Sepulchrave II
Legend
Arrgh! - I'm in the process of purchasing a house, so don't expect updates to be too frequent.
That said, here's one now.
grodog sometimes has an uncanny perception...
****
Soneillon
Soneillon shifted her position, placing a prayer cushion on the low dais before the Paladin, and sitting upon it – squarely in front of him – in the meditation posture of saizhan. Whether an authentic act, or in dry mockery, Eadric could not tell. She reached forwards, and cupped the Eye of Palamabron which hung around Eadric’s neck in her delicate hand, snapped the chain which held it between thumb and forefinger, and casually tossed the amulet aside. As she straightened again, her hair – which smelled of lotus and sandalwood – brushed his face. She smiled.
Her every gesture possessed an effortless allure, replete with innuendo, and the promise of annihilation which rested in her eyes – fathomless voids – served only to heighten her magnetism. She was infinitely desirable. And something about her, not her appearance, but in some way her essence – if she was endowed with such – reminded him of Nehael.
Eadric closed his eyes.
"Saizhan," she said gently, "demands that you admit to your feelings, take note of them, and allow them to pass peacefully from your mind without judging them. Repression leads to madness. This is why Orthodoxy failed. And erotophobia was among its greatest flaws. You may speak."
The compulsion which transfixed him relaxed just a little. He opened his eyes again, looked at her, and nodded. "There is some merit in that statement," he said shakily. "But If you wish to act as my temptress, you should stand in line – that position is currently filled."
Soneillon laughed, and Eadric was surprised to find that it was a pleasant and agreeable sound. The Paladin recalled Nufrut’s words – most enigmatic, she had labeled the Succubus. He reluctantly found himself in agreement with the Marilith’s assessment.
"What do you want, Eadric?" She asked softly. The question penetrated to his core, assailing him on all levels – existential, emotional and physical – at once. "I can help you recover your demon-lover. I don’t doubt you have already speculated about how best to use me. You could have come to Throile and approached me directly – I am not unreasonable."
"And I am not in the habit of frequenting the Abyssal lairs of demonesses," Eadric replied. "Besides, I find far too many fiends far too reasonable. We determined early on that Throile was too high a risk."
"But you entertained the possibility," she smiled. "One of your allies – the devil Aoloz – is still interned there. The Ahma is wise to use fiends to do his dirty work – they are less conspicuous than solars, I suspect. Although their demise is also less spectacular." Her words bit deep.
"I am not responsible for Shomei’s choice of servants," Eadric sighed.
"Ahh." The fact that Soneillon evinced no sarcasm made her reply even more frustrating.
Eadric looked sceptical. "I’m surprised that you felt the need to discard Palamabron’s Eye. Titivilus felt no compunction about allowing me to wear it. Perhaps you lack his guile?"
"Perhaps," she shrugged. "Or perhaps unequal truths do not concern me."
The Paladin scowled. "I find your oblique references to saizhan baffling. What are you trying to accomplish?"
"They are hardly oblique, Eadric. If I perceive a kernel of wisdom in an idea, then I am not above admitting it – no matter where its source lies. But I am no philosopher and have no interest in debate – I lack the patience. As to the Eye, I’d hoped that you would trust your own ability to judge me, rather than the obsolete lens of a dead cherub. The Truth has changed."
Eadric shook his head wrily. "I can’t trust the authenticity of my own thoughts and actions whilst under the effect of a compulsion. The Eye might allow me to retain some sense of perspective." He sighed. "You wish to use me against Graz’zt. What is it that I can accomplish, which you cannot?"
"Force of arms is not my forté – nor that of my servants. And you are singularly driven in your desire for vengeance. One of Oronthon’s less ‘noble’ aspects, I would argue – but that’s beside the point."
"And what of those you sent here – the Wyrm, Nhura, the Loquai. Why are you here now, if they have come to whisk me back to you?"
"I did not send them – Nhura determined to come of her own volition. And while I’m sure that ingratiating themselves with me is one motive, there are many others. Nhura needs to assert her ascendancy. Koilimilou desires the return of her box of shades. Threxu always longs for new forests to rape and despoil, and the Wyrm to cause as much mischief as he can. And the Loquai? The Loquai can hunt – which is what they love best."
"But you command them?"
Soneillon smiled. "I have no particular attachment to them. You may relax, now. Do as you wish."
Eadric found that he could move again, and shifted his position accordingly. He stood uneasily, glanced at the quartet of unmoving celestials near the altar, at the door to the chapel, and at the demoness again – she looked strangely vulnerable. Somehow, Eadric felt even more uncomfortable than before. He could not read her. He looked at the Eye of Palamabron lying nearby, and sighed. On some level, her words regarding the amulet rang true.
"I would ask that you do not target my friends," Eadric said. "We are interdependent. If you eliminate them, then my effectiveness is diminished."
"I regret Ortwin’s disintegration," she answered. "I didn’t command it."
"And you will call your servants off."
"They are not my servants, Eadric. I am not responsible for their actions."
"You slew Irknaan for his intransigence."
"I slew Irknaan because he was an irritating bore," she replied.
She was maddening. Impossible.
"And what of the other demon? The one of your kind, who is now with Nhura? It is one of yours?"
Soneillon shook her head. "I suggested the name to Irknaan. Whatever compacts were arranged subsequently with Nhura are beyond my purview."
"You could ask the Lillend and her cohorts to return to Afqithan," Eadric said through gritted teeth.
"I could."
"Will you?" He asked.
"No," she replied. "Your actions have led to their presence here. They are your responsibility. And I would like to see how you deal with them."
"You would sacrifice them merely to gauge my suitability as an assassin?"
Soneillon stood up smoothly and stretched slowly, catlike. "If you need me, then call me with your mind when you are on the threshold of sleep. I will come to you."
"I need you to convince your allies to return to Afqithan."
"You know what I mean, Eadric."
He swallowed. "I think you should leave, now." Do not look at me thus.
"Until tonight, then."
"Go."
"Dream well," she smiled, and vanished.
Eadric shook, and cursed silently. He flung the doors to the chapel open, and stormed into the courtyard. The sun was bright, and caused him to squint.
"Nwm!" He thundered.
**
They sat in the Great Hall at Kyrtill’s Burh, around a huge oak table, stained and worn by centuries of feasts held by Eadric’s forebears. Shafts of light from the high windows – opened for the first time in several months – revealed more dust than Mostin felt was healthy. The handful of servants had been less than conscientious in maintaining the interior of the Keep, content instead to deplete the Paladin’s wine cellar. Eadric was unusually tolerant of their idleness – something which the Alienist found deplorable, but knew better than to mention. Mostin discreetly deployed a cantrip to clean the air and furniture.
"Perhaps you should have accepted Titivilus in his offer to act as mediator," the Druid said drily. "I suspect that he would have kept his head, and remained a little cooler. What is it with you and succubi, anyway?"
