Sepulchrave II
Legend
Tally ho! (And forgive the rambling footnotes).
**
The Big Fight: Part 2
"Have you determined where the leader is?" Eadric asked Nwm. The party were descending towards the ground.
The Druid nodded. "There is a clutch of extraplanars half a mile ahead of us. Some are very powerful, Ed. We might be well advised to retreat."
The Paladin gritted his teeth. They had come a long way, in order to merely run away at the first sign of serious resistance. He glanced briefly at the two solars who flanked him. Surely, nothing could overcome them. They were safe, as long as the celestials were present.
As if in response, something dreadful flickered across Eadric’s perception, and reality darkened for a moment. The celestial to his left, the solar Taruz, communed briefly, and then spoke directly into his mind.
Immeasurable grief. Zhorion destroyed.
Zhorion?
A third solar, conjured by Shomei
Eadric gaped. "Shomei. Is the dragon gone?"
"No," Nwm replied, pointing backwards.
Far behind, but closing rapidly, Crosod’s vast and now-visible form thundered through the air.
Shomei reappeared. "Not good," she said. "He’s too fast. Mostin, if you get a chance, hit him with a disintegrate. You might be luckier than I."
"I have no intention of staying around," Mostin answered. "I’m going to open a gate back to the Prime…"
‘Wait," Eadric interrupted. He gave a quizzical look as he received a sending.
One down, two to go. How many cherubs can the Ahma kill in one day? If you require arbitration, I am available. Titivilus.
"Titivilus just issued a sending to me."
"Screw that," Mostin said. "Are you ready?"
And everything became dark.
**
It was an impenetrable, cloying blackness of an altogether unnatural kind, stagnant and suffocating. Everything seemed to drift listlessly, and sounds were muffled.
The greater dispelling, which then struck the party from an unknown source had a devastating effect. The mind blanks which sat upon Iua, Eadric, Shomei and Nwm evaporated, the glamour upon Ortwin disappeared, and Mostin suddenly found himself vulnerable to death magic. A green ray struck him, anchoring him and then another, targeting Shomei, also found its mark.
"Sh*t," Mostin exclaimed.
"Nwm, do something," Ortwin groaned, "I can’t see anything."
"I see them," Shomei announced. "There are two of them. Eighty yards. Two o’clock to you, Mostin."
The darkness vanished abruptly as Taruz broke the spell which caused it. Mostin gasped as his vision returned and his magical sight rested on its source – a succubus, and a something, which seemed to flicker on the edge of reality. Something which, partially at least, was not.
Mostin’s mind reeled as he tried to absorb the paradox. Ortwin discharged a rapid volley of enervating magical arrows at the succubus, who lurched in the air.
The second solar, Pharanthe, was incanting under his breath, as Eadric turned his head to see a Loquai of unusual beauty flying towards him upon an umbral griffon of prodigious size. He was accompanied by a sinuous winged shadow which flew gracefully through the air – Irknaan and Nhura, no doubt, Eadric mused.
Shomei screamed and desiccated into a wrinkled corpse as the party were overwhelmed by two powerful horrid wiltings. Nightmares and ecalypses perished – through foresight, this time, the group were protected by magical flight. More wards collapsed as another greater dispelling ripped across them all and Ortwin – still fortunately mind blanked – shrugged off a feeblemind spell which would have otherwise utterly overwhelmed him. All around, succubi, palrethees, daemons and demodands were manifesting – and there was another something which was partially non-existent. Drawing Shupthul’s bow, the Paladin shot five arrows which burst into flame, thudding into the flank of the umbral lillend. She reeled in pain.
Mostin swore profusely, quickly erected a wall of force around them all, and opened a gate. "Everybody get through," he screeched. "Nwm, you have to get this damned anchor off of me!"
The Druid glanced briefly at Shomei’s body, and nodded. She could wait – they needed to get out of there, and quickly. "Get the rod and bracelet," he instructed Sem and Gheim. He quickly incanted a greater dispelling upon Mostin, but the dimensional anchor remained firmly in place.
Mostin swore. "Go!" He commanded. Nwm and Iua dashed through the gate, followed by the two eagles.
Inside of the protected area, another gate opened, conjured by the solar Pharanthe. A third solar stepped through. Mostin screamed again.
The wall of force shuddered briefly as a magical assault was absorbed, and several demons teleported within its confines. Mostin raised an eyebrow as the barrier quickly dissipated when a subsequent disintegrate struck it. It was followed by a violated storm of sound which tore at the flesh of those present, and another disintegrate, which reduced Ortwin to his component atoms.
Iua screamed.
From within her protective void, Soneillon hissed. Lehurze was going too far. She would have strong words with her after this. If she had killed the Ahma by accident…*
Taruz shot a barrage of fey slaying arrows at Irknaan, who was closing rapidly on their position. Several found their mark, but the Sidhe-King shook off their death magic, used a limited wish to shut the gate and pronounced a quick dismissal.
Two of the solars abruptly vanished.
Nhura’s will rested upon Eadric and Mostin in succession, attempting to immobilize them both, but failing to effect either. Palrethees hewed at both the Paladin and the Alienist as Mostin squawked at Eadric.
"Sh*t. Get close."
Shooting yet more darts at the Loquai king, Eadric moved towards Mostin, who shook his head, plane shifted Eadric, and invoked a prismatic sphere, encapsulating himself.
The protective bubble, scintillating with colour and power, hung motionless in the skies of Afqithan, thirty feet above the umbral canopy of its dense forest.
The remaining solar, Taruz, beset by demons, and upon the escape of Eadric, promptly vanished.
"Great." Mostin said.
Through the shifting colours of the sphere, demons could be seen moving outside. The wizard sighed, and wondered whether if, jointly, his enemies had the wherewithal to penetrate his defenses.
