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Story Hour
Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)
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<blockquote data-quote="shilsen" data-source="post: 6046126" data-attributes="member: 198"><p><em>Finally</em>--here's the next update. Apologies for the insane amount of delays and thanks to anyone who's still reading...</p><p></p><p>* * * * * * * * * *</p><p></p><p>Nameless’ words, as usual, mean far more than the other Guardian Angels understand, and he realizes what they do not. Though they can see some of the endless layers of Xoriat around them, strangely overlapping the hazy sight of the battling armies within the Mournland, the alienist realizes that this area is separated from all that surrounds it. The other layers of Xoriat do not impinge on this area, though they flow all around it. There is nothing here. Absolutely nothing. Nameless and his companions are in a place which exists (and the word seems wildly out of place here), or was supposed to, only in the fevered dreams of the greatest alienists. This is the heart of Xoriat, where all of creation achieves perfection by becoming utter nothingness. This is a spot where even the denizens of the Plane of Madness—however powerful they might be—do not, or cannot, come. It is anathema to all that uneducated minds hold to as reality. The best analogue to it, Nameless thinks, in the limited parlance of mortal language, might be to call it a gigantic sphere of annihilation. Which may explain why, an instant later, what remains of the ziggurat crumbles away, leaving only the Guardian Angels, Antaratma and Mual-Tar, floating in the perfection of utter emptiness.</p><p></p><p>For a split second, Nameless is uncertain how and why they are able to exist here, but the answer comes swiftly to him. The Angels and their two foes are glowing brightly with silver light, long ropes of which connect all seven of them. Each individual present is currently suffused with the soul energy of thousands of living creatures. No, the alienist quickly realizes, tens or hundreds of thousands, if not millions. The soul energy of not only all who died on the Day of Mourning but most of the power that once flowed in the Silver Flame, and who knows what other sources that Antaratma had harvested to begin his ritual. That combined energy now fills the Angels, Antaratma and Mual-Tar, warding them from the deleterious effects of the place that they are in. The silver light flows between each of the seven, linking them all in a bond which Nameless realizes is currently indissoluble. </p><p></p><p>While the other Angels do not realize all that Nameless does, the one thing that they similarly notice is the sensation of power. At various points, they have all been empowered by conventional spells and supernatural boons, by the modifications of Mordain and by the blessing of the Silver Flame. This feeling, while similar, occurs at a completely different level. Energy drawn from the lives of who knows how many creatures fills them, far too much to retain safely within them, crying out to be released and relinquished. At this moment, each of the Angels realizes, they are suffused with more power than they have ever possessed—the energy to destroy and the ability to create, simply by willing things into or out of existence. This must be what it feels like to be a god. </p><p></p><p>The power suffusing the Angels and their enemies also has some additional manifestations. The most obvious one appears to be the translucent ‘window’ onto the Mournland which surrounds them. Multiple tiny tendrils of the silvery light extend through the borders of the <em>kuch-naa</em> and out to the ‘window’, keeping the Angels still connected, if in the most tenuous manner, to the world that they have so recently left. Gesturing at it, Luna asks, “Can we get out of this place?” Nameless gestures at the vista and says, “I think so, using the soul energy. But first ….” He jerks his head, as Antaratma and Mual-Tar both begin to move, and then hurriedly says, “Now we do this as we planned—as a team.”</p><p></p><p>Six, as usual the quickest to act, thinks of using his wand. What is not usual, however, is the next occurrence. As soon as the warforged conceives of the action, the silver energy surrounding him pulses, a tiny fragment of it dissipating while all of the Angels are promptly <em>haste</em>d. Not only does Six’s wand remain unused, but the action occurs instantaneously, far quicker than using the magic item is. </p><p></p><p>Availing of the opportunity, Six swiftly readies his spiked chain to attack, while saying, “That was <em>not</em> the wand. I think the silver light let me do it … by thinking of it.” If any more confirmation was needed of the Angels’ changed circumstances, even before he completes the words, his companions hear them inside their heads.</p><p></p><p>“So the energy lets us do … whatever we wish to?” asks Korm, the question again communicated instantly to his companions.</p><p></p><p>“Probably not <em>anything</em> we could wish,” replies Nameless cautiously. “Try drawing on it as Six did, to replicate spells we know of. And then we can try more.”</p><p></p><p>“Good! Anything which lets me blow those two up,” says Luna, the mental communication occurring in the druid’s characteristic growl, “and go home works for me! I’ve had it with them!”</p><p></p><p>“Me too!” agrees Gareth. The paladin concentrates on the energy around him, trying to replicate an <em>enervation</em> effect. As with Six, there is a pulse, but—whether due to Gareth’s connection to the Silver Flame or through pure happenstance—this time it is dramatically stronger. What shoots from the paladin’s outstretched gauntlet is not only a spell that would normally be beyond his capabilities but one functioning at a level beyond what even Nameless could have achieved on Khorvaire. </p><p></p><p>The <em>empowered energy drain</em> shoots forward, seemingly covering far more distance than it normally should, and strikes Antaratma squarely. Unfortunately, this is to no avail, since the daelkyr lord is immune to such effects, as the smile on his face indicates. </p><p></p><p>Antaratma’s expression changes rapidly as the paladin switches tack. More than the others, Gareth feels a strong connection to the energy surrounding them, sensing it dramatically enhancing the abilities which the Silver Flame had granted him. Now he calls on one of these, a rarely used skill provided via his training as an exorcist. On Khorvaire, the paladin’s action would have been intended to purge the souls from a possessed individual. Here, with Gareth brimming over with the power of the Flame, it has a dramatically different effect. Streams of silver light fountain out from Antaratma’s body and the daelkyr lord convulses in agony.