"Shut up, Ortwin," Eadric said, before the Satyr could open his mouth. The Bard gave a look of mock offense.
Nwm gestured airily. "She has demonstrated her power, in any case. It would seem to be considerable."
Shomei nodded. "I think we knew that – she has held the Prince of Azzagrat to a stalemate for millennia. That is no small feat."
"A simple protection spell should suffice to prevent her exercising further control," Mostin added. "Of course, if she determines that she really wants to – for whatever reason – then she can. We can smother you with wards, all of which would crumble before her magic."
Eadric groaned. "I had assumed that she had dismissed the enchantment."
"No," Mostin said ruefully.
"How long will it last?"
"I don’t know. I could disjoin it, but I think we’re probably better off just letting it run its course – I may need the spell. I doubt it’s permanent – she was dominating the celestials as well."
"How did she appear?" Ortwin asked. "Was she pert, or curvaceous?"
Iua kicked him hard under the table.
"These are important considerations," the Satyr continued. "Would she be swayed by my not inconsiderable charms, I wonder?"
"Have you no principles at all?" Eadric asked. "The question is rhetorical – you need not answer it. As a girl of perhaps eighteen years. She was wearing a Trempan peasant’s clothes – the kind reserved for festivals and holidays."
Mostin raised an eyebrow. "Intriguing. I had a vision of such, although its significance was difficult to determine."
"That is an agreeable persona," Ortwin nodded. "Did it elicit the Ahma’s approval?"
"Where is this line of inquiry leading, Ortwin?" Eadric looked through narrowed eyes.
"I am an accomplished seducer," the Bard declared. "I am merely attempting to deduce her tactics. I appreciate professionalism in the field of love – hence I’ve always had a soft spot for succubi."
"She is far more," Eadric said irritably.
"Than Nehael?" The question was brutal.
"That is not what I meant."
"I’m just making sure," Ortwin smiled disarmingly. "Eadric, forbidden fruit always tastes sweetest – trust me, I’ve plucked enough of it in my time. Your sorry lot is compounded by the fact that you are driven by some religious urge to overcome duality – on whatever level it happens to manifest. Hence, I would speculate, your initial attraction to Nehael."
"They are hardly comparable circumstances."
"Let the Satyr continue," Mostin said. "This is interesting, and he may have a point. He is experiencing a rare moment of philosophical insight. Do not discourage him."
"You perceive the possibility of a union of opposites," Ortwin said.
"Hierosgamos," Mostin nodded approvingly. "The Alchymic Marriage."
"Quite," Ortwin raised an eyebrow.
"And she is playing to your understanding of saizhan," Shomei smiled, "to which the ontological paradox is central. Transcending the duality of ens and non-ens is one of the oldest conundrums of mysticism. Where does consciousness lie when it observes the duality? Does it exist or not? She promises oblivion, which attracts you."
Eadric grumbled. "If you are quite finished in dissecting my psyche…"
"I am not," Ortwin interrupted.
"Nor I," Mostin added. "Eroticism is dangerous because it clouds your perspective – you should exercise caution if you plan to pursue this route as a means to metagnosis. As a recreational activity, I have no problem with it."
"Enough!" Eadric snapped. "I have no desire to pursue ‘metagnosis’ so the point is moot. Can we leave now?"
"Soon," Mostin replied. "I would prefer to wait until they have passed over the deeper stretches of Lake Thahan – if the Dragon takes to the water, it may complicate things."
"I will go and put on that damned armour," Ortwin complained. "I want my gear back."
Outside, Iua turned to the Bard, exasperated. "Do you have to goad him so?"
"My Love, sometimes it is the only way to make him think."
"Do you have to enjoy it so much?"
Ortwin laughed.
Within the hall, Eadric turned to Nwm. "I was hoping that you might have some advice."
The Druid sighed. "It is difficult. I do not view carnality with the same suspicion that you do. Don’t look offended, you know its true. Assuming that we survive this afternoon, then you will be tested again tonight."
"If I sleep within Mostin’s extradimensional space, mind blanked, then I should be safe. Correct, Mostin?"
The Alienist looked dubious. "I suppose so. I am no expert in the way that Dream functions, but that seems reasonable. If she locates you, she can dispel the ward, though. And the fact remains: how long can you realistically avoid her, using this tactic?"
"I concur," Nwm nodded. "And I think that trying to place yourself beyond her ability to reach you might even be detrimental in the long run. It might pique her interest even more, if you set yourself up as a challenge. She seems to have a well-developed sense of humour – from what you’ve said, at least. No. You should retire as normal, and – you’re not going to like this – maybe you should call to her."
Eadric’s jaw dropped. "Are you crazy?"
"You cannot avoid this confrontation now, Eadric. Maybe you can delay it, but I don’t think that would be productive. It will eat at your mind. You should ground yourself, embrace the paradox, and see where it leads. You must act in full consciousness, not in partial denial. If you refuse her attentions, it must be for the right reasons. Talk to her. Open a dialogue, as you said yourself."
"Something which you were against, I recall," Eadric said ironically.
"But now she has made the first move," Nwm pointed out, "and we should reappraise. Reflexivity is required. I am not you, Eadric, and I lack your understanding in certain areas. Shomei seems to think that Soneillon is the most evil, blasphemous, corrupt, tainted entity that she has ever had the misfortune to encounter – she is an expert in such matters, and I am not, so normally I would defer to her opinion. However, you are the Ahma, and your perspective is less than conventional. You must act from instinct, or insight, or whatever you want to call it."
"Sometimes you are very wise, Nwm."
"Yes," the Druid replied. "Although, as a caveat, I would add that it is entirely possible that Mostin is right, your judgement is skewed, and you are rationalizing a basic sexual urge in terms of mystical inquiry."
"That is not helpful," Eadric sighed.
Nwm shrugged. "Sorry," he said.
**
Mostin sat before the Looking-glass of Urm Nahat, idly commanding various scenes to appear upon its surface. Villages. Still, deep water. A small island with a rambling, ramshackle manse of modest proportions.
Eadric stood impatiently behind the Alienist. "What are you doing Mostin?"
"Patience," Mostin replied. He issued a sending:
Whatever you are doing, desist. I will be in your study in five seconds. A matter of utmost importance. Mostin.
The return message began:
But…
Mostin ignored it. Upon the face of the mirror, the scene of a cluttered workspace appeared. Alembics, heaps of papers, homunculi in jars, and devices whose function Eadric could only begin to guess at were scattered and strewn around. A girl – perhaps six years old and wearing a bright yellow cloak which seemed far too large for her – sat at a table, her tiny hands holding a tome almost as large as she was. She scowled into the sensor.
Mostin raised an eyebrow, and stepped through the mirror.