**
The gate opened in the courtyard of Kyrtill’s Burh, at the base of the ivy-covered Steeple. Iua was shaking.
Nwm turned back to the portal, to see if anything else was coming through, but it abruptly dissolved.
"Ortwin…" Iua began.
"Will be fine," Nwm said. "He is merely experiencing a temporary disembodiment."
"When can you…"
"Tomorrow," Nwm answered. He scowled – around them, the devas appointed to guard the castle were gently alighting and manifesting. Their swords, rippling with flames, were already drawn.
"This is holy ground," one of them declared. "You should not be here."
Iua closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, and then breathed deeply for several seconds.
"Do not piss me off," she said.
*
Eadric appeared beneath an ancient beech-tree, the branches of which hung over a small stream which chattered over smooth pebbles. Around him, a forest, with its late summer colours enhanced by the dusk, was visible in all directions. He hardly felt as if he had moved.
The Paladin wondered where he was. Somewhere in Wyre, presumably. Hopefully.
He briefly contemplated the likely inaccuracy of Mostin’s plane shift, and decided that, wherever he was, Nwm would find him before he himself could do anything positive about finding Nwm.
Eadric set down his shield, removed his arms, took off his helm, and, laying his sword across his knees, meditated.
*
Irknaan glowered in disgust as he flew his griffon around the prismatic sphere before descending to the forest floor. Several summoned fiends were vanishing back to their respective glooms, although the compactees – of whom there were nearly a score – remained hovering in the skies nearby.
Soneillon approached, and assumed a stable form. Nhura eyed her suspiciously.
"Can you penetrate it?" Irknaan asked.
"Not without more preparation," the Demoness answered.
The king of the Loquai briefly considered his cloak – it might offer sufficient protection to enter. There again, it might not. And Irknaan was too old and cautious to test its powers to that extent.
"Then we have an impasse," Irknaan observed. "The dimensional anchor will fail before the sphere does. Who do you suppose the kelvezu is?"
"Either Mostin the Metagnostic or Shomei the Infernal," Soneillon answered. "I presume the former – I suspect that Shomei is dead."
"And the Weapon?"
"It would seem that the Weapon has eluded us," Soneillon remarked drily. Two of the palrethees approached with armfuls of items garnered from the treetops and forest floor – Ortwin’s cloak, scimitar, bow and leather jerkin; and Shomei’s pack, which contained a variety of fabulous items. Nhura inspected them, and drew the scimitar from its scabbard.
"This is Githla," she said. "The Azer Jodrumu forged it. It has a long history."
"Even all of these items do not suffice as a weregild for Shupthul and the others," Irknaan snapped.
"There is also a half-sidhe, strapped to a dead nightmare," the Palrethee reported. "She still lives."
Koilimilou, Irknaan smiled to himself.
"The celestials almost succeeded in a cascade**," Nhura remarked. "More than three would have been a problem. This must not be allowed to happen again. Why is the Ahma in Afqithan, and why is my spouse and King consorting with Soneillon?" Nhura’s quick mind and knowledge of obscure lore was rapidly piecing things together.
"It is a complex matter," Soneillon purred.
"Then explain it, demoness," Nhura hissed.
"The Ahma is in Afqithan in order to vex Graz’zt. He perceives Irknaan as a loyal subject of the Prince. He may be beginning to understand that things are somewhat more convoluted than that."
Nhura’s eyes quickly scanned all of those present as she spoke again. In her peripheral vision, the shadow of the wyrm was moving rapidly. Her mind raced, and she elected to take an enormous risk.
"Lady Soneillon, you would find me more tractable than my husband," the Lillend said.
"Silence, bitch!" Irknaan screeched, as the full weight of his Will descended upon Nhura. Blood began to pour from her mouth, nostrils and ears, and the flesh began to peel from her.
Perceiving the truth of Nhura’s words, and without hesitation, Soneillon spoke two dreadful words which echoed across Afqithan. The outer shell of the prismatic sphere quivered in sympathetic vibration, as the magical lattice of the demiplane was stretched closer to its dilational limit.
Irknaan wailed as his cloak’s wards failed him. He burned rapidly into a black vapour, which was carried away on a frigid wind.
The Demoness bent down, slowly picked up the dark mantle, threw it over Nhura, and fastened its clasp about her neck.
"What will you do now, your Majesty?" Soneillon asked, half-amused.
"I think I will take a hunt to the Prime," Nhura replied.
"For what purpose?" Soneillon asked.
"If you have concerns that the Ahma might be dead," Nhura said, "you should put them aside. The sidhe who was disintegrated was not him – the sword of Eadric of Deorham is Lukarn, not Githla. I can deliver him to you. Demons are forbidden by the Interdict, but the Loquai are not. And neither is he," she pointed.
Crosod circled suspiciously at a distance of a thousand yards.
*
Mostin fidgeted uncomfortably within the prismatic sphere, unaware of the events which transpired beyond the rainbow which surrounded him. Apparently, his enemies lacked a disjunction or the correct combination of spells to bring the ward down.
After forty minutes, the dimensional anchor which had barred his own passage from Afqithan failed. Mostin smiled ironically. He lacked sufficient remaining power to safely exit the demiplane. Gingerly, the Alienist thrust his head through the prismatic sphere before quickly retreating it back inside.
Demons. Lots of demons. Most were succubi, but some were very big, and dangerous. There were also a Shator, and two Nycadaemons. And a huge dragon.
Mostin swallowed. The sphere would last six more hours. Nearly two days in Prime Material reckoning. He wondered nervously if his friends could organize a rescue in that time.
He fidgeted again. Not good. Not good.
The Alienist briefly considered using his Mirror to escape, but the thought of leaving it in Afqithan while he fled was too painful.