</p><p></p><p>“Nice one, Gareth!” shouts Luna, transforming into a giant elemental as she speaks, the action far swifter than it has ever been for her. The druid raises a flaming arm, causing a <em>maximized polar ray</em>—its crackling cold contrasting oddly with the fiery limb it emanates from—to shoot out. The ray successfully strikes Antaratma, further wounding and freezing the daelkyr lord, thanks to the diminishment of his normal resistances by Gareth’s timely attack. Emitting a triumphant chuckle, the druid swiftly follows with a <em>greater dispel magic</em> that suppresses the daelkyr lord’s <em>ring of three wishes</em>. </p><p></p><p>“My turn!” Seeing the cloud of silver motes that left Antaratma’s body still floating nearby, Korm attempts something different, trying to suck them in. Comprehending and clearly concerned at the possibility, the wounded daelkyr lord hurriedly ripostes mentally. A tentacle of silver light shoots from each of them at the cloud, meeting and slashing violently. After an instant of abortive struggle, the Gatekeeper growls his disappointment and gives up. Instead, hefting his meteoric blade, he shoots forward. </p><p></p><p>Korm is only trying to get closer to Antaratma, since the daelkyr lord appears to be a couple hundred feet away from him, but as he moves what seems to be a dozen feet from his position, he disappears—and reappears instantly next to his target. Not bothering to question the situation, the Gatekeeper shouts an inarticulate battle-cry and brings the sword down. Still suffering from reduced defenses thanks to Gareth’s attack, Antaratma shrieks in agony, his entire torso laid open. Where bones and organs would be visible on a human being, the Angels see only malformed lumps of purplish-green flesh, from which more silver motes stream.</p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, the wounded daelkyr lord is not the only enemy present. While he staggers and attempts to mount a defense, there is a tremendous roar. Mual-Tar rushes forward. Like Korm, the Chaos Serpent initially appears to be far from its targets, but it is instantly on top of the Guardian Angels. Not even bothering to use its giant maw, Mual-Tar simply smashes through the Angels, bowling them out of its way. On Khorvaire, the impact would have left most of them crippled. Here, they are mostly just badly bruised.</p><p></p><p>More troubling is the time it gives Antaratma, who promptly uses the soul-energy to activate a <em>mass heal</em> on himself, closing most—though not all—of his wounds. Rejuvenated, he follows with a <em>chained dispel magic</em> attempting to strip their protections from the Angels. Nameless’ <em>greater counterspelling</em> ring flares to life immediately, the alienist hurriedly feeding in additional soul-energy to enable it to absorb the spell. With a frustrated snarl, Antaratma locks eyes with Nameless, ignoring the smack of Six’s chain, which appears to have shot out two hundred feet before it strikes him. The alienist feels an incredible pressure on his body*, attempting to crush and morph him into a helpless form, but—after a tremendous effort—he fights off the attack.</p><p></p><p>As Antaratma floats backwards, preparing for another attack, Korm too recoils, once more disappearing and reappearing closer to his allies. “What’s with the weird distance thing?” he asks, readying his sword.</p><p></p><p> “Distance doesn’t actually exist here,” says Nameless, before smiling slyly. “Nor time, for that matter.” Seemingly without moving or taking any action, the alienist is suddenly right beside Antaratma. Something flickers in the darkness and time simply stops for everyone besides the two of them, making the other Angels and Mual-Tar appear to be frozen in place. “My friend...,” Nameless begins, before cocking his head to one side and pausing for a moment. “Actually, you are in a real sense, my oldest friend. You were there when I was ‘born’ and at least a fragment of you will be there when I die.” </p><p></p><p>“And this,” Nameless looks around, an oddly beatific smile on his face, “this is beyond ... words, beyond what even one such as I could imagine or comprehend. Xoriat ... is even more glorious than my experience could ever have prepared me for and I see now that you can offer this to me in ways I can only dimly comprehend. So, finally, I’m willing to throw in with you and lend my strength to you against my ‘compatriots’.” The alienist sneers, glancing at the other Angels.</p><p></p><p>“But there is one thing, just one thing that I need from you first.” Suddenly, from nowhere, Nameless whips out a sheet of paper on a board with a stylus. “I need you to fill out this survey.”</p><p></p><p>Antaratma has dealt with the Angels multiple times, facing their inherent chaos, which has sometimes baffled even such an incomprehensible entity as a daelkyr lord, but he has steadily grown more prepared for their odd actions. However, this non-sequitur is too much for even him. A look of stunned incomprehension flashes across the perfect features. Reflexively, almost of its own volition, his hand reaches out for the survey. </p><p></p><p>And then, just as his fingers close, there is something else in Nameless’ grasp, the alienist having moved so quickly that it isn’t even a motion.** Antaratma’s hand closes on an enormous gem, one lovingly and oh-so-carefully prepared by Nameless during long nights in Khorvaire .... with the dweomer <em>trap the soul</em>.</p><p></p><p>A look of belated realization appears on Antaratma’s visage and he opens his mouth, but before he can speak a word, his form turns misty and is sucked into the gem. </p><p></p><p>“YES!” Nameless holds aloft the gem and shouts loudly, “I alone have done that which was last done millennia ago, requiring all of the Gatekeepers combined! I have bound a DAELKYR LORD!” The alienist peers into the gem, as if he might be able to see the prisoner within. “What do you think of that … Auntie?”</p><p></p><p>The space around him shimmers again, the incredible power which had temporarily frozen time now ending. </p><p></p><p>Which is instantly accompanied by a loud splitting sound.</p><p></p><p>Nameless glares at the crack which runs across the gem in his hand, the powerful magical enhancements which lace it providing little protection as the deleterious influence of the <em>kuch-naa</em> now reasserts itself. A faint mist begins to seep out of the crack.