*
"This is most irregular, Mostin," Tozinak said. "I have no party scheduled for three weeks."
"Pay attention," Mostin replied rudely.
Tozinak shifted into the form of a squat dwarf with chestnut skin, a bulbous nose and large, gnarled hands. He looked irritated.
"In approximately fifteen minutes," Mostin continued, "an enormous umbral fiendish dragon and several other creatures of an equally dubious nature will be passing some three miles from here – if they maintain their current course. I plan on intercepting them nearby."
Tozinak spluttered. "But…"
"Tozinak, if I thought there was any chance that you would aid me, then I would ask. You are renowned for your meek temperament – not that I am criticizing…
"It sounds like you are to me," Tozinak grumbled.
"…but I thought I should warn you nonetheless. There will be magical fireworks in your vicinity – do not be alarmed. When Shomei and I…"
"Shomei is with you?"
"She will be. When…" Mostin paused, about to continue with his explanation – a white lie or two to draw the other Wizard’s interest. Perhaps the Dragon had swallowed an ingot of adamant. Perhaps one of the other ‘dubious’ creatures possessed something Tozinak desired. Mostin sighed.
"Tozinak, I can’t lie to you – you’re just too damn nice. Will you help?"
"Well, Mostin, I’d love to but…"
"Never mind," Mostin said. "One cannot expect too much, I suppose. You are not your sister.*"
"That is most unfair. Besides, you never even met my sister."
"Something which I deeply regret," Mostin replied.
"Bah!" Tozinak grunted, and transformed into a winged fey of uncertain genus. "I will do what I can. But then all debts are settled."
"Thank-you, Tozinak."
"Do not expect too much!"
"Don’t worry, Tozinak – I don’t."
**
The inhabitants of Brinnan, a small fishing village nestled beneath the crags of the Gairu – a precipitous massif, which thrust far southwards of the western Thrumohars on the shores of Lake Thahan – did not, for the most part, notice anything untoward, unless it was the faintest acrid smell upon the breeze.
High above, invisible, Crosod, Threxu, Koilimilou and three Loquai champions upon umbral griffons passed rapidly through the sky. They ascended, the great, tenebrous wings of the Dragon somehow capturing the thermals, and granting him lift.
Disguised as a rock upon a granite outcrop, Tozinak shivered. With his magical Sight, he had observed them, and the spectre of the Wyrm – a vast, ravenous shape which ate all light – had almost caused him to fall into a catalepsy of fear and void his stony bowels when they flew overhead. His terror at their passing was matched only by his relief that they could not perceive him.
He swallowed, cast a greater dispelling, and immediately teleported back to his island retreat.
Crosod screeched as wards fell from him and he immediately became visible. He turned his head to locate the source of the spell, his blindsight rapidly scanning the scree. A small boulder vanished. The Wyrm cursed. He turned his head again and was suddenly overwhelmed by a squamous pulse which caused his two-foot thick armour to buckle and rupture.
The sound of his pain and fury was terrific. Rocks split under the force of the noise.
From another outcrop, some hundred yards distant, Eadric, Ortwin and Iua – hasted and invisible – began to launch a storm of enchanted arrows at the Dragon. From an unlocated source, Mostin struck him squarely with a sonic meteor swarm.
The Dragon still reeled, attempting to regain his coordination but Threxu, her face contorted in rage, reacted quickly. She rendered the Wyrm invulnerable to elements and invoked an unholy aura around them both. Nearby, upon her griffon and still warded from sight, Koilimilou targeted the outcrop from which the arrows had issued with an intense burst of dark sound.
Two miles away, on the lakeshore, the fisher-folk of Brinnan stopped in the streets and looked towards the Gairu suspiciously. Thunder echoed in the mountains, but the skies were clear. A mile further out upon the lake, Tozinak quailed in his overgrown garden.
Crosod screamed again as two more squamous pulses caused his scales to twist and dig further into the flesh beneath them, and darts began to pierce his failing armour. Another immense sonic struck him, but harmlessly. He shook off a disintegrate. Above him, now revealed to his perception, a trio of birds descended towards him – two eagles, pulsing with magical power, and a roc of colossal size which dwarfed even his enormous form. The Wyrm’s wings powered him upwards, he invoked a haste, and struck the roc with a quickened destruction which immediately rebounded back upon him, dissipating quickly in the form of black fire over his body.
Sem and Gheim, acting as vehicles of Uedii’s distaste at the presence of the fiendish dragon in her realm, blazed with Green power as they outpaced the larger bird and tore into Crosod. Their claws and beaks ripped through his shivered scales, finding the gaps in his armour around his head and throat.
Shomei erected an antimagic field, and she, Eadric, Iua and Ortwin suddenly became visible upon a granite buttress. The mounted Loquai immediately dived at full speed towards them, leveling their lances. Threxu scowled – unsure of what their sudden appearance meant.
The Wasted Nymph lashed out with a horrid wilting, only to find that it evaporated harmlessly. Koilimilou took note, issued a sending to Nhura for immediate assistance – whatever and however it could arrive there – and quickly summoned a vrock which appeared in the air nearby.
Nwm, seething with powerful magic, broke upon Crosod at full speed, his immense claws and beak puncturing scales, muscle and sinew upon the Wyrm’s back. Shomei gaped from her vantage point as she watched the Roc pluck the writhing Dragon from the air, and toss him with contemptuous ease against a jagged pilon of stone which reared nearby, smashing it to pieces. Threxu gripped onto Crosod’s foreleg desperately, but was flung clear.
Now, upon the rocky platform, Paladin, Bard and Duelist found themselves engaged in a fierce melee with the Loquai and their griffons, trading blows in an area where wards were ineffective and all magic was suffocated. Shomei felt utterly vulnerable – as one unused to depending on the skill of others for her wellbeing, the voluntary surrender of power had been difficult to stomach. The Infernalist’s fears were misplaced – the sidhe were revealed to be totally outmatched, and were cut down in a matter of seconds.
Mostin – wherever he was – targeted Crosod with another greater dispelling, followed by another sonic meteor swarm and a quickened, maximized cluster of magic missiles.
Shattered, Crosod lurched briefly, and vanished into Shadow. Threxu screamed – in frustration and betrayal – even as the pair of eagles descended upon her with their claws bared. They lacerated her umbral flesh in a frenzy, as she strove to fend them off.
Cursing, the Nymph gestured and malice flowed from her. She targeted the base of the buttress upon which Eadric, Ortwin, Iua and Shomei stood with an earthquake, caused granite to crack and groan, and vanished using a dimension door. As the stack collapsed, Ortwin rode a crumbling section of cliff-face downwards, leapt from it as it toppled outwards, rolled, and stood up smoothly.
Shomei, bruised and bloody, sighed as she observed the Satyr and Iua. The Duelist appeared similarly unscathed.