He gritted his teeth, hasted himself again, floated through the sphere, and teleported to a location one thousand miles to the west, where he appeared in a dark and very remote corner of the shadowy realm.
Mostin’s heart pounded in his chest, and his eyes flitted around as he waited to see if a sensor would follow him.
He uttered a profanity. There it was. He had to go. There was no other way, or they would be on to him.
Space buckled around him, as Mostin invoked a reality maelstrom and was sucked through into another dimension.
It didn’t matter which one, he idly considered, as long as it wasn’t Afqithan.
*
Iua paced ceaselessly near Nwm’s glade, as the Druid, who had resumed a form similar to his natural one, sat in silent reverie with the Green.
He was infuriating in the level of nonchalance that he was exhibiting.
"Get some sleep. Eat something." He had instructed. "There is nothing that I can do until dawn."
Dawn was ten hours away. Iua had scowled, and resumed her pacing. The sun set, the moon rose, midnight passed her by, and in the small hours of the morning, the duelist was gripped by terrible fear.
Nwm remained sitting. Erect, composed, and absurdly serene – as mice scurried over him and investigated his beard and hair.
As the first rays of the sun struck him, he mumbled for ten seconds, smiled and stood up.
"Well?" Iua asked.
"Eadric is in the forest of Nizkur. Mostin is southeast of here, over the ocean." Nwm seemed somewhat surprised by his own words.
Iua gave a hopeful smile.
"Alright," he sighed. He wondered if she would ever understand how much it would cost him.
Ortwin returned as a satyr – although not the same satyr. His hair was ruddier, and he seemed wilder and more unkempt. His grin was unmistakable, however.
"How was death?" Nwm asked.
"The same as last time," Ortwin said easily. "Do you have a mirror?"
"Your weapons and equipment are lost," Nwm remarked. "I think that you’d better try and adjust."
Ortwin opened his mouth in horror.
*
When Shomei awoke, she screamed uncontrollably. Her form – although human and female – was unfamiliar. Nwm waited until the episode had passed before he spoke to her.
"I take it that death was an unpleasant experience?" The Druid asked.
She said nothing, but her face conveyed pain and trauma. She spent a moment inspecting the structure of her mind, noting the disposition of her higher valences.
"Nwm…" She began.
"You owe me," he said.***
She nodded.
From under his cloak, the Druid produced her rod and bracelet.
"You really owe me," he added.
Ortwin scowled. "I should have died first. Your birds might have grabbed my cloak and Githla. What happens now?"
"We find Ed and Mostin," Nwm replied. "I know where they are. We simply have to retrieve them." The Druid turned to Shomei. "Can you get them here?" He asked.
"Not yet," she answered. "I have a duplicate set of books at my home. I need to consult them. But I’m sure that Mostin is quite safe. He is very inventive."
Nwm looked dubious.
**
Mostin found himself in a churning whirlpool as the reality maelstrom deposited him in the Plane of Elemental Water. He groped around blindly for a moment, flapped his arms in an attempt to escape the vortex, and eventually retrieved an Ioun stone from his belt and set it spinning around his head.
His look of smug satisfaction was replaced by one of horror, as he glanced over his shoulder to observe three succubi, who had followed him through the maelstrom.
These demons are crazy, Mostin thought. Wearily, he disintegrated one of the demonesses and struck another with his last sonic orb – the latter spell was wholly unimpressive after the spectacular magical effects which Afqithan had bestowed.
Both remaining succubi attempted to charm him, and although he shrugged off their efforts, Mostin swallowed nervously. It was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.
The Alienist observed in fascination, as the reality maelstrom continued to suck random matter from Afqithan into the water around him: branches, stones and dirt drifted by.
Another succubus rode through the planar rift and appeared ten yards away. It was the one who had disintegrated his previous wall of force.
Mostin cursed. He summoned three pseudomarids and instructed two of them to attack his assailants. The third, he ordered to plane shift him back to the Prime.
Lehurze spoke, and the waters seemed to warp as a power word, stun overcame Mostin, rendering him insensible. The demoness activated her cubic gate, and Mostin’s eyes widened in terror as a portal to Afqithan appeared. The two other succubi closed and attempted to grapple with him as he floated impotently, whilst the summoned pseudoelementals struck at the demonesses.
Abruptly, the scene changed as the Alienist, together with the third pseudonatural genie, plane shifted. Half of the world seemed to become salt water above him, and half of it was air below him. Mostin bobbed upside-down in the water, stricken, at the interface of the two realms.
A minute passed, and the effects of Lehurze’s powerful attack subsided. Gingerly, Mostin arose from out of the water and hovered above it. He dried himself with a prestidigitation and glanced around.
The ocean extended as far as he could see, in every direction.
Mostin quickly calculated the time differential between Afqithan and the Material Plane, and knew that it should be night-time in Wyre. He looked at the sun. It was mid morning. Apparently, he was over the Eastern Ocean, and Wyre was at least five thousand miles away.
Mostin sighed, and began to fly west.
*
Eadric was drawn from his trance abruptly as a mote of light dashed across his field of vision. He glanced up, to notice the waxing moon riding high in the sky above him.
He scowled, and calling upon the Eye of Palamabron which hung around his neck, his vision penetrated the shadows which lay about. Nearly a hundred grigs, pixies, buckawns, sprites and other diminutive feys – either of obscure or unique type – were arranged in a wide circle around him. They watched him suspiciously.
Eadric smiled. He was, of course, a sidhe – at least to casual inspection. His observers seemed nervous of that fact: to say that the coolest and most civilized of feys were infrequent visitors to the World of Men would have been a laughable understatement.
The Paladin cleared his throat, and called out. "I am no sidhe," he assured them. "I am a mortal. My name is Eadric of Deorham."