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, bugger!” </p><p></p><p>With time reasserting itself, Mual-Tar once more flows inexorably forward. Attempting to slow it, Six disappears and reappears, over and over, so quickly that it seems there are half a dozen warforged present, circling and slashing at the moving Worm with his chain. An instant later, Luna unleashes a <em>meteor swarm</em>. The fiery explosions smash into the onrushing behemoth, only a second ahead of Korm, who hurtles in with blade swinging, carving a slash twice as long as his body into its flesh. Gareth, meanwhile, attempts to purge the soul-energy from the Chaos Serpent as he did from Antaratma moments ago. He is again successful, but the streams of silver light seem inconsequential in comparison to the huge amount of soul-energy limning the gigantic Worm’s form. Similarly, though the attacks of the other Angels leave their marks on Mual-Tar’s body, it appears only marginally hurt.</p><p></p><p>Not slowing down, their gigantic foe smashes into the Guardian Angels one more time, hurling them about the strange battlefield. Nameless is almost critically wounded by this second assault, the magical gem tumbling from his hand as he floats in mid-air. </p><p></p><p>“Hang on!” Luna shouts, swiftly using soul-energy to <em>heal</em> the alienist. “Anyone got any suggestions?” </p><p></p><p>“I could,” says Korm, “just let the damn thing eat me and try to cut it open from the inside. That may distract it and give the rest of you a chance to take it down. Until I die, that is.” The Gatekeeper readies himself to charge, his expression far less dour than should be the case for someone planning to use suicide as a tactical option.</p><p></p><p>“NO!” Four voices ring out simultaneously, the other Angels hurriedly explaining at once—with unusual unison of purpose—that they need to work together and concentrate their abilities to win this. </p><p></p><p>“And,” Nameless concludes, “I have another option.” He speaks a single word—and Khat’van’ga appears.</p><p></p><p>For those who have not experienced the things that the Angels have, the Horror is a terrifying sight at the best of times. Now, in the very heart of the plane of which it is born, Khat’van’ga’s shape defies description, an amorphous amalgamation of tentacles, claws, eyes and elements for which no mortal tongue has words. Khat’van’ga’s central mass now stretches fully a hundred feet, its tentacles more than doubling this length. </p><p></p><p>Despite its increased size, Khat’van’ga is still far less than half the length and bulk of the Chaos Serpent, but it does not hesitate, flowing forward to attach itself to Mual-Tar’s size. Tentacles, claws, suckers and fangs rip into the Worm’s hide, ripping away its flesh and sending streams of silver energy flowing out. Mual-Tar flagellates in evident agony and then spins around, trying to bite at Khat’van’ga and wrap a coil around the smaller creature. </p><p></p><p>As the two titans attack each other, a soft susurrus permeates the area, a sibilant and wordless whisper that smacks of fascinated appreciation. The source—or sources—of the sound are a variety of shapes that have silently appeared out of the layers of Xoriat over the last few seconds. They are a variety of large shapes, all situated just outside the limits of the <em>kuch-naa</em>, some hovering in place while others float back and forth. All of them are a combination of translucence and transparence, and do not seem aware of—or at least not responding to—each other’s presence, some of them actually flowing through each other as they move.</p><p></p><p>Nameless smiles as he spots one of the largest of them, a gigantic eye that floats in space, a nest of tentacles moving idly beneath the unblinking orb. <em>Cyaëgha!</em> “They are the Great Old Ones,” he says quickly. “Don’t worry—they’re not actually here. They must have been attracted by our presence here and come to see,” a note of pride is evident in his voice, “what could trespass where even they cannot go.” </p><p></p><p>“Great!” Korm grunts, “Even our peanut gallery is amazing!”</p><p></p><p>“Look,” Six’s pragmatic voice cuts in, “he’s back!”</p><p></p><p>As the warforged warns, the cloud of mist that has been seeping out of the abandoned gem has now reformed into a slightly confused and utterly enraged-looking Antaratma. The daelkyr lord throws one quick glance around the changed battlefield and hurriedly unleashes a blast of soul-energy. The motes transform into razor-sharp shards of diamond which rip into the Angels, further wounding them.</p><p></p><p>Antaratma smiles triumphantly and raises a hand. “And now, I <em>wish</em>…”</p><p></p><p>Luna emits a loud chuckle. “No, you <em>don’t!</em>!”</p><p></p><p>Expressions of surprise and outrage, followed instantly by shock and horror, flash across the daelkyr lord’s face as he look at his hand—and the ring on it. What Antaratma has, fatally, forgotten is that while time may have appeared to pass for him within Nameless’ magical gem, he was held in stasis, as was everything and every effect on him. His wounds still remain—as does the effect of Luna’s previous <em>dispel</em>ling of his ring.</p><p></p><p>Before Antaratma can recover from his error, Six’s chain smashes squarely into his left eye, propelled unerringly thanks to a swift, soul-energy-fuelled <em>true strike</em>. The daelkyr lord screams in pain and fury, reaching up toward his face, but before he can touch it, Korm is once more upon him, crossing space and time within an instant. Antaratma dodges backwards but the Gatekeeper stays on him, their actions causing the pair to flash in and out of existence around the blank sphere, appearing here and there, but always right next to each other. </p><p></p><p>Ignoring the odd sensation of seeing his allies and the battling titans appear and disappear constantly, Korm focuses on the target before him and brings the meteoric blade down. The silver motes limning its blade flash as it falls, neatly severing first the tentacle-whip attached to Antaratma and then the arm beneath it. </p><p></p><p>Streams of silver spray from the wound as the daelkyr lord howls, still trying vainly to backpedal from the Gatekeeper, but there is no respite for him. A <em>bombardment</em> from Luna smashes him off his feet, causing him to momentarily pinwheel in the gravity-less void and, before he can recover, two beams of light touch him. One, glowing brightly of mingled argent and azure, is a <em>maximized bolt of glory</em> from Gareth, while the other, dark green shot through with streaks of purple, is an <em>empowered maximized disintegrate</em> from Nameless. </p><p></p><p>Antaratma explodes, all which is left of his form being a cloud of silver motes which float where he had so recently been. Another loud susurrus of excitement accompanies his passing from the watching Great Old Ones, perhaps the only creatures in existence which had seen a daelkyr lord die before this moment.