Koilimilou vanished in terror, even as her summoned servitor – following its orders – swept down towards Eadric. The Paladin sighed and hefted Lukarn.
Above, Nwm’s mind reached out with his torc. Threxu was still within range, and although his Sight could not extend to discern her invisible form, he knew she was there. As he powered towards her and she came within view, Nwm shuddered as a horrid wilting coursed over him. It was her last, desperate effort.
Nwm spoke, and a column of viridescent fire erupted from the ground beneath Threxu. The Shadow burned away. For the briefest moment, Nwm fancied that he saw her as maybe she once had been, and then the Green gently reabsorbed her essence.
Before the demon reached Eadric, it entered the antimagic field which still emanated from Shomei, and winked out. Mostin alighted softly upon the ground and reappeared. He grinned wrily. Hovering in the air nearby were four sensors – obviously several parties were interested in their activities, but if one was Nhura, she was disinclined to reveal herself.
After they had returned to Kyrtill’s Burh, Mostin gestured for the others to follow him back through the mirror.
Within two minutes, Crosod was dead: tracked to the Plane of Shadow, and butchered methodically, unceremoniously, and with surprisingly little effort.
**
"Nhura will, no doubt, be reconsidering her options." Shomei closed her eyes and drank deeply from a crystal goblet, allowing the firewine to course through her veins and causing her head to spin.
"Koilimilou used a limited wish in order to teleport," Mostin sighed. "That could prove tedious – Irknaan may have used the same tactic. I suspect that she has joined Nhura and the other group. Still, if I were the Lillend, I would secure reinforcements before proceeding."
"I agree," Eadric nodded. "We are far from safe, but the Wyrm has been eliminated – frankly, he was my biggest concern. His sheer destructive potential was unmatched. The demon, of Soneillon’s ilk – chthonic, Shomei called it: what is its power?"
"That is hard to gauge," Mostin admitted.
"And the other? The ‘unknown?’ Does it remain so?"
Mostin nodded. "But, whatever it is, it cannot be that fearsome – or else we would have been assailed already. I am reluctant to scry them unless we intend to attack immediately afterwards. If they are warded – which seems likely – then a sensor may be ineffective in any case. When I discerned Nhura’s location she was three hundred miles away to the northeast, over Einir. The web of motes revealed Nhura, the Demon, the other creature, and nine more Loquai ‘stalwarts’ in that cluster. Koilimilou has, doubtless, joined them."
"How long before they reach us, assuming we don’t intercept them?"
"Six hours, maybe," Shomei answered. "But they may need to rest – even the griffons cannot fly tirelessly."
"The question is simple," Ortwin said. "Do we engage them here, or en route?"
"I favour the former," Nwm said. "We need to replenish our flagging reserves. Let them come. We will be ready for them. We should rest in the chapel. If they teleport here, it will be at great cost to them, in ineffective pairs or trios. And they will not fly in anytime soon."
"Why?" Eadric asked.
"Because I am going to conjure a large storm," Nwm replied. "So I suggest that you close your windows."
"The enchantment, upon the devas and myself…" Eadric began.
"I will disjoin it," Mostin sighed.
"Ahh, free will will be yours again, Ed," the Satyr said sarcastically. "Now, whatever happens, you have only yourself to blame."
Eadric scowled.
*Qiseze, the Fire Savant slain by Feezuu. Feezuu herself was, of course, subsequently killed by Mostin.
**Mostin had used a discern location to pinpoint Crosod some thirty minutes beforehand, but had opted not to use the mirror to scry him – it was likely that most of the enemy would detect the sensor, and react accordingly. Nwm used his torc to determine their path – there was much to-ing and fro-ing using the mirror, as the party assumed a favorable position. The mountains were chosen because they would afford a useful vantage for the archers, and were away from both forests and inhabited areas.
The two legendary eagles were very seriously buffed – animal growth, bear’s heart, greater magic fang, expeditious retreat and nature’s avatar. I didn’t realize quite how dangerous they could be until this encounter – their melee attacks were at +40 something, and they were dishing out 30 points of damage or more with each attack.
Yet more of Soneillon’s unreasonable Epic spells. She was under the influence the Renewal of Purpose and Desire, routinely invoked by her every month when she is in Throile – essentially a highly excessive buff spell. The Renewal involves the input of the four chief sorcerer-succubi who serve Soneillon. The compulsion afflicting Eadric and the devas, I had dubbed Do What I Will – a nod to the overt Crowleyanity which sometimes pervades the game.
Renewal of Purpose and Desire
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 34
Components: V,S, XP, Ritual
Casting Time: 10 minutes
Range: Personal
Target: You
Duration: 672 hours
To Develop: Seed: Fortify (DC 17), Ward (DC 14). Factors: increase Cha bonus by +19 (+38 DC); increase duration by 3250% (+65 DC); gain +30 on caster level check to beat foe’s dispel effect (+60 DC); ward against disjunction (+16 DC). Mitigating factors: increase casting time by 9 minutes (-18 DC); four other casters contributing 7th level slots (-56 DC); change from target to personal (-2 DC); burn 10,000 XP (-100 DC).
In a brief rite conducted every month (when the moon is new on the Prime Plane), the caster renews her focus and the ability to exercise her Will. She gains a +20 enhancement bonus to Charisma which lasts for one month – until the next invocation of Renewal of Purpose and Desire.
The spell itself enjoys a +30 bonus on the caster level check when targeted by dispel effects directed at it – effectively negating the bonus offered by superb dispelling. It otherwise requires two disjunctions to counter the Renewal of Purpose and Desire – the first eliminates the ward component of the spell, the second counters the enhancement bonus itself.
Do What I Will
Enchantment (Compulsion) [Mind-Affecting]
Spellcraft DC: 40
Components: None
Casting Time: 1 quickened action
Range: 75 ft.
Area: 20-ft. radius sphere
Duration: 23 hours 20 minutes
Saving Throw: Will negates
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: Seeds: Compel (DC 19); Contact (DC 23). Factors: Quickened spell (+28 DC); no verbal or somatic components (+4 DC); dismissible by caster (+2 DC); increase duration by 600% (+24 DC); change from target to 20 ft. radius area (+10 DC); compel unreasonable course of action (+10 DC); Increase spell’s saving throw DC by +10 (+20 DC); Mitigating factor: burn 10000 XP.
The caster establishes an immediate telepathic bond with all creatures within the area of effect and issues a silent mental command forcing them to do her bidding. Each target is allowed a Will saving throw (DC 30 + relevant modifier) in order to resist the effect.
Once the compulsion is established, the caster may exercise her Will and telepathically command each of those affected – either singly or jointly – to perform actions as she sees fit. Distance is not a factor. Issuing subsequent commands is a free action, although only one such command may be given in any round. Even instructions which would normally result in the death of those affected by Do What I Will are followed to the letter.