For several seconds, there was no response. Then a shrill voice piped forth. "Naheen nehaar eleel chellaath?"
"I regret that I cannot understand you," Eadric admitted.
Noisy chattering followed for several minutes. Finally, a fat and singularly pompous-looking pixie fluttered forwards, attended by numerous moths of large size. When he spoke, his words ran together in an almost unintelligible stream, which Eadric found difficulty in understanding.
"Itismostimpolitetoappearthuswithoutinvitation, andsitbeneaththetreewhichiscalledNadholuridin."
"Should I have chosen another tree?" Eadric asked wrily.
"Youaremostrude! Nowyouinsultuswithsarcasticcomments. Weshouldmakeyoudanceuntilyoudropdeadfromexhaustion! Youarefortunatethatanotherhasintervenedonyourbehalf, oryouwouldfeelourroyalwrathdescenduponyou! Mostgraciousandkindandrespectfulhewas, andthereforewearepreparedtobelenient. ButbeforeyouleaveyouwillapologizetoNadholuridin, fortheimpositionthatyouhavesubjectedherto!"
Eadric scowled, and wondered who had ‘intervenedonhisbehalf.’
The pixie raised his arm, and from somewhere behind him a tiny trumpet, more akin to a whistle than any other instrument, sounded forth.
A lone figure walked towards him from beneath the trees. His hair and beard were shaggy, and he wore a simple grey smock, drawn in loosely around his waist by a thin hemp rope.
Eadric gaped, and pressed his forehead to the earth.
Tramst, the Sela, touched him lightly on the shoulder, and the glamour which still sat upon the Paladin, hiding his true form, dissolved.
"And how are things with you, Eadric?" Tramst asked, smiling.
The Ahma, experiencing an upwelling of confusion, grief, and a sense of profound failure - mixed in unlikely measure with a feeling of complete safety in the presence of Oronthon’s proxy - wept cathartically.
NOTES
*It seemed a reasonable tactic to use hit-point attrition – Eadric would probably be the last person standing, and the mages would get taken out first. Lehurze was still geased by Irknaan, and wasn’t operating to Soneillon’s complete satisfaction.
**A cascade occurs when a wizard or cleric gates a solar to a plane (usually the Prime), and it, in turn, opens more gates. The new arrivals open further gates etc. An uninterrupted cascade can be very quick and effective – there were more than three hundred celestials present at Khu within a minute of the initial gate. Half were Solars and Planetars.
‘Cascade’ is a technical term used by arcanists – most of whom view celestial descents as unwanted extraplanar meddling, in stark contrast to the ‘wondrous miracle’ that the pious experience.
***Nwm used a true reincarnation on both Ortwin and Shomei – there was no level loss associated with their deaths. Note that with the 9th level spell I simply allow the caster to choose the form that the new incarnation takes – fortunately, Nwm’s player, Dave, is not prone to exploiting this power.
The spell spoken by Soneillon was Be Not!, an Epic Spell of her own contrivance:
Be Not!
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 36
Components: V
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 300 feet
Target: One living creature
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Fortitude partial
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: Seeds: slay (DC 25); destroy (DC 29). Factors: decrease casting time to 1 action (+20 DC); increase spell’s save DC by +20 (+40 DC); no somatic component (+2 DC); gain +20 bonus on caster level check to overcome target’s spell resistance (+40 DC). Mitigating factor: burn 10000 xp (-100 DC), 20d6 backlash (-20 DC).
The caster utters a single, terrible phrase, destroying the target utterly and removing all traces of it from existence unless it succeeds at a fortitude saving throw (DC 40 + relevant ability modifier.) If the target saving throw succeeds or it has more than 80 levels / hit dice, then it instead sustains 13d6 +20 points of damage. Note that even if the save is successful but the target is reduced to –10 or fewer hit points, its existence is similarly erased.
Other Notes:
1. It’s worth mentioning that I knew that the party was heavily outmatched, and they should have guessed as much. They ought to have fled immediately, but they dithered.
2. I ruled that although Mostin was dimensionally anchored he could still cast spells which allowed interplanar travel – he simply couldn’t travel that way himself.
3. The idea to use summoned creatures to plane shift came a little late for Mostin. He would have saved himself grief if he’d thought of it earlier. Hats off for inventiveness, though.
4. Soneillon’s spell Be Not! is an example of exactly why she is so dangerous – and why Graz’zt fears her so much. Chthonic demons pay no XP cost for spells which normally require it – in Mostin’s terms, her ‘reservoir is limitless’. The 10,000XP burn becomes a standard mitigating factor. C.f.
Shattersoul
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 38
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 300 ft.
Target: One creature
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Fortitude negates
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: Seeds: Transform (DC 21), Transport (DC 27), Ward (DC 14). Factors: transform into inanimate object (+10 DC); transform into seven components (ad hoc +30 DC); transport to extraplanar location (+2 DC); decrease casting time to 1 action (+20 DC); protect against discern location (+14 DC); increase saving throw DC by +10 (+20 DC). Mitigating Factors: burn 10,000 XP (-100 DC); 20d6 backlash (-20 DC).
Shattersoul instantly transforms a single creature into seven identical stone spheres of diminutive size unless it succeeds at a Fortitude saving throw (DC 30+ relevant modifier). The spheres are approximately six inches in diameter.
Each stone is sent to a random planar destination, where it remains until recovered. Only upon recovery of all of the stones is any kind of restoration possible for the victim of a shattersoul spell. A wish or miracle, or an appropriate epic spell which uses the transform seed may then be used to restore the target of the shattersoul.
All of the seven spheres are protected by a ward which renders them impervious to efforts to discover their whereabouts by means of the discern location spell. Epic spells which use the reveal seed must succeed at an opposed caster level check in order to determine the location of each of the stone spheres.