</p><p></p><p>The Guardian Angels do not, however, have time to relish the victory. Turning their attention back to Mual-Tar and Khat’van’ga, they find that the battle has inevitably turned against the latter. The Chaos Worm has managed to grab the smaller creature in its coils and now it squeezes, slowly crushing the Horror. Nevertheless, Khat’van’ga fights on, adding to the significant wounds that it already has inflicted. </p><p></p><p>Using the opportunity created by the Horror, the Angels strike hurriedly, spells and weapons ripping into Mual-Tar. The soul energy connecting all the combatants evidently allow the attacks to bypass the Worm’s considerable resistance to damage and to magic, allowing them to be dramatically more effective, but Mual-Tar is far from critically wounded. Its gigantic maw opens wide, revealing the myriad rows of huge teeth within, and then snaps shut. Khat’van’ga convulses as fully half of it is bitten off and then goes limp, slowly beginning to fade away.***</p><p></p><p>Nameless cries out, feeling an odd—and excruciating—sensation within him, as if part of his very being had been ripped away. As he does so, the Worm drops what remains of its late enemy and charges, the huge bulk arrowing straight at him. Mual-Tar ignores the other Angels as they desperately attack, trying to slow it down, its gigantic maw opening once more. The alienist hurriedly retreats, but he is too slow and—with distance being meaningless in the <em>kuch-naa</em>—far too close. As the others watch in awed horror, the Chaos Serpent’s jaws close around his comparatively tiny form. </p><p></p><p>Or at least they seem to. At the very last moment, there is a pulse of magical energy where Nameless was and the alienist disappears, having folded time in on itself to return to a spot he had occupied seconds ago****. Instead of the Chaos Serpent swallowing him whole, Nameless is only shoved aside by its bulk, which leaves him badly wounded, but at least not forever consumed.</p><p></p><p>“Now!” the alienist shouts as Mual-Tar hesitates for just an instant, having realized that its quarry has escaped. “Hit it with all you have!”</p><p></p><p>As he speaks, Nameless goes through a series of gestures, simultaneously calling on the soul energy and his own dwindling life force. Blood pours out as streaks of flesh rip off his arms, the droplets coalescing as they fall into tiny orbs of energy. With a motion, the alienist sends them shooting forward, morphing as they do so into a large, crackling globe. When it impacts with Mual-Tar’s head, the globe explodes, ravaging the Worm’s flesh with waves of acid, fire, electricity and sonic energy. The result also leaves Nameless critically wounded, but the access to the soul energy allows his companions to swiftly heal him while they follow his lead.</p><p></p><p>Six’s spiked chain impacts the same spot as Nameless’ <em>hellball</em>, powered by a soul energy-fueled <em>limited wish</em> and ripping free gobbets of weakened flesh. It is followed by a huge comet of flame from Luna, maximized in its effectiveness, which causes the gigantic Worm to shudder. </p><p></p><p>And then Gareth and Korm streak in together, like two smaller comets, the Endless Blade and the meteoric sword held in advance. The Gatekeeper’s sword crackles with necromantic energy, a <em>maximized vampiric touch</em> healing Korm as he smashes a deep wound in Mual-Tar’s flesh, while the paladin’s weapon erupts in flame as he smites the Worm with all his might.</p><p></p><p>Despite the damage it has suffered, enough to have laid low a battalion of the dragons of Argonnessen and then some, the Chaos Serpent is not yet done. Streaming gore and torrents of silver light from its myriad wounds, Mual-Tar turns for another attack.</p><p></p><p>But Gareth is not done either. Drawing on a rarely used gift from the Flame, the paladin channels the energy of his attack into a boon for his allies and sends a stream of light flowing to Korm. </p><p></p><p>The Gatekeeper feels his movements speed up dramatically for a few moments. Ripping his sword free, he leaps up, twirling in mid-air. And then smashes down with all of his might, pouring as much soul energy as he can into the strike and calling on every last iota of power in his weapon. He hits with an impact so powerful that the sword disappears entirely into his target, Korm momentarily standing buried to both knees and elbows in Mual-Tar’s flesh.</p><p></p><p>Even the greatest craftsmen of the Gatekeepers, painstakingly forging the meteoric blade from the heart of a fallen star, centuries ago in the depths of the Shadow Marches, would not have expected it to avail against such a foe as Mual-Tar. Certainly, on Eberron it would have had only limited utility against the Worm. But ironically, in the heart of the Plane of Madness, with its foe so badly wounded and Korm empowered beyond the mightiest champions of the Gatekeepers, things are different. </p><p></p><p>The meteoric blade explodes.</p><p></p><p>And so does the Chaos Serpent, the hitherto-immortal eater of worlds. </p><p></p><p>If the explosion of Antaratma released a flood of soul energy, then Mual-Tar’s dissolving form sets forth a small ocean, the Angels momentarily unable to even see each other as they are enveloped in silver light. When their vision clears, they stand alone in the <em>kuch-naa</em>. Even the watching Great Old Ones are utterly silent and almost motionless, as if waiting avidly to see what these fascinating creatures do next.</p><p></p><p>“And that,” says Korm, surprise as strong as satisfaction in his voice, “I believe, is that!”</p><p></p><p>“And none of you got yourselves killed! Yeah!” Luna exults. </p><p></p><p>Smiling from ear to ear, Gareth opens his mouth to say something, then pauses and clicks his fingers, causing the Endless Blade to disappear—along with its loud, triumphant, and expletive-ridden babbling. “So—shall we go home?”</p><p></p><p>Six, never one to make assumptions without information, turns to Nameless. “Can we?”</p><p></p><p>The alienist, smirking victoriously as he gazes at the translucent shape of Cyaëgha, turns his attention to another area outside the <em>kuch-naa</em>. Nameless gazes for a few seconds at the ‘window’ that looks onto the Mournland, to and from which tiny streams of silver light are flowing.