That said, here's one now.
grodog sometimes has an uncanny perception...
****
Soneillon
Soneillon shifted her position, placing a prayer cushion on the low dais before the Paladin, and sitting upon it – squarely in front of him – in the meditation posture of saizhan. Whether an authentic act, or in dry mockery, Eadric could not tell. She reached forwards, and cupped the Eye of Palamabron which hung around Eadric’s neck in her delicate hand, snapped the chain which held it between thumb and forefinger, and casually tossed the amulet aside. As she straightened again, her hair – which smelled of lotus and sandalwood – brushed his face. She smiled.
Her every gesture possessed an effortless allure, replete with innuendo, and the promise of annihilation which rested in her eyes – fathomless voids – served only to heighten her magnetism. She was infinitely desirable. And something about her, not her appearance, but in some way her essence – if she was endowed with such – reminded him of Nehael.
Eadric closed his eyes.
"Saizhan," she said gently, "demands that you admit to your feelings, take note of them, and allow them to pass peacefully from your mind without judging them. Repression leads to madness. This is why Orthodoxy failed. And erotophobia was among its greatest flaws. You may speak."
The compulsion which transfixed him relaxed just a little. He opened his eyes again, looked at her, and nodded. "There is some merit in that statement," he said shakily. "But If you wish to act as my temptress, you should stand in line – that position is currently filled."
Soneillon laughed, and Eadric was surprised to find that it was a pleasant and agreeable sound. The Paladin recalled Nufrut’s words – most enigmatic, she had labeled the Succubus. He reluctantly found himself in agreement with the Marilith’s assessment.
"What do you want, Eadric?" She asked softly. The question penetrated to his core, assailing him on all levels – existential, emotional and physical – at once. "I can help you recover your demon-lover. I don’t doubt you have already speculated about how best to use me. You could have come to Throile and approached me directly – I am not unreasonable."
"And I am not in the habit of frequenting the Abyssal lairs of demonesses," Eadric replied. "Besides, I find far too many fiends far too reasonable. We determined early on that Throile was too high a risk."
"But you entertained the possibility," she smiled. "One of your allies – the devil Aoloz – is still interned there. The Ahma is wise to use fiends to do his dirty work – they are less conspicuous than solars, I suspect. Although their demise is also less spectacular." Her words bit deep.
"I am not responsible for Shomei’s choice of servants," Eadric sighed.
"Ahh." The fact that Soneillon evinced no sarcasm made her reply even more frustrating.
Eadric looked sceptical. "I’m surprised that you felt the need to discard Palamabron’s Eye. Titivilus felt no compunction about allowing me to wear it. Perhaps you lack his guile?"
"Perhaps," she shrugged. "Or perhaps unequal truths do not concern me."
The Paladin scowled. "I find your oblique references to saizhan baffling. What are you trying to accomplish?"
"They are hardly oblique, Eadric. If I perceive a kernel of wisdom in an idea, then I am not above admitting it – no matter where its source lies. But I am no philosopher and have no interest in debate – I lack the patience. As to the Eye, I’d hoped that you would trust your own ability to judge me, rather than the obsolete lens of a dead cherub. The Truth has changed."
Eadric shook his head wrily. "I can’t trust the authenticity of my own thoughts and actions whilst under the effect of a compulsion. The Eye might allow me to retain some sense of perspective." He sighed. "You wish to use me against Graz’zt. What is it that I can accomplish, which you cannot?"
"Force of arms is not my forté – nor that of my servants. And you are singularly driven in your desire for vengeance. One of Oronthon’s less ‘noble’ aspects, I would argue – but that’s beside the point."
"And what of those you sent here – the Wyrm, Nhura, the Loquai. Why are you here now, if they have come to whisk me back to you?"
"I did not send them – Nhura determined to come of her own volition. And while I’m sure that ingratiating themselves with me is one motive, there are many others. Nhura needs to assert her ascendancy. Koilimilou desires the return of her box of shades. Threxu always longs for new forests to rape and despoil, and the Wyrm to cause as much mischief as he can. And the Loquai? The Loquai can hunt – which is what they love best."
"But you command them?"
Soneillon smiled. "I have no particular attachment to them. You may relax, now. Do as you wish."
Eadric found that he could move again, and shifted his position accordingly. He stood uneasily, glanced at the quartet of unmoving celestials near the altar, at the door to the chapel, and at the demoness again – she looked strangely vulnerable. Somehow, Eadric felt even more uncomfortable than before. He could not read her. He looked at the Eye of Palamabron lying nearby, and sighed. On some level, her words regarding the amulet rang true.
"I would ask that you do not target my friends," Eadric said. "We are interdependent. If you eliminate them, then my effectiveness is diminished."
"I regret Ortwin’s disintegration," she answered. "I didn’t command it."
"And you will call your servants off."
"They are not my servants, Eadric. I am not responsible for their actions."
"You slew Irknaan for his intransigence."
"I slew Irknaan because he was an irritating bore," she replied.
She was maddening. Impossible.
"And what of the other demon? The one of your kind, who is now with Nhura? It is one of yours?"
Soneillon shook her head. "I suggested the name to Irknaan. Whatever compacts were arranged subsequently with Nhura are beyond my purview."
"You could ask the Lillend and her cohorts to return to Afqithan," Eadric said through gritted teeth.
"I could."
"Will you?" He asked.
"No," she replied. "Your actions have led to their presence here. They are your responsibility. And I would like to see how you deal with them."
"You would sacrifice them merely to gauge my suitability as an assassin?"
Soneillon stood up smoothly and stretched slowly, catlike. "If you need me, then call me with your mind when you are on the threshold of sleep. I will come to you."
"I need you to convince your allies to return to Afqithan."
"You know what I mean, Eadric."
He swallowed. "I think you should leave, now." Do not look at me thus.
"Until tonight, then."
"Go."
"Dream well," she smiled, and vanished.
Eadric shook, and cursed silently. He flung the doors to the chapel open, and stormed into the courtyard. The sun was bright, and caused him to squint.
"Nwm!" He thundered.
**
They sat in the Great Hall at Kyrtill’s Burh, around a huge oak table, stained and worn by centuries of feasts held by Eadric’s forebears. Shafts of light from the high windows – opened for the first time in several months – revealed more dust than Mostin felt was healthy. The handful of servants had been less than conscientious in maintaining the interior of the Keep, content instead to deplete the Paladin’s wine cellar. Eadric was unusually tolerant of their idleness – something which the Alienist found deplorable, but knew better than to mention. Mostin discreetly deployed a cantrip to clean the air and furniture.
"Perhaps you should have accepted Titivilus in his offer to act as mediator," the Druid said drily. "I suspect that he would have kept his head, and remained a little cooler. What is it with you and succubi, anyway?"