Shattersoul bends the rules close to breaking point but, hey, I'm the DM
**
The Big Fight: Part 2
"Have you determined where the leader is?" Eadric asked Nwm. The party were descending towards the ground.
The Druid nodded. "There is a clutch of extraplanars half a mile ahead of us. Some are very powerful, Ed. We might be well advised to retreat."
The Paladin gritted his teeth. They had come a long way, in order to merely run away at the first sign of serious resistance. He glanced briefly at the two solars who flanked him. Surely, nothing could overcome them. They were safe, as long as the celestials were present.
As if in response, something dreadful flickered across Eadric’s perception, and reality darkened for a moment. The celestial to his left, the solar Taruz, communed briefly, and then spoke directly into his mind.
Immeasurable grief. Zhorion destroyed.
Zhorion?
A third solar, conjured by Shomei
Eadric gaped. "Shomei. Is the dragon gone?"
"No," Nwm replied, pointing backwards.
Far behind, but closing rapidly, Crosod’s vast and now-visible form thundered through the air.
Shomei reappeared. "Not good," she said. "He’s too fast. Mostin, if you get a chance, hit him with a disintegrate. You might be luckier than I."
"I have no intention of staying around," Mostin answered. "I’m going to open a gate back to the Prime…"
‘Wait," Eadric interrupted. He gave a quizzical look as he received a sending.
One down, two to go. How many cherubs can the Ahma kill in one day? If you require arbitration, I am available. Titivilus.
"Titivilus just issued a sending to me."
"Screw that," Mostin said. "Are you ready?"
And everything became dark.
**
It was an impenetrable, cloying blackness of an altogether unnatural kind, stagnant and suffocating. Everything seemed to drift listlessly, and sounds were muffled.
The greater dispelling, which then struck the party from an unknown source had a devastating effect. The mind blanks which sat upon Iua, Eadric, Shomei and Nwm evaporated, the glamour upon Ortwin disappeared, and Mostin suddenly found himself vulnerable to death magic. A green ray struck him, anchoring him and then another, targeting Shomei, also found its mark.
"Sh*t," Mostin exclaimed.
"Nwm, do something," Ortwin groaned, "I can’t see anything."
"I see them," Shomei announced. "There are two of them. Eighty yards. Two o’clock to you, Mostin."
The darkness vanished abruptly as Taruz broke the spell which caused it. Mostin gasped as his vision returned and his magical sight rested on its source – a succubus, and a something, which seemed to flicker on the edge of reality. Something which, partially at least, was not.
Mostin’s mind reeled as he tried to absorb the paradox. Ortwin discharged a rapid volley of enervating magical arrows at the succubus, who lurched in the air.
The second solar, Pharanthe, was incanting under his breath, as Eadric turned his head to see a Loquai of unusual beauty flying towards him upon an umbral griffon of prodigious size. He was accompanied by a sinuous winged shadow which flew gracefully through the air – Irknaan and Nhura, no doubt, Eadric mused.
Shomei screamed and desiccated into a wrinkled corpse as the party were overwhelmed by two powerful horrid wiltings. Nightmares and ecalypses perished – through foresight, this time, the group were protected by magical flight. More wards collapsed as another greater dispelling ripped across them all and Ortwin – still fortunately mind blanked – shrugged off a feeblemind spell which would have otherwise utterly overwhelmed him. All around, succubi, palrethees, daemons and demodands were manifesting – and there was another something which was partially non-existent. Drawing Shupthul’s bow, the Paladin shot five arrows which burst into flame, thudding into the flank of the umbral lillend. She reeled in pain.
Mostin swore profusely, quickly erected a wall of force around them all, and opened a gate. "Everybody get through," he screeched. "Nwm, you have to get this damned anchor off of me!"
The Druid glanced briefly at Shomei’s body, and nodded. She could wait – they needed to get out of there, and quickly. "Get the rod and bracelet," he instructed Sem and Gheim. He quickly incanted a greater dispelling upon Mostin, but the dimensional anchor remained firmly in place.
Mostin swore. "Go!" He commanded. Nwm and Iua dashed through the gate, followed by the two eagles.
Inside of the protected area, another gate opened, conjured by the solar Pharanthe. A third solar stepped through. Mostin screamed again.
The wall of force shuddered briefly as a magical assault was absorbed, and several demons teleported within its confines. Mostin raised an eyebrow as the barrier quickly dissipated when a subsequent disintegrate struck it. It was followed by a violated storm of sound which tore at the flesh of those present, and another disintegrate, which reduced Ortwin to his component atoms.
Iua screamed.
From within her protective void, Soneillon hissed. Lehurze was going too far. She would have strong words with her after this. If she had killed the Ahma by accident…*
Taruz shot a barrage of fey slaying arrows at Irknaan, who was closing rapidly on their position. Several found their mark, but the Sidhe-King shook off their death magic, used a limited wish to shut the gate and pronounced a quick dismissal.
Two of the solars abruptly vanished.
Nhura’s will rested upon Eadric and Mostin in succession, attempting to immobilize them both, but failing to effect either. Palrethees hewed at both the Paladin and the Alienist as Mostin squawked at Eadric.
"Sh*t. Get close."
Shooting yet more darts at the Loquai king, Eadric moved towards Mostin, who shook his head, plane shifted Eadric, and invoked a prismatic sphere, encapsulating himself.
The protective bubble, scintillating with colour and power, hung motionless in the skies of Afqithan, thirty feet above the umbral canopy of its dense forest.
The remaining solar, Taruz, beset by demons, and upon the escape of Eadric, promptly vanished.
"Great." Mostin said.
Through the shifting colours of the sphere, demons could be seen moving outside. The wizard sighed, and wondered whether if, jointly, his enemies had the wherewithal to penetrate his defenses.