</p><p></p><p>Finally, he speaks, his rasping tone betokening a combination of pride, fascination, and amusement, underlying all of which is something that the others have rarely, if ever, heard from him—contentment. “Possibly. But I shall not be returning with you.” </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>* Quickened <em>polymorph any object</em>.</p><p></p><p>** Natural 20 plus Sleight of hand + 28 (Fatespinner class skill) and Moment of insight +20. Poor Aunty never had a chance. </p><p></p><p>*** Mual-Tar auto-kills <em>any</em> target on a natural 19-20.</p><p></p><p>**** Got a natural 20 vs. Nameless, but he used a Fatespinner ability to cause Mual-Tar to reroll.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="shilsen, post: 6046126, member: 198"] [I]Finally[/I]--here's the next update. Apologies for the insane amount of delays and thanks to anyone who's still reading... * * * * * * * * * * Nameless’ words, as usual, mean far more than the other Guardian Angels understand, and he realizes what they do not. Though they can see some of the endless layers of Xoriat around them, strangely overlapping the hazy sight of the battling armies within the Mournland, the alienist realizes that this area is separated from all that surrounds it. The other layers of Xoriat do not impinge on this area, though they flow all around it. There is nothing here. Absolutely nothing. Nameless and his companions are in a place which exists (and the word seems wildly out of place here), or was supposed to, only in the fevered dreams of the greatest alienists. This is the heart of Xoriat, where all of creation achieves perfection by becoming utter nothingness. This is a spot where even the denizens of the Plane of Madness—however powerful they might be—do not, or cannot, come. It is anathema to all that uneducated minds hold to as reality. The best analogue to it, Nameless thinks, in the limited parlance of mortal language, might be to call it a gigantic sphere of annihilation. Which may explain why, an instant later, what remains of the ziggurat crumbles away, leaving only the Guardian Angels, Antaratma and Mual-Tar, floating in the perfection of utter emptiness. For a split second, Nameless is uncertain how and why they are able to exist here, but the answer comes swiftly to him. The Angels and their two foes are glowing brightly with silver light, long ropes of which connect all seven of them. Each individual present is currently suffused with the soul energy of thousands of living creatures. No, the alienist quickly realizes, tens or hundreds of thousands, if not millions. The soul energy of not only all who died on the Day of Mourning but most of the power that once flowed in the Silver Flame, and who knows what other sources that Antaratma had harvested to begin his ritual. That combined energy now fills the Angels, Antaratma and Mual-Tar, warding them from the deleterious effects of the place that they are in. The silver light flows between each of the seven, linking them all in a bond which Nameless realizes is currently indissoluble. While the other Angels do not realize all that Nameless does, the one thing that they similarly notice is the sensation of power. At various points, they have all been empowered by conventional spells and supernatural boons, by the modifications of Mordain and by the blessing of the Silver Flame. This feeling, while similar, occurs at a completely different level. Energy drawn from the lives of who knows how many creatures fills them, far too much to retain safely within them, crying out to be released and relinquished. At this moment, each of the Angels realizes, they are suffused with more power than they have ever possessed—the energy to destroy and the ability to create, simply by willing things into or out of existence. This must be what it feels like to be a god. The power suffusing the Angels and their enemies also has some additional manifestations. The most obvious one appears to be the translucent ‘window’ onto the Mournland which surrounds them. Multiple tiny tendrils of the silvery light extend through the borders of the [i]kuch-naa[/i] and out to the ‘window’, keeping the Angels still connected, if in the most tenuous manner, to the world that they have so recently left. Gesturing at it, Luna asks, “Can we get out of this place?” Nameless gestures at the vista and says, “I think so, using the soul energy. But first ….” He jerks his head, as Antaratma and Mual-Tar both begin to move, and then hurriedly says, “Now we do this as we planned—as a team.” Six, as usual the quickest to act, thinks of using his wand. What is not usual, however, is the next occurrence. As soon as the warforged conceives of the action, the silver energy surrounding him pulses, a tiny fragment of it dissipating while all of the Angels are promptly [i]haste[/i]d. Not only does Six’s wand remain unused, but the action occurs instantaneously, far quicker than using the magic item is. Availing of the opportunity, Six swiftly readies his spiked chain to attack, while saying, “That was [i]not[/i] the wand. I think the silver light let me do it … by thinking of it.” If any more confirmation was needed of the Angels’ changed circumstances, even before he completes the words, his companions hear them inside their heads. “So the energy lets us do … whatever we wish to?” asks Korm, the question again communicated instantly to his companions. “Probably not [i]anything[/i] we could wish,” replies Nameless cautiously. “Try drawing on it as Six did, to replicate spells we know of. And then we can try more.” “Good! Anything which lets me blow those two up,” says Luna, the mental communication occurring in the druid’s characteristic growl, “and go home works for me! I’ve had it with them!” “Me too!” agrees Gareth. The paladin concentrates on the energy around him, trying to replicate an [i]enervation[/i] effect. As with Six, there is a pulse, but—whether due to Gareth’s connection to the Silver Flame or through pure happenstance—this time it is dramatically stronger. What shoots from the paladin’s outstretched gauntlet is not only a spell that would normally be beyond his capabilities but one functioning at a level beyond what even Nameless could have achieved on Khorvaire. The [i]empowered energy drain[/i] shoots forward, seemingly covering far more distance than it normally should, and strikes Antaratma squarely. Unfortunately, this is to no avail, since the daelkyr lord is immune to such effects, as the smile on his face indicates. Antaratma’s expression changes rapidly as the paladin switches tack. More than the others, Gareth feels a strong connection to the energy surrounding them, sensing it dramatically