"Shut up, Ortwin," Eadric said, before the Satyr could open his mouth. The Bard gave a look of mock offense.
Nwm gestured airily. "She has demonstrated her power, in any case. It would seem to be considerable."
Shomei nodded. "I think we knew that – she has held the Prince of Azzagrat to a stalemate for millennia. That is no small feat."
"A simple protection spell should suffice to prevent her exercising further control," Mostin added. "Of course, if she determines that she really wants to – for whatever reason – then she can. We can smother you with wards, all of which would crumble before her magic."
Eadric groaned. "I had assumed that she had dismissed the enchantment."
"No," Mostin said ruefully.
"How long will it last?"
"I don’t know. I could disjoin it, but I think we’re probably better off just letting it run its course – I may need the spell. I doubt it’s permanent – she was dominating the celestials as well."
"How did she appear?" Ortwin asked. "Was she pert, or curvaceous?"
Iua kicked him hard under the table.
"These are important considerations," the Satyr continued. "Would she be swayed by my not inconsiderable charms, I wonder?"
"Have you no principles at all?" Eadric asked. "The question is rhetorical – you need not answer it. As a girl of perhaps eighteen years. She was wearing a Trempan peasant’s clothes – the kind reserved for festivals and holidays."
Mostin raised an eyebrow. "Intriguing. I had a vision of such, although its significance was difficult to determine."
"That is an agreeable persona," Ortwin nodded. "Did it elicit the Ahma’s approval?"
"Where is this line of inquiry leading, Ortwin?" Eadric looked through narrowed eyes.
"I am an accomplished seducer," the Bard declared. "I am merely attempting to deduce her tactics. I appreciate professionalism in the field of love – hence I’ve always had a soft spot for succubi."
"She is far more," Eadric said irritably.
"Than Nehael?" The question was brutal.
"That is not what I meant."
"I’m just making sure," Ortwin smiled disarmingly. "Eadric, forbidden fruit always tastes sweetest – trust me, I’ve plucked enough of it in my time. Your sorry lot is compounded by the fact that you are driven by some religious urge to overcome duality – on whatever level it happens to manifest. Hence, I would speculate, your initial attraction to Nehael."
"They are hardly comparable circumstances."
"Let the Satyr continue," Mostin said. "This is interesting, and he may have a point. He is experiencing a rare moment of philosophical insight. Do not discourage him."
"You perceive the possibility of a union of opposites," Ortwin said.
"Hierosgamos," Mostin nodded approvingly. "The Alchymic Marriage."
"Quite," Ortwin raised an eyebrow.
"And she is playing to your understanding of saizhan," Shomei smiled, "to which the ontological paradox is central. Transcending the duality of ens and non-ens is one of the oldest conundrums of mysticism. Where does consciousness lie when it observes the duality? Does it exist or not? She promises oblivion, which attracts you."
Eadric grumbled. "If you are quite finished in dissecting my psyche…"
"I am not," Ortwin interrupted.
"Nor I," Mostin added. "Eroticism is dangerous because it clouds your perspective – you should exercise caution if you plan to pursue this route as a means to metagnosis. As a recreational activity, I have no problem with it."
"Enough!" Eadric snapped. "I have no desire to pursue ‘metagnosis’ so the point is moot. Can we leave now?"
"Soon," Mostin replied. "I would prefer to wait until they have passed over the deeper stretches of Lake Thahan – if the Dragon takes to the water, it may complicate things."
"I will go and put on that damned armour," Ortwin complained. "I want my gear back."
Outside, Iua turned to the Bard, exasperated. "Do you have to goad him so?"
"My Love, sometimes it is the only way to make him think."
"Do you have to enjoy it so much?"
Ortwin laughed.
Within the hall, Eadric turned to Nwm. "I was hoping that you might have some advice."
The Druid sighed. "It is difficult. I do not view carnality with the same suspicion that you do. Don’t look offended, you know its true. Assuming that we survive this afternoon, then you will be tested again tonight."
"If I sleep within Mostin’s extradimensional space, mind blanked, then I should be safe. Correct, Mostin?"
The Alienist looked dubious. "I suppose so. I am no expert in the way that Dream functions, but that seems reasonable. If she locates you, she can dispel the ward, though. And the fact remains: how long can you realistically avoid her, using this tactic?"
"I concur," Nwm nodded. "And I think that trying to place yourself beyond her ability to reach you might even be detrimental in the long run. It might pique her interest even more, if you set yourself up as a challenge. She seems to have a well-developed sense of humour – from what you’ve said, at least. No. You should retire as normal, and – you’re not going to like this – maybe you should call to her."
Eadric’s jaw dropped. "Are you crazy?"
"You cannot avoid this confrontation now, Eadric. Maybe you can delay it, but I don’t think that would be productive. It will eat at your mind. You should ground yourself, embrace the paradox, and see where it leads. You must act in full consciousness, not in partial denial. If you refuse her attentions, it must be for the right reasons. Talk to her. Open a dialogue, as you said yourself."
"Something which you were against, I recall," Eadric said ironically.
"But now she has made the first move," Nwm pointed out, "and we should reappraise. Reflexivity is required. I am not you, Eadric, and I lack your understanding in certain areas. Shomei seems to think that Soneillon is the most evil, blasphemous, corrupt, tainted entity that she has ever had the misfortune to encounter – she is an expert in such matters, and I am not, so normally I would defer to her opinion. However, you are the Ahma, and your perspective is less than conventional. You must act from instinct, or insight, or whatever you want to call it."
"Sometimes you are very wise, Nwm."
"Yes," the Druid replied. "Although, as a caveat, I would add that it is entirely possible that Mostin is right, your judgement is skewed, and you are rationalizing a basic sexual urge in terms of mystical inquiry."
"That is not helpful," Eadric sighed.
Nwm shrugged. "Sorry," he said.
**
Mostin sat before the Looking-glass of Urm Nahat, idly commanding various scenes to appear upon its surface. Villages. Still, deep water. A small island with a rambling, ramshackle manse of modest proportions.
Eadric stood impatiently behind the Alienist. "What are you doing Mostin?"
"Patience," Mostin replied. He issued a sending:
Whatever you are doing, desist. I will be in your study in five seconds. A matter of utmost importance. Mostin.
The return message began:
But…
Mostin ignored it. Upon the face of the mirror, the scene of a cluttered workspace appeared. Alembics, heaps of papers, homunculi in jars, and devices whose function Eadric could only begin to guess at were scattered and strewn around. A girl – perhaps six years old and wearing a bright yellow cloak which seemed far too large for her – sat at a table, her tiny hands holding a tome almost as large as she was. She scowled into the sensor.
Mostin raised an eyebrow, and stepped through the mirror.
*
"This is most irregular, Mostin," Tozinak said. "I have no party scheduled for three weeks."