**
The gate opened in the courtyard of Kyrtill’s Burh, at the base of the ivy-covered Steeple. Iua was shaking.
Nwm turned back to the portal, to see if anything else was coming through, but it abruptly dissolved.
"Ortwin…" Iua began.
"Will be fine," Nwm said. "He is merely experiencing a temporary disembodiment."
"When can you…"
"Tomorrow," Nwm answered. He scowled – around them, the devas appointed to guard the castle were gently alighting and manifesting. Their swords, rippling with flames, were already drawn.
"This is holy ground," one of them declared. "You should not be here."
Iua closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, and then breathed deeply for several seconds.
"Do not piss me off," she said.
*
Eadric appeared beneath an ancient beech-tree, the branches of which hung over a small stream which chattered over smooth pebbles. Around him, a forest, with its late summer colours enhanced by the dusk, was visible in all directions. He hardly felt as if he had moved.
The Paladin wondered where he was. Somewhere in Wyre, presumably. Hopefully.
He briefly contemplated the likely inaccuracy of Mostin’s plane shift, and decided that, wherever he was, Nwm would find him before he himself could do anything positive about finding Nwm.
Eadric set down his shield, removed his arms, took off his helm, and, laying his sword across his knees, meditated.
*
Irknaan glowered in disgust as he flew his griffon around the prismatic sphere before descending to the forest floor. Several summoned fiends were vanishing back to their respective glooms, although the compactees – of whom there were nearly a score – remained hovering in the skies nearby.
Soneillon approached, and assumed a stable form. Nhura eyed her suspiciously.
"Can you penetrate it?" Irknaan asked.
"Not without more preparation," the Demoness answered.
The king of the Loquai briefly considered his cloak – it might offer sufficient protection to enter. There again, it might not. And Irknaan was too old and cautious to test its powers to that extent.
"Then we have an impasse," Irknaan observed. "The dimensional anchor will fail before the sphere does. Who do you suppose the kelvezu is?"
"Either Mostin the Metagnostic or Shomei the Infernal," Soneillon answered. "I presume the former – I suspect that Shomei is dead."
"And the Weapon?"
"It would seem that the Weapon has eluded us," Soneillon remarked drily. Two of the palrethees approached with armfuls of items garnered from the treetops and forest floor – Ortwin’s cloak, scimitar, bow and leather jerkin; and Shomei’s pack, which contained a variety of fabulous items. Nhura inspected them, and drew the scimitar from its scabbard.
"This is Githla," she said. "The Azer Jodrumu forged it. It has a long history."
"Even all of these items do not suffice as a weregild for Shupthul and the others," Irknaan snapped.
"There is also a half-sidhe, strapped to a dead nightmare," the Palrethee reported. "She still lives."
Koilimilou, Irknaan smiled to himself.
"The celestials almost succeeded in a cascade**," Nhura remarked. "More than three would have been a problem. This must not be allowed to happen again. Why is the Ahma in Afqithan, and why is my spouse and King consorting with Soneillon?" Nhura’s quick mind and knowledge of obscure lore was rapidly piecing things together.
"It is a complex matter," Soneillon purred.
"Then explain it, demoness," Nhura hissed.
"The Ahma is in Afqithan in order to vex Graz’zt. He perceives Irknaan as a loyal subject of the Prince. He may be beginning to understand that things are somewhat more convoluted than that."
Nhura’s eyes quickly scanned all of those present as she spoke again. In her peripheral vision, the shadow of the wyrm was moving rapidly. Her mind raced, and she elected to take an enormous risk.
"Lady Soneillon, you would find me more tractable than my husband," the Lillend said.
"Silence, bitch!" Irknaan screeched, as the full weight of his Will descended upon Nhura. Blood began to pour from her mouth, nostrils and ears, and the flesh began to peel from her.
Perceiving the truth of Nhura’s words, and without hesitation, Soneillon spoke two dreadful words which echoed across Afqithan. The outer shell of the prismatic sphere quivered in sympathetic vibration, as the magical lattice of the demiplane was stretched closer to its dilational limit.
Irknaan wailed as his cloak’s wards failed him. He burned rapidly into a black vapour, which was carried away on a frigid wind.
The Demoness bent down, slowly picked up the dark mantle, threw it over Nhura, and fastened its clasp about her neck.
"What will you do now, your Majesty?" Soneillon asked, half-amused.
"I think I will take a hunt to the Prime," Nhura replied.
"For what purpose?" Soneillon asked.
"If you have concerns that the Ahma might be dead," Nhura said, "you should put them aside. The sidhe who was disintegrated was not him – the sword of Eadric of Deorham is Lukarn, not Githla. I can deliver him to you. Demons are forbidden by the Interdict, but the Loquai are not. And neither is he," she pointed.
Crosod circled suspiciously at a distance of a thousand yards.
*
Mostin fidgeted uncomfortably within the prismatic sphere, unaware of the events which transpired beyond the rainbow which surrounded him. Apparently, his enemies lacked a disjunction or the correct combination of spells to bring the ward down.
After forty minutes, the dimensional anchor which had barred his own passage from Afqithan failed. Mostin smiled ironically. He lacked sufficient remaining power to safely exit the demiplane. Gingerly, the Alienist thrust his head through the prismatic sphere before quickly retreating it back inside.
Demons. Lots of demons. Most were succubi, but some were very big, and dangerous. There were also a Shator, and two Nycadaemons. And a huge dragon.
Mostin swallowed. The sphere would last six more hours. Nearly two days in Prime Material reckoning. He wondered nervously if his friends could organize a rescue in that time.
He fidgeted again. Not good. Not good.
The Alienist briefly considered using his Mirror to escape, but the thought of leaving it in Afqithan while he fled was too painful.