enhancing the abilities which the Silver Flame had granted him. Now he calls on one of these, a rarely used skill provided via his training as an exorcist. On Khorvaire, the paladin’s action would have been intended to purge the souls from a possessed individual. Here, with Gareth brimming over with the power of the Flame, it has a dramatically different effect. Streams of silver light fountain out from Antaratma’s body and the daelkyr lord convulses in agony. “Nice one, Gareth!” shouts Luna, transforming into a giant elemental as she speaks, the action far swifter than it has ever been for her. The druid raises a flaming arm, causing a [i]maximized polar ray[/i]—its crackling cold contrasting oddly with the fiery limb it emanates from—to shoot out. The ray successfully strikes Antaratma, further wounding and freezing the daelkyr lord, thanks to the diminishment of his normal resistances by Gareth’s timely attack. Emitting a triumphant chuckle, the druid swiftly follows with a [i]greater dispel magic[/i] that suppresses the daelkyr lord’s [i]ring of three wishes[/i]. “My turn!” Seeing the cloud of silver motes that left Antaratma’s body still floating nearby, Korm attempts something different, trying to suck them in. Comprehending and clearly concerned at the possibility, the wounded daelkyr lord hurriedly ripostes mentally. A tentacle of silver light shoots from each of them at the cloud, meeting and slashing violently. After an instant of abortive struggle, the Gatekeeper growls his disappointment and gives up. Instead, hefting his meteoric blade, he shoots forward. Korm is only trying to get closer to Antaratma, since the daelkyr lord appears to be a couple hundred feet away from him, but as he moves what seems to be a dozen feet from his position, he disappears—and reappears instantly next to his target. Not bothering to question the situation, the Gatekeeper shouts an inarticulate battle-cry and brings the sword down. Still suffering from reduced defenses thanks to Gareth’s attack, Antaratma shrieks in agony, his entire torso laid open. Where bones and organs would be visible on a human being, the Angels see only malformed lumps of purplish-green flesh, from which more silver motes stream. Unfortunately, the wounded daelkyr lord is not the only enemy present. While he staggers and attempts to mount a defense, there is a tremendous roar. Mual-Tar rushes forward. Like Korm, the Chaos Serpent initially appears to be far from its targets, but it is instantly on top of the Guardian Angels. Not even bothering to use its giant maw, Mual-Tar simply smashes through the Angels, bowling them out of its way. On Khorvaire, the impact would have left most of them crippled. Here, they are mostly just badly bruised. More troubling is the time it gives Antaratma, who promptly uses the soul-energy to activate a [i]mass heal[/i] on himself, closing most—though not all—of his wounds. Rejuvenated, he follows with a [i]chained dispel magic[/i] attempting to strip their protections from the Angels. Nameless’ [i]greater counterspelling[/i] ring flares to life immediately, the alienist hurriedly feeding in additional soul-energy to enable it to absorb the spell. With a frustrated snarl, Antaratma locks eyes with Nameless, ignoring the smack of Six’s chain, which appears to have shot out two hundred feet before it strikes him. The alienist feels an incredible pressure on his body*, attempting to crush and morph him into a helpless form, but—after a tremendous effort—he fights off the attack. As Antaratma floats backwards, preparing for another attack, Korm too recoils, once more disappearing and reappearing closer to his allies. “What’s with the weird distance thing?” he asks, readying his sword. “Distance doesn’t actually exist here,” says Nameless, before smiling slyly. “Nor time, for that matter.” Seemingly without moving or taking any action, the alienist is suddenly right beside Antaratma. Something flickers in the darkness and time simply stops for everyone besides the two of them, making the other Angels and Mual-Tar appear to be frozen in place. “My friend...,” Nameless begins, before cocking his head to one side and pausing for a moment. “Actually, you are in a real sense, my oldest friend. You were there when I was ‘born’ and at least a fragment of you will be there when I die.” “And this,” Nameless looks around, an oddly beatific smile on his face, “this is beyond ... words, beyond what even one such as I could imagine or comprehend. Xoriat ... is even more glorious than my experience could ever have prepared me for and I see now that you can offer this to me in ways I can only dimly comprehend. So, finally, I’m willing to throw in with you and lend my strength to you against my ‘compatriots’.” The alienist sneers, glancing at the other Angels. “But there is one thing, just one thing that I need from you first.” Suddenly, from nowhere, Nameless whips out a sheet of paper on a board with a stylus. “I need you to fill out this survey.” Antaratma has dealt with the Angels multiple times, facing their inherent chaos, which has sometimes baffled even such an incomprehensible entity as a daelkyr lord, but he has steadily grown more prepared for their odd actions. However, this non-sequitur is too much for even him. A look of stunned incomprehension flashes across the perfect features. Reflexively, almost of its own volition, his hand reaches out for the survey. And then, just as his fingers close, there is something else in Nameless’ grasp, the alienist having moved so quickly that it isn’t even a motion.** Antaratma’s hand closes on an enormous gem, one lovingly and oh-so-carefully prepared by Nameless during long nights in Khorvaire .... with the dweomer [i]trap the soul[/i]. A look of belated realization appears on Antaratma’s visage and he opens his mouth, but before he can speak a word, his form turns misty and is sucked into the gem. “YES!” Nameless holds aloft the gem and shouts loudly, “I alone have done that which was last done millennia ago, requiring all of the Gatekeepers combined! I have bound a DAELKYR LORD!” The alienist peers into the gem, as if he might be able to see the prisoner within. “What do you think of that … Auntie?” The space around him shimmers again, the incredible power which had temporarily frozen time now ending. Which is instantly accompanied by a loud splitting sound. Nameless glares at the crack which runs across the gem in his hand, the powerful magical enhancements which lace it providing little protection as the deleterious influence of the [i]kuch-naa[/i] now reasserts itself. A faint mist begins to seep out of the crack. “Ah, bugger!” With time