"Pay attention," Mostin replied rudely.
Tozinak shifted into the form of a squat dwarf with chestnut skin, a bulbous nose and large, gnarled hands. He looked irritated.
"In approximately fifteen minutes," Mostin continued, "an enormous umbral fiendish dragon and several other creatures of an equally dubious nature will be passing some three miles from here – if they maintain their current course. I plan on intercepting them nearby."
Tozinak spluttered. "But…"
"Tozinak, if I thought there was any chance that you would aid me, then I would ask. You are renowned for your meek temperament – not that I am criticizing…
"It sounds like you are to me," Tozinak grumbled.
"…but I thought I should warn you nonetheless. There will be magical fireworks in your vicinity – do not be alarmed. When Shomei and I…"
"Shomei is with you?"
"She will be. When…" Mostin paused, about to continue with his explanation – a white lie or two to draw the other Wizard’s interest. Perhaps the Dragon had swallowed an ingot of adamant. Perhaps one of the other ‘dubious’ creatures possessed something Tozinak desired. Mostin sighed.
"Tozinak, I can’t lie to you – you’re just too damn nice. Will you help?"
"Well, Mostin, I’d love to but…"
"Never mind," Mostin said. "One cannot expect too much, I suppose. You are not your sister.*"
"That is most unfair. Besides, you never even met my sister."
"Something which I deeply regret," Mostin replied.
"Bah!" Tozinak grunted, and transformed into a winged fey of uncertain genus. "I will do what I can. But then all debts are settled."
"Thank-you, Tozinak."
"Do not expect too much!"
"Don’t worry, Tozinak – I don’t."
**
The inhabitants of Brinnan, a small fishing village nestled beneath the crags of the Gairu – a precipitous massif, which thrust far southwards of the western Thrumohars on the shores of Lake Thahan – did not, for the most part, notice anything untoward, unless it was the faintest acrid smell upon the breeze.
High above, invisible, Crosod, Threxu, Koilimilou and three Loquai champions upon umbral griffons passed rapidly through the sky. They ascended, the great, tenebrous wings of the Dragon somehow capturing the thermals, and granting him lift.
Disguised as a rock upon a granite outcrop, Tozinak shivered. With his magical Sight, he had observed them, and the spectre of the Wyrm – a vast, ravenous shape which ate all light – had almost caused him to fall into a catalepsy of fear and void his stony bowels when they flew overhead. His terror at their passing was matched only by his relief that they could not perceive him.
He swallowed, cast a greater dispelling, and immediately teleported back to his island retreat.
Crosod screeched as wards fell from him and he immediately became visible. He turned his head to locate the source of the spell, his blindsight rapidly scanning the scree. A small boulder vanished. The Wyrm cursed. He turned his head again and was suddenly overwhelmed by a squamous pulse which caused his two-foot thick armour to buckle and rupture.
The sound of his pain and fury was terrific. Rocks split under the force of the noise.
From another outcrop, some hundred yards distant, Eadric, Ortwin and Iua – hasted and invisible – began to launch a storm of enchanted arrows at the Dragon. From an unlocated source, Mostin struck him squarely with a sonic meteor swarm.
The Dragon still reeled, attempting to regain his coordination but Threxu, her face contorted in rage, reacted quickly. She rendered the Wyrm invulnerable to elements and invoked an unholy aura around them both. Nearby, upon her griffon and still warded from sight, Koilimilou targeted the outcrop from which the arrows had issued with an intense burst of dark sound.
Two miles away, on the lakeshore, the fisher-folk of Brinnan stopped in the streets and looked towards the Gairu suspiciously. Thunder echoed in the mountains, but the skies were clear. A mile further out upon the lake, Tozinak quailed in his overgrown garden.
Crosod screamed again as two more squamous pulses caused his scales to twist and dig further into the flesh beneath them, and darts began to pierce his failing armour. Another immense sonic struck him, but harmlessly. He shook off a disintegrate. Above him, now revealed to his perception, a trio of birds descended towards him – two eagles, pulsing with magical power, and a roc of colossal size which dwarfed even his enormous form. The Wyrm’s wings powered him upwards, he invoked a haste, and struck the roc with a quickened destruction which immediately rebounded back upon him, dissipating quickly in the form of black fire over his body.
Sem and Gheim, acting as vehicles of Uedii’s distaste at the presence of the fiendish dragon in her realm, blazed with Green power as they outpaced the larger bird and tore into Crosod. Their claws and beaks ripped through his shivered scales, finding the gaps in his armour around his head and throat.
Shomei erected an antimagic field, and she, Eadric, Iua and Ortwin suddenly became visible upon a granite buttress. The mounted Loquai immediately dived at full speed towards them, leveling their lances. Threxu scowled – unsure of what their sudden appearance meant.
The Wasted Nymph lashed out with a horrid wilting, only to find that it evaporated harmlessly. Koilimilou took note, issued a sending to Nhura for immediate assistance – whatever and however it could arrive there – and quickly summoned a vrock which appeared in the air nearby.
Nwm, seething with powerful magic, broke upon Crosod at full speed, his immense claws and beak puncturing scales, muscle and sinew upon the Wyrm’s back. Shomei gaped from her vantage point as she watched the Roc pluck the writhing Dragon from the air, and toss him with contemptuous ease against a jagged pilon of stone which reared nearby, smashing it to pieces. Threxu gripped onto Crosod’s foreleg desperately, but was flung clear.
Now, upon the rocky platform, Paladin, Bard and Duelist found themselves engaged in a fierce melee with the Loquai and their griffons, trading blows in an area where wards were ineffective and all magic was suffocated. Shomei felt utterly vulnerable – as one unused to depending on the skill of others for her wellbeing, the voluntary surrender of power had been difficult to stomach. The Infernalist’s fears were misplaced – the sidhe were revealed to be totally outmatched, and were cut down in a matter of seconds.
Mostin – wherever he was – targeted Crosod with another greater dispelling, followed by another sonic meteor swarm and a quickened, maximized cluster of magic missiles.
Shattered, Crosod lurched briefly, and vanished into Shadow. Threxu screamed – in frustration and betrayal – even as the pair of eagles descended upon her with their claws bared. They lacerated her umbral flesh in a frenzy, as she strove to fend them off.
Cursing, the Nymph gestured and malice flowed from her. She targeted the base of the buttress upon which Eadric, Ortwin, Iua and Shomei stood with an earthquake, caused granite to crack and groan, and vanished using a dimension door. As the stack collapsed, Ortwin rode a crumbling section of cliff-face downwards, leapt from it as it toppled outwards, rolled, and stood up smoothly.
Shomei, bruised and bloody, sighed as she observed the Satyr and Iua. The Duelist appeared similarly unscathed.