He gritted his teeth, hasted himself again, floated through the sphere, and teleported to a location one thousand miles to the west, where he appeared in a dark and very remote corner of the shadowy realm.
Mostin’s heart pounded in his chest, and his eyes flitted around as he waited to see if a sensor would follow him.
He uttered a profanity. There it was. He had to go. There was no other way, or they would be on to him.
Space buckled around him, as Mostin invoked a reality maelstrom and was sucked through into another dimension.
It didn’t matter which one, he idly considered, as long as it wasn’t Afqithan.
*
Iua paced ceaselessly near Nwm’s glade, as the Druid, who had resumed a form similar to his natural one, sat in silent reverie with the Green.
He was infuriating in the level of nonchalance that he was exhibiting.
"Get some sleep. Eat something." He had instructed. "There is nothing that I can do until dawn."
Dawn was ten hours away. Iua had scowled, and resumed her pacing. The sun set, the moon rose, midnight passed her by, and in the small hours of the morning, the duelist was gripped by terrible fear.
Nwm remained sitting. Erect, composed, and absurdly serene – as mice scurried over him and investigated his beard and hair.
As the first rays of the sun struck him, he mumbled for ten seconds, smiled and stood up.
"Well?" Iua asked.
"Eadric is in the forest of Nizkur. Mostin is southeast of here, over the ocean." Nwm seemed somewhat surprised by his own words.
Iua gave a hopeful smile.
"Alright," he sighed. He wondered if she would ever understand how much it would cost him.
Ortwin returned as a satyr – although not the same satyr. His hair was ruddier, and he seemed wilder and more unkempt. His grin was unmistakable, however.
"How was death?" Nwm asked.
"The same as last time," Ortwin said easily. "Do you have a mirror?"
"Your weapons and equipment are lost," Nwm remarked. "I think that you’d better try and adjust."
Ortwin opened his mouth in horror.
*
When Shomei awoke, she screamed uncontrollably. Her form – although human and female – was unfamiliar. Nwm waited until the episode had passed before he spoke to her.
"I take it that death was an unpleasant experience?" The Druid asked.
She said nothing, but her face conveyed pain and trauma. She spent a moment inspecting the structure of her mind, noting the disposition of her higher valences.
"Nwm…" She began.
"You owe me," he said.***
She nodded.
From under his cloak, the Druid produced her rod and bracelet.
"You really owe me," he added.
Ortwin scowled. "I should have died first. Your birds might have grabbed my cloak and Githla. What happens now?"
"We find Ed and Mostin," Nwm replied. "I know where they are. We simply have to retrieve them." The Druid turned to Shomei. "Can you get them here?" He asked.
"Not yet," she answered. "I have a duplicate set of books at my home. I need to consult them. But I’m sure that Mostin is quite safe. He is very inventive."
Nwm looked dubious.
**
Mostin found himself in a churning whirlpool as the reality maelstrom deposited him in the Plane of Elemental Water. He groped around blindly for a moment, flapped his arms in an attempt to escape the vortex, and eventually retrieved an Ioun stone from his belt and set it spinning around his head.
His look of smug satisfaction was replaced by one of horror, as he glanced over his shoulder to observe three succubi, who had followed him through the maelstrom.
These demons are crazy, Mostin thought. Wearily, he disintegrated one of the demonesses and struck another with his last sonic orb – the latter spell was wholly unimpressive after the spectacular magical effects which Afqithan had bestowed.
Both remaining succubi attempted to charm him, and although he shrugged off their efforts, Mostin swallowed nervously. It was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.
The Alienist observed in fascination, as the reality maelstrom continued to suck random matter from Afqithan into the water around him: branches, stones and dirt drifted by.
Another succubus rode through the planar rift and appeared ten yards away. It was the one who had disintegrated his previous wall of force.
Mostin cursed. He summoned three pseudomarids and instructed two of them to attack his assailants. The third, he ordered to plane shift him back to the Prime.
Lehurze spoke, and the waters seemed to warp as a power word, stun overcame Mostin, rendering him insensible. The demoness activated her cubic gate, and Mostin’s eyes widened in terror as a portal to Afqithan appeared. The two other succubi closed and attempted to grapple with him as he floated impotently, whilst the summoned pseudoelementals struck at the demonesses.
Abruptly, the scene changed as the Alienist, together with the third pseudonatural genie, plane shifted. Half of the world seemed to become salt water above him, and half of it was air below him. Mostin bobbed upside-down in the water, stricken, at the interface of the two realms.
A minute passed, and the effects of Lehurze’s powerful attack subsided. Gingerly, Mostin arose from out of the water and hovered above it. He dried himself with a prestidigitation and glanced around.
The ocean extended as far as he could see, in every direction.
Mostin quickly calculated the time differential between Afqithan and the Material Plane, and knew that it should be night-time in Wyre. He looked at the sun. It was mid morning. Apparently, he was over the Eastern Ocean, and Wyre was at least five thousand miles away.
Mostin sighed, and began to fly west.
*
Eadric was drawn from his trance abruptly as a mote of light dashed across his field of vision. He glanced up, to notice the waxing moon riding high in the sky above him.
He scowled, and calling upon the Eye of Palamabron which hung around his neck, his vision penetrated the shadows which lay about. Nearly a hundred grigs, pixies, buckawns, sprites and other diminutive feys – either of obscure or unique type – were arranged in a wide circle around him. They watched him suspiciously.
Eadric smiled. He was, of course, a sidhe – at least to casual inspection. His observers seemed nervous of that fact: to say that the coolest and most civilized of feys were infrequent visitors to the World of Men would have been a laughable understatement.
The Paladin cleared his throat, and called out. "I am no sidhe," he assured them. "I am a mortal. My name is Eadric of Deorham."
For several seconds, there was no response. Then a shrill voice piped forth. "Naheen nehaar eleel chellaath?"