reasserting itself, Mual-Tar once more flows inexorably forward. Attempting to slow it, Six disappears and reappears, over and over, so quickly that it seems there are half a dozen warforged present, circling and slashing at the moving Worm with his chain. An instant later, Luna unleashes a [i]meteor swarm[/i]. The fiery explosions smash into the onrushing behemoth, only a second ahead of Korm, who hurtles in with blade swinging, carving a slash twice as long as his body into its flesh. Gareth, meanwhile, attempts to purge the soul-energy from the Chaos Serpent as he did from Antaratma moments ago. He is again successful, but the streams of silver light seem inconsequential in comparison to the huge amount of soul-energy limning the gigantic Worm’s form. Similarly, though the attacks of the other Angels leave their marks on Mual-Tar’s body, it appears only marginally hurt. Not slowing down, their gigantic foe smashes into the Guardian Angels one more time, hurling them about the strange battlefield. Nameless is almost critically wounded by this second assault, the magical gem tumbling from his hand as he floats in mid-air. “Hang on!” Luna shouts, swiftly using soul-energy to [i]heal[/i] the alienist. “Anyone got any suggestions?” “I could,” says Korm, “just let the damn thing eat me and try to cut it open from the inside. That may distract it and give the rest of you a chance to take it down. Until I die, that is.” The Gatekeeper readies himself to charge, his expression far less dour than should be the case for someone planning to use suicide as a tactical option. “NO!” Four voices ring out simultaneously, the other Angels hurriedly explaining at once—with unusual unison of purpose—that they need to work together and concentrate their abilities to win this. “And,” Nameless concludes, “I have another option.” He speaks a single word—and Khat’van’ga appears. For those who have not experienced the things that the Angels have, the Horror is a terrifying sight at the best of times. Now, in the very heart of the plane of which it is born, Khat’van’ga’s shape defies description, an amorphous amalgamation of tentacles, claws, eyes and elements for which no mortal tongue has words. Khat’van’ga’s central mass now stretches fully a hundred feet, its tentacles more than doubling this length. Despite its increased size, Khat’van’ga is still far less than half the length and bulk of the Chaos Serpent, but it does not hesitate, flowing forward to attach itself to Mual-Tar’s size. Tentacles, claws, suckers and fangs rip into the Worm’s hide, ripping away its flesh and sending streams of silver energy flowing out. Mual-Tar flagellates in evident agony and then spins around, trying to bite at Khat’van’ga and wrap a coil around the smaller creature. As the two titans attack each other, a soft susurrus permeates the area, a sibilant and wordless whisper that smacks of fascinated appreciation. The source—or sources—of the sound are a variety of shapes that have silently appeared out of the layers of Xoriat over the last few seconds. They are a variety of large shapes, all situated just outside the limits of the [i]kuch-naa[/i], some hovering in place while others float back and forth. All of them are a combination of translucence and transparence, and do not seem aware of—or at least not responding to—each other’s presence, some of them actually flowing through each other as they move. Nameless smiles as he spots one of the largest of them, a gigantic eye that floats in space, a nest of tentacles moving idly beneath the unblinking orb. [i]Cyaëgha![/i] “They are the Great Old Ones,” he says quickly. “Don’t worry—they’re not actually here. They must have been attracted by our presence here and come to see,” a note of pride is evident in his voice, “what could trespass where even they cannot go.” “Great!” Korm grunts, “Even our peanut gallery is amazing!” “Look,” Six’s pragmatic voice cuts in, “he’s back!” As the warforged warns, the cloud of mist that has been seeping out of the abandoned gem has now reformed into a slightly confused and utterly enraged-looking Antaratma. The daelkyr lord throws one quick glance around the changed battlefield and hurriedly unleashes a blast of soul-energy. The motes transform into razor-sharp shards of diamond which rip into the Angels, further wounding them. Antaratma smiles triumphantly and raises a hand. “And now, I [i]wish[/i]…” Luna emits a loud chuckle. “No, you [i]don’t![/i]!” Expressions of surprise and outrage, followed instantly by shock and horror, flash across the daelkyr lord’s face as he look at his hand—and the ring on it. What Antaratma has, fatally, forgotten is that while time may have appeared to pass for him within Nameless’ magical gem, he was held in stasis, as was everything and every effect on him. His wounds still remain—as does the effect of Luna’s previous [i]dispel[/i]ling of his ring. Before Antaratma can recover from his error, Six’s chain smashes squarely into his left eye, propelled unerringly thanks to a swift, soul-energy-fuelled [i]true strike[/i]. The daelkyr lord screams in pain and fury, reaching up toward his face, but before he can touch it, Korm is once more upon him, crossing space and time within an instant. Antaratma dodges backwards but the Gatekeeper stays on him, their actions causing the pair to flash in and out of existence around the blank sphere, appearing here and there, but always right next to each other. Ignoring the odd sensation of seeing his allies and the battling titans appear and disappear constantly, Korm focuses on the target before him and brings the meteoric blade down. The silver motes limning its blade flash as it falls, neatly severing first the tentacle-whip attached to Antaratma and then the arm beneath it. Streams of silver spray from the wound as the daelkyr lord howls, still trying vainly to backpedal from the Gatekeeper, but there is no respite for him. A [i]bombardment[/i] from Luna smashes him off his feet, causing him to momentarily pinwheel in the gravity-less void and, before he can recover, two beams of light touch him. One, glowing brightly of mingled argent and azure, is a [i]maximized bolt of glory[/i] from Gareth, while the other, dark green shot through with streaks of purple, is an [i]empowered maximized disintegrate[/i] from Nameless. Antaratma explodes, all which is left of his form being a cloud of silver motes which float where he had so recently been. Another loud susurrus of excitement accompanies his passing from the watching Great Old Ones, perhaps the only creatures in existence which had seen a daelkyr lord die before this moment. The Guardian Angels do not, however, have time to relish the victory. Turning their attention back to Mual-Tar and Khat’van’ga, they find that the battle has inevitably turned against the latter. The Chaos Worm has managed to grab the smaller creature in its coils and now it squeezes, slowly crushing the Horror. Nevertheless, Khat’van’ga fights on, adding to the significant wounds that it already has inflicted. Using the opportunity created by the Horror, the Angels strike hurriedly, spells and weapons ripping into Mual-Tar. The soul energy connecting all the combatants evidently allow the attacks to bypass the Worm’s considerable resistance to damage and to magic, allowing them to be dramatically more effective, but Mual-Tar is far from critically wounded. Its gigantic maw opens wide, revealing the myriad rows of huge teeth within, and then snaps shut. Khat’van’ga convulses as fully half of it is bitten off and then goes limp, slowly beginning to fade away.*** Nameless cries out, feeling an odd—and excruciating—sensation within him, as if part of his very being had been ripped away. As he does so, the Worm drops what remains of its late enemy and charges, the huge bulk arrowing straight at him. Mual-Tar ignores the other Angels as they desperately attack, trying to slow it down, its gigantic maw opening once more. The alienist hurriedly retreats, but he is too slow and—with distance being meaningless in the [i]kuch-naa[/i]—far too close. As the others watch in awed horror, the Chaos Serpent’s jaws close around his comparatively tiny form. Or at least they seem to. At the very last moment, there is a pulse of magical energy where Nameless was and the alienist disappears, having folded time in on itself to return to a spot he had occupied seconds ago****. Instead of the Chaos Serpent swallowing him whole, Nameless is only shoved aside by its bulk, which leaves him badly wounded, but at least not forever consumed. “Now!” the alienist shouts as Mual-Tar hesitates for just an instant, having realized that its quarry has escaped. “Hit it with all you have!” As he speaks, Nameless goes through a series of gestures, simultaneously calling on the soul energy and his own dwindling life force. Blood pours out as streaks of flesh rip off his arms, the droplets coalescing as they fall into tiny orbs of energy. With a motion, the alienist sends them shooting forward, morphing as they do so into a large, crackling globe. When it impacts with Mual-Tar’s head, the globe explodes, ravaging the Worm’s flesh with waves of acid, fire, electricity and sonic energy. The result also leaves Nameless critically wounded, but the access to the soul energy allows his companions to swiftly heal him while they follow his lead. Six’s spiked chain impacts the same spot as Nameless’ [i]hellball[/i], powered by a soul energy-fueled [i]limited wish[/i] and ripping free gobbets of weakened flesh. It is followed by a huge comet of flame from Luna, maximized in its effectiveness, which causes the gigantic Worm to shudder. And then Gareth and Korm streak in together, like two smaller comets, the Endless Blade and the meteoric sword held in advance. The Gatekeeper’s sword crackles with necromantic energy, a [i]maximized vampiric touch[/i] healing Korm as he smashes a deep wound in Mual-Tar’s flesh, while the paladin’s weapon erupts in flame as he smites the Worm with all his might. Despite the damage it has suffered, enough to have laid low a battalion of the dragons of Argonnessen and then some, the Chaos Serpent is not yet done. Streaming gore and torrents of silver light from its myriad wounds, Mual-Tar turns for another attack. But Gareth is not done either. Drawing on a rarely used gift from the Flame, the paladin channels the energy of his attack into a boon for his allies and sends a stream of light flowing to Korm. The Gatekeeper feels his movements speed up dramatically for a few moments. Ripping his sword free, he leaps up, twirling in mid-air. And then smashes down with all of his might, pouring as much soul energy as he can into the strike and calling on every last iota of power in his weapon. He hits with an impact so powerful that the sword disappears entirely into his target, Korm momentarily standing buried to both knees and elbows in Mual-Tar’s flesh. Even the greatest craftsmen of the Gatekeepers, painstakingly forging the meteoric blade from the heart of a fallen star, centuries ago in the depths of the Shadow Marches, would not have expected it to avail against such a foe as Mual-Tar. Certainly, on Eberron it would have had only limited utility against the Worm. But ironically, in the heart of the Plane of Madness, with its foe so badly wounded and Korm empowered beyond the mightiest champions of the Gatekeepers, things are different. The meteoric blade explodes. And so does the Chaos Serpent, the hitherto-immortal eater of worlds. If the explosion of Antaratma released a flood of soul energy, then Mual-Tar’s dissolving form sets forth a small ocean, the Angels momentarily unable to even see each other as they are enveloped in silver light. When their vision clears, they stand alone in the [i]kuch-naa[/i]. Even the watching Great Old Ones are utterly silent and almost motionless, as if waiting avidly to see what these fascinating creatures do next. “And that,” says Korm, surprise as strong as satisfaction in his voice, “I believe, is that!” “And none of you got yourselves killed! Yeah!” Luna exults. Smiling from ear to ear, Gareth opens his mouth to say something, then pauses and clicks his fingers, causing the Endless Blade to disappear—along with its loud, triumphant, and expletive-ridden babbling. “So—shall we go home?” Six, never one to make assumptions without information, turns to Nameless. “Can we?” The alienist, smirking victoriously as he gazes at the translucent shape of Cyaëgha, turns his attention to another area outside the [i]kuch-naa[/i]. Nameless gazes for a few seconds at the ‘window’ that looks onto the Mournland, to and from which tiny streams of silver light are flowing. Finally, he speaks, his rasping tone betokening a combination of pride, fascination, and amusement, underlying all of which is something that the others have rarely, if ever, heard from him—contentment. “Possibly. But I shall not be returning with you.” * Quickened [i]polymorph any object[/i]. ** Natural 20 plus Sleight of hand + 28 (Fatespinner class skill) and Moment of insight +20. Poor Aunty never had a chance. *** Mual-Tar auto-kills [i]any[/i] target on a natural 19-20. **** Got a natural 20 vs. Nameless, but he used a Fatespinner ability to cause Mual-Tar to reroll. [/QUOTE]
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