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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 7644986" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 54: GHOSTS OF THE OSTEOVOX</strong></p><p></p><p>PC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Daleth Stormsea, elf wizard 16</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Galen Thorne, human paladin 17</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Kaspar Hardstrike, elf monk 17</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Orion Nightsky, halfling rogue 17</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Syngaard, human fighter 17</p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 31 July 2019</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>Kaspar spoke the command word to the <em>ring of return</em> and the conscripts <em>teleported</em> just outside the gates of the capital city of Durnhill. They walked through the gates and saw Mikito and Anuja helping to break down the shadowscale kobolds' tents and pack them up for their return to their swampland homes. "Skevros saw your success in the cave of the dragon," Mikito informed them. "You are to provide..." - and here she stumbled on the black dragon's difficult name - "...Three-er-nar-icks...the coins from her mother's hoard. She awaits you at the tavern."</p><p></p><p>Sure enough, the black dragon stood just outside the <em>Enchanted Flagon</em>, awaiting the return of the heroes she had sent to slay her older sister. "You have succeeded," she said.</p><p></p><p>"We're here, ain't we?" Syngaard replied. "And we gotcher coins an' all." Orion opened her <em>bag of holding</em> and started emptying its contents on the ground. Seeing the pile growing beyond what a dragon in human form would be able to easily carry, Kaspar opened up his own <em>bag of holding</em>, emptied it of its own meager contents, and offered it to Thriirnaryx as a means to carry the combined hoard from her mother's lair. She nodded in gratitude and said she would have one of her kobold minions return it to the elven monk once the treasure had been returned to her own lair. Then, lifting the borrowed sack over her shoulder, she made her way to the southern gates to join her kobold tribe of followers.</p><p></p><p>"It's good to be back," remarked Galen as he led the way into the <em>Enchanted Flagon</em>. "I, for one, could use a drink."</p><p></p><p>"Same here," replied Syngaard. "Karen!" he called, looking at the back of the tavern where the spell-effect barmaid usually stood when not otherwise needed. But Karen was in the front of the room and closed and locked the front door once all of the conscripts - as well as Burt, Carl, and Todd - had entered.</p><p></p><p>"As it is written, so it shall be," she intoned in a regal, feminine voice - which in itself was somewhat surprising, given that Skevros had never given the barmaid vocal abilities; she was simply a permanent illusion spell cast upon a permanent <em>unseen servant</em> spell. "Today is the day you die."</p><p></p><p>Expecting the worst - an enemy in their headquarters disguised as their barmaid - Galen and Syngaard whipped out their weapons, ready to attack. The paladin concentrated on Karen's aura. "She's not evil," he announced, lowering his unsheathed longsword. "Who are you?" he demanded.</p><p></p><p>"My name is <strong>Saraphael</strong>," replied the barmaid. "I have been sent to ensure your deaths, that you may destroy the lich Alexandros permanently - now, after his temporary death at your hands, and before he has the time to remanifest into the mortal world."</p><p></p><p>"You're here to kill us?" asked Orion, astride her ghost-dog Carl. Her hand strayed close to the <em>bag of blades</em> tied to the side of the saddle.</p><p></p><p>"It is a necessary step in the plan - but I can assure you your deaths will be but temporary; at the proper time, you will be returned to the mortal world."</p><p></p><p>"Works for me," Syngaard piped up. "We gotta take out the Mithral Mage's phylactery from the inside - that's what Hirek said, remember? We don't do that, we ain't never movin' on to our normal afterlives when we die for good." He took his seat at the table and turned to Saraphael. "What do we gotta do?"</p><p></p><p>"Merely accept your fate and close your eyes."</p><p></p><p>Syngaard didn't hesitate a moment; he closed his eyes and a slight smile crossed his scarred face at the thought that he was actively taking steps to ensure his eventual reunion with Messalina, his slain wife.</p><p></p><p>"What of Todd?" asked Daleth as he and the other men took their seats around the table. "Will he be coming with us?"</p><p></p><p>"Only the five of you," replied Saraphael. "Todd and Burt will remain here with me to stand watch over your bodies while your spirits do what must be done."</p><p></p><p>"And Carl?" asked Orion.</p><p></p><p>"Carl is already capable of going where you will go."</p><p></p><p>Orion nodded in satisfaction and climbed down out of the saddle. "See you soon, Carl," she said, keeping one hand on the <em>ghost touch saddle</em> long enough to rub the dog's fur behind his ears. Then she climbed up onto one of the chairs around the main table, joining the others. Syngaard's body had already slumped forward and the little halfing saw no signs of respiration in his unmoving frame. She took a deep breath and told herself to be brave: if the great oaf could face his death with so little reservation, then so could she! Closing her eyes, she accepted that this was a necessary act. She fell forward onto the table as if asleep, but her breathing ceased entirely.</p><p></p><p>The elves, Daleth and Kaspar, followed suit, leaving only Galen sitting there at the table among a quartet of now-dead adventuring companions. "Hieroneous, guide and protect us," he intoned before closing his eyes and falling forward in his seat.</p><p></p><p>"Took you long enough," scoffed Syngaard from above the paladin. Looking up, Galen saw a familiar scarred face peering down at him from a point above the fighter's slain body. Syngaard was floating in midair, dressed in his adventuring gear: armor, shield, weapons hanging from his belt - and the fighter's translucence told Galen it wasn't Syngaard's <em>boots of levitation</em> keeping him aloft.</p><p></p><p>But the conscripts weren't the only spirits in the tavern. Hirek was there, standing in the corner, and as they looked over at him Alan the ghost-raven - Alexandros' former familiar - manifested on one of the back tables nearby. "Welcome," said Hirek. "It is time."</p><p></p><p>With that announcement, three more spirits manifested in the tavern, each flowing out from a conscript's weapon. The hybrid dragon Tenryu coalesced into her human form after having exited Kaspar's <em>tenryutsume</em>; Osleth likewise manifested from Orion's <em>nightflame short sword</em>; from the <em>sword of Zehkar</em> held in Galen's hand came the namesake paladin, brother to Alexandros the Mithral Mage.</p><p></p><p>"You must have questions," said Osleth. "Let me tell you what you can expect. No doubt you can already feel the pull of the osteovox; as you are dead and know the Mithral Mage's true name, you will be bound into it. But you should be able to resist its pull for several minutes yet - long enough for us to tell you of the plan and for you to make the necessary preparations."</p><p></p><p>Alan took up the narrative. "Once you're pulled into the osteovox, you will first experience a manifest zone where you must face your own personal nightmares before being allowed access to the inner maze of the phylactery. Once beyond that zone, you must find and free the essences of the five Jakuran gods Alexandros overcame. Without those essences protecting it, you should be able to then find and destroy the sliver of Elder Brain holding the entire phylactery together."</p><p></p><p>"Sounds simple enough," said Syngaard, looking forward to the part where he'd get to smash an illithid Elder Brain. He was confident his enchanted morningstar would be the perfect weapon for that sort of destruction - it actually sounded kind of fun!</p><p></p><p>"There are five of us and five of you," pointed out Osleth. "That is no coincidence. Each of you will be protected from the will-draining effects of the phylactery by the sacrifice of one of us who knew Alexandros in life. Our essences will infuse your spirit-bodies and be drained in your stead. This will also provide you the effects of a full day's rest, allowing those of you with the ability to do so to prepare your spells anew."</p><p></p><p>"Some magic works a little different, now that you're, in effect, ghosts," explained Alan. "While you'll still have access to all the possessions you had on you when you died, the spirit versions of your healing items will deal negative energy instead of positive; this will have the same effect on you here as positive energy had on you in life." He turned his avian head to look directly at Galen. "That means your positive energy spells and effects will now channel negative energy instead, that you may still heal your undead forms."</p><p></p><p>"Undead," repeated Galen with a frown, clearly not liking the fact that he was now technically an undead creature. He felt befouled, unclean.</p><p></p><p>"I can feel the pull getting stronger," pointed out Kaspar.</p><p></p><p>"If you would cast spells before being separated to go to your individual nightmares, now would be the time to do so," advised Alan.</p><p></p><p>"Individual nightmares, huh?" asked Syngaard. "Say, did I ever mention my crippling fear of friendly puppies?" But while the bald fighter prattled nonsense, Daleth and Galen began a flurry of spellcasting. The elf cast the standard <em>Rary's telepathic bond</em> spell upon the entire group and both a <em>stoneskin</em> and <em>magic circle against evil</em> upon himself, then followed up with a new spell he'd never yet tried: <em>spell turning</em> - on himself, of course. Galen, in the meantime, cast <em>bless weapon</em> upon the <em>sword of Zehkar</em> and the spells <em>protection from evil</em>, <em>resist cold</em>, and <em>resist fire</em> on himself. Orion passed a ghostly <em>scroll of stoneskin</em> to Daleth to have him cast the spell on her.</p><p></p><p>The spellcasting complete, the five former companions of Alexandros each stepped into the conscript with which he or she was most closely identified: Zehkar into Galen, Osleth into Orion, Tenryu into Kaspar, Alan into Daleth, and Hirek into Syngaard. The sensation was a brief tingling, then there was nothing to indicate the merging had even happened.</p><p></p><p>"It's very strong now," said Kaspar, eyes closed and straining his elven senses to the fullest. And then in a blink, he was gone. Daleth vanished next, followed by Galen and Syngaard. "Wait, what about Car--" began Orion before being cut off in mid-question.</p><p></p><p>But her unfinished question was answered when in the mere blink of an eye, the halfling found herself in her childhood home - and sitting in Carl's <em>ghost touch saddle</em> once more. She was glad for the presence of her faithful steed, for if she were going to face her greatest nightmare it was comforting to know she wouldn't be facing it alone. And the fact that Carl hadn't ever been to her childhood home meant this was no reliving of a memory, but some scenario concocted specifically to frighten her.</p><p></p><p>Turning Carl about in the small room, Orion saw her parents suddenly standing before her, a glint of red in their eyes. "It's your turn now, honey," they said in unison as daggers formed into their right hands. They smiled wickedly at this pronouncement, their smiles seeming to spread much wider than should be possible on halfling faces.</p><p></p><p>"You're not real!" Orion cried, reaching down into her <em>bag of holding</em> for a pair of tanglefoot bags. It wasn't entirely clear what she meant, whether her announcement was a comment on the fact that she realized this was all just a wild dreamscape conjured from the osteovox cloud or whether she recognized that these were not representations of her now-dead parents but rather of the doppelgangers who had slain them and taken their forms when she was much younger. Regardless, her aim was true and the tanglefoot bags exploded upon impact on the chests of Orion's faux parents, the gooey interior of the bags forming a stiff, hardening shell on the two targets but failing to cement them in place upon the wooden floor of the halfling dwelling. Still, the action slowed their movements enough that they barely had time to get within range of their daughter before Orion had managed to scramble from Carl's back and flank around behind her mother. The doppelgangers now had two separate targets to deal with, and while Carl snapped at the elder halfling woman, Orion was able to send her <em>nightflame short sword</em> striking deep into her mother's back.</p><p></p><p>Orion's father tried stepping behind his daughter to deal her a similar blow, but Orion was having none of that; she spun around on her heels and instead gave him a taste of her blade as well. Then she wheeled back to face her mother and dealt her a death-blow while the older woman struggled to get the arm holding her dagger free from Carl's mouth. She cried out in pain and vanished - rather like a ghost, Orion thought in hindsight - but not before her features blurred enough to confirm Orion's suspicions that she was fighting doppelgangers. The first enemy slain, Carl leaped over to confront Orion's father as he slashed his blade at his daughter.</p><p></p><p>The halfling male's dagger hit Orion several times in rapid succession, but each strike dealt the little halfling no real harm, merely stripping off some of the defenses from her active <em>stoneskin</em> spell. But he had no such defenses in place, and Orion's short sword stabbed out at him again and again, drawing blood with each strike. Finally, he staggered backwards and fell to the ground, changing shape as he did so. It was a halfling male Orion had stabbed but a doppelganger who landed on the floor before vanishing altogether.</p><p></p><p>Carl bounded over to his mistress and licked her face, glad to be able to connect with her without the halfling being in the magic saddle that was normally required to allow a living being to interact with a ghost. This might have been a living nightmare for Orion but to Carl it was a much better scenario than usual! Orion took advantage of the opportunity to give her trusty steed a good rub between his ears and on his belly before leaping back into the saddle and seeing what would happen next.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>"You are unworthy to wield the <em>tenryutsume</em>! spat the woman, advancing from the back of the temple.</p><p></p><p>Kaspar looked around him, recognizing his surroundings immediately: it was the testing ground where he had once fought for the right to wield Tenryu's powerful weapon. But he had beaten the black-clad woman once (albeit with the help of his companions) then; he was certain he could do so again.</p><p></p><p>Not wasting any breath on a response, the elven monk allowed his body to do the talking for him, speeding forward and striking at his opponent with the speed of a cobra. He had attempted a stunning blow, but while the strike met its target she managed to turn with the blow and prevent herself from being stunned. She retaliated in full force; since Kaspar had stepped up to her she was already in place to send a flurry of blows his way: a hard stab with the side of her hand, a knee kick, followed by a twirling twist in place that sent an elbow to Kaspar's face. But he slapped her striking hand to the side, dodged the incoming knee, and rolled with the elbow strike, spinning in place and kicking out with his own leg to drop her to the ground. She leaped over the sweeping appendage, but it had been a feint on his part to get her into position; while she was airborne, leaping over his out-thrust leg, he caught her hard in the face with a stunning open-palm strike. She staggered as she landed back on the temple floor, barely remaining upright as Kaspar let loose with a barrage of his most powerful strikes, each blow further enhanced by the power of the <em>tenryutsume</em> he wore on his right hand. Stunned by his face-strike, the female monk couldn't even put up a fight against the rapid-fire barrage of blows Kaspar sent her way. When he was done he leapt back into a defensive stance, ready for her expected counterattack.</p><p></p><p>But the counterattack never came. The woman stood there, dazed, then fell forward to crash face-first onto the floor before Kaspar. He stood, knees flexed and his stance low to the ground, one hand raised ready to strike in case this was a feint, but it became readily apparent that she was really slain when her body dissolved into mist and dissipated into the air.</p><p></p><p>Kaspar stood to his full height and turned about, seeking any further enemies. But of additional foes there were none; this single fight against the evil monk who would wield the <em>tenryutsume</em> for evil purposes was apparently all he need face.</p><p></p><p>There was a door before him; if memory served, this would lead back to his home temple, where he had spent years training before becoming conscripted into the service of King Leornic. Kaspar strode over to the door and opened it.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>Daleth stood at the back of a ship that he'd never seen before, yet which seemed oddly familiar to him. The ship was far out to sea, for no land masses were visible in any direction, just infinite, interminable waves beneath a cloudy sky that looked ready to pour down rain at any moment.</p><p></p><p>A female elf stood before him, a rapier in her hand; without knowing how, he realized this was his first mate. Behind her, on the red-stained deck, lay the rest of the crew, all apparently dead. Weapons lay scattered on the deck all about them; it would seem they went down fighting, at the very least.</p><p></p><p>The woman's rapier came forward with amazing speed, stabbing at Daleth's midsection. But while the blow struck, it came up against the <em>stoneskin</em> spell protecting the elven wizard; furthermore, it triggered the defensive properties of the <em>Stormsea robe</em> he wore - a creation of his grandfather Lethad, whom he had never recalled actually meeting - and a surge of electricity traveled up the rapier's narrow blade to blast the elven swordswoman.</p><p></p><p>Daleth took an instinctive step back as the words to the <em>fly</em> spell passed his lips and the woman stabbed out at him again, apparently not