"I regret that I cannot understand you," Eadric admitted.
Noisy chattering followed for several minutes. Finally, a fat and singularly pompous-looking pixie fluttered forwards, attended by numerous moths of large size. When he spoke, his words ran together in an almost unintelligible stream, which Eadric found difficulty in understanding.
"Itismostimpolitetoappearthuswithoutinvitation, andsitbeneaththetreewhichiscalledNadholuridin."
"Should I have chosen another tree?" Eadric asked wrily.
"Youaremostrude! Nowyouinsultuswithsarcasticcomments. Weshouldmakeyoudanceuntilyoudropdeadfromexhaustion! Youarefortunatethatanotherhasintervenedonyourbehalf, oryouwouldfeelourroyalwrathdescenduponyou! Mostgraciousandkindandrespectfulhewas, andthereforewearepreparedtobelenient. ButbeforeyouleaveyouwillapologizetoNadholuridin, fortheimpositionthatyouhavesubjectedherto!"
Eadric scowled, and wondered who had ‘intervenedonhisbehalf.’
The pixie raised his arm, and from somewhere behind him a tiny trumpet, more akin to a whistle than any other instrument, sounded forth.
A lone figure walked towards him from beneath the trees. His hair and beard were shaggy, and he wore a simple grey smock, drawn in loosely around his waist by a thin hemp rope.
Eadric gaped, and pressed his forehead to the earth.
Tramst, the Sela, touched him lightly on the shoulder, and the glamour which still sat upon the Paladin, hiding his true form, dissolved.
"And how are things with you, Eadric?" Tramst asked, smiling.
The Ahma, experiencing an upwelling of confusion, grief, and a sense of profound failure - mixed in unlikely measure with a feeling of complete safety in the presence of Oronthon’s proxy - wept cathartically.
NOTES
*It seemed a reasonable tactic to use hit-point attrition – Eadric would probably be the last person standing, and the mages would get taken out first. Lehurze was still geased by Irknaan, and wasn’t operating to Soneillon’s complete satisfaction.
**A cascade occurs when a wizard or cleric gates a solar to a plane (usually the Prime), and it, in turn, opens more gates. The new arrivals open further gates etc. An uninterrupted cascade can be very quick and effective – there were more than three hundred celestials present at Khu within a minute of the initial gate. Half were Solars and Planetars.
‘Cascade’ is a technical term used by arcanists – most of whom view celestial descents as unwanted extraplanar meddling, in stark contrast to the ‘wondrous miracle’ that the pious experience.
***Nwm used a true reincarnation on both Ortwin and Shomei – there was no level loss associated with their deaths. Note that with the 9th level spell I simply allow the caster to choose the form that the new incarnation takes – fortunately, Nwm’s player, Dave, is not prone to exploiting this power.
The spell spoken by Soneillon was Be Not!, an Epic Spell of her own contrivance:
Be Not!
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 36
Components: V
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 300 feet
Target: One living creature
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Fortitude partial
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: Seeds: slay (DC 25); destroy (DC 29). Factors: decrease casting time to 1 action (+20 DC); increase spell’s save DC by +20 (+40 DC); no somatic component (+2 DC); gain +20 bonus on caster level check to overcome target’s spell resistance (+40 DC). Mitigating factor: burn 10000 xp (-100 DC), 20d6 backlash (-20 DC).
The caster utters a single, terrible phrase, destroying the target utterly and removing all traces of it from existence unless it succeeds at a fortitude saving throw (DC 40 + relevant ability modifier.) If the target saving throw succeeds or it has more than 80 levels / hit dice, then it instead sustains 13d6 +20 points of damage. Note that even if the save is successful but the target is reduced to –10 or fewer hit points, its existence is similarly erased.
Other Notes:
1. It’s worth mentioning that I knew that the party was heavily outmatched, and they should have guessed as much. They ought to have fled immediately, but they dithered.
2. I ruled that although Mostin was dimensionally anchored he could still cast spells which allowed interplanar travel – he simply couldn’t travel that way himself.
3. The idea to use summoned creatures to plane shift came a little late for Mostin. He would have saved himself grief if he’d thought of it earlier. Hats off for inventiveness, though.
4. Soneillon’s spell Be Not! is an example of exactly why she is so dangerous – and why Graz’zt fears her so much. Chthonic demons pay no XP cost for spells which normally require it – in Mostin’s terms, her ‘reservoir is limitless’. The 10,000XP burn becomes a standard mitigating factor. C.f.
Shattersoul
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 38
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 300 ft.
Target: One creature
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Fortitude negates
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: Seeds: Transform (DC 21), Transport (DC 27), Ward (DC 14). Factors: transform into inanimate object (+10 DC); transform into seven components (ad hoc +30 DC); transport to extraplanar location (+2 DC); decrease casting time to 1 action (+20 DC); protect against discern location (+14 DC); increase saving throw DC by +10 (+20 DC). Mitigating Factors: burn 10,000 XP (-100 DC); 20d6 backlash (-20 DC).
Shattersoul instantly transforms a single creature into seven identical stone spheres of diminutive size unless it succeeds at a Fortitude saving throw (DC 30+ relevant modifier). The spheres are approximately six inches in diameter.
Each stone is sent to a random planar destination, where it remains until recovered. Only upon recovery of all of the stones is any kind of restoration possible for the victim of a shattersoul spell. A wish or miracle, or an appropriate epic spell which uses the transform seed may then be used to restore the target of the shattersoul.
All of the seven spheres are protected by a ward which renders them impervious to efforts to discover their whereabouts by means of the discern location spell. Epic spells which use the reveal seed must succeed at an opposed caster level check in order to determine the location of each of the stone spheres.
Shattersoul bends the rules close to breaking point but, hey, I'm the DM
Last edited:
