going down. I've grown to like combat (as both DM and player) to be akin to what one sees in superhero comics with ensemble casts, where any serious fight will have at least one or two members of the team go down (preferably after having a distinct effect on the battle), leaving the others scrambling to win. Unfortunately, D&D (or, more precisely, 3e) gives you a very narrow window of 10 hp between being unconscious and being dead, which is utterly negligible at higher levels. Pathfinder only slightly moderates that. So in both the Guardian Angels game and our Kingmaker game, there's a pretty good chance that if a PC goes down they're dead. Our "down but not dead" house rule works well to ameliorate that issue.
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