Koilimilou vanished in terror, even as her summoned servitor – following its orders – swept down towards Eadric. The Paladin sighed and hefted Lukarn.
Above, Nwm’s mind reached out with his torc. Threxu was still within range, and although his Sight could not extend to discern her invisible form, he knew she was there. As he powered towards her and she came within view, Nwm shuddered as a horrid wilting coursed over him. It was her last, desperate effort.
Nwm spoke, and a column of viridescent fire erupted from the ground beneath Threxu. The Shadow burned away. For the briefest moment, Nwm fancied that he saw her as maybe she once had been, and then the Green gently reabsorbed her essence.
Before the demon reached Eadric, it entered the antimagic field which still emanated from Shomei, and winked out. Mostin alighted softly upon the ground and reappeared. He grinned wrily. Hovering in the air nearby were four sensors – obviously several parties were interested in their activities, but if one was Nhura, she was disinclined to reveal herself.
After they had returned to Kyrtill’s Burh, Mostin gestured for the others to follow him back through the mirror.
Within two minutes, Crosod was dead: tracked to the Plane of Shadow, and butchered methodically, unceremoniously, and with surprisingly little effort.
**
"Nhura will, no doubt, be reconsidering her options." Shomei closed her eyes and drank deeply from a crystal goblet, allowing the firewine to course through her veins and causing her head to spin.
"Koilimilou used a limited wish in order to teleport," Mostin sighed. "That could prove tedious – Irknaan may have used the same tactic. I suspect that she has joined Nhura and the other group. Still, if I were the Lillend, I would secure reinforcements before proceeding."
"I agree," Eadric nodded. "We are far from safe, but the Wyrm has been eliminated – frankly, he was my biggest concern. His sheer destructive potential was unmatched. The demon, of Soneillon’s ilk – chthonic, Shomei called it: what is its power?"
"That is hard to gauge," Mostin admitted.
"And the other? The ‘unknown?’ Does it remain so?"
Mostin nodded. "But, whatever it is, it cannot be that fearsome – or else we would have been assailed already. I am reluctant to scry them unless we intend to attack immediately afterwards. If they are warded – which seems likely – then a sensor may be ineffective in any case. When I discerned Nhura’s location she was three hundred miles away to the northeast, over Einir. The web of motes revealed Nhura, the Demon, the other creature, and nine more Loquai ‘stalwarts’ in that cluster. Koilimilou has, doubtless, joined them."
"How long before they reach us, assuming we don’t intercept them?"
"Six hours, maybe," Shomei answered. "But they may need to rest – even the griffons cannot fly tirelessly."
"The question is simple," Ortwin said. "Do we engage them here, or en route?"
"I favour the former," Nwm said. "We need to replenish our flagging reserves. Let them come. We will be ready for them. We should rest in the chapel. If they teleport here, it will be at great cost to them, in ineffective pairs or trios. And they will not fly in anytime soon."
"Why?" Eadric asked.
"Because I am going to conjure a large storm," Nwm replied. "So I suggest that you close your windows."
"The enchantment, upon the devas and myself…" Eadric began.
"I will disjoin it," Mostin sighed.
"Ahh, free will will be yours again, Ed," the Satyr said sarcastically. "Now, whatever happens, you have only yourself to blame."
Eadric scowled.
*Qiseze, the Fire Savant slain by Feezuu. Feezuu herself was, of course, subsequently killed by Mostin.
**Mostin had used a discern location to pinpoint Crosod some thirty minutes beforehand, but had opted not to use the mirror to scry him – it was likely that most of the enemy would detect the sensor, and react accordingly. Nwm used his torc to determine their path – there was much to-ing and fro-ing using the mirror, as the party assumed a favorable position. The mountains were chosen because they would afford a useful vantage for the archers, and were away from both forests and inhabited areas.
The two legendary eagles were very seriously buffed – animal growth, bear’s heart, greater magic fang, expeditious retreat and nature’s avatar. I didn’t realize quite how dangerous they could be until this encounter – their melee attacks were at +40 something, and they were dishing out 30 points of damage or more with each attack.
Yet more of Soneillon’s unreasonable Epic spells. She was under the influence the Renewal of Purpose and Desire, routinely invoked by her every month when she is in Throile – essentially a highly excessive buff spell. The Renewal involves the input of the four chief sorcerer-succubi who serve Soneillon. The compulsion afflicting Eadric and the devas, I had dubbed Do What I Will – a nod to the overt Crowleyanity which sometimes pervades the game.
Renewal of Purpose and Desire
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 34
Components: V,S, XP, Ritual
Casting Time: 10 minutes
Range: Personal
Target: You
Duration: 672 hours
To Develop: Seed: Fortify (DC 17), Ward (DC 14). Factors: increase Cha bonus by +19 (+38 DC); increase duration by 3250% (+65 DC); gain +30 on caster level check to beat foe’s dispel effect (+60 DC); ward against disjunction (+16 DC). Mitigating factors: increase casting time by 9 minutes (-18 DC); four other casters contributing 7th level slots (-56 DC); change from target to personal (-2 DC); burn 10,000 XP (-100 DC).
In a brief rite conducted every month (when the moon is new on the Prime Plane), the caster renews her focus and the ability to exercise her Will. She gains a +20 enhancement bonus to Charisma which lasts for one month – until the next invocation of Renewal of Purpose and Desire.
The spell itself enjoys a +30 bonus on the caster level check when targeted by dispel effects directed at it – effectively negating the bonus offered by superb dispelling. It otherwise requires two disjunctions to counter the Renewal of Purpose and Desire – the first eliminates the ward component of the spell, the second counters the enhancement bonus itself.
Do What I Will
Enchantment (Compulsion) [Mind-Affecting]
Spellcraft DC: 40
Components: None
Casting Time: 1 quickened action
Range: 75 ft.
Area: 20-ft. radius sphere
Duration: 23 hours 20 minutes
Saving Throw: Will negates
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: Seeds: Compel (DC 19); Contact (DC 23). Factors: Quickened spell (+28 DC); no verbal or somatic components (+4 DC); dismissible by caster (+2 DC); increase duration by 600% (+24 DC); change from target to 20 ft. radius area (+10 DC); compel unreasonable course of action (+10 DC); Increase spell’s saving throw DC by +10 (+20 DC); Mitigating factor: burn 10000 XP.
The caster establishes an immediate telepathic bond with all creatures within the area of effect and issues a silent mental command forcing them to do her bidding. Each target is allowed a Will saving throw (DC 30 + relevant modifier) in order to resist the effect.
Once the compulsion is established, the caster may exercise her Will and telepathically command each of those affected – either singly or jointly – to perform actions as she sees fit. Distance is not a factor. Issuing subsequent commands is a free action, although only one such command may be given in any round. Even instructions which would normally result in the death of those affected by Do What I Will are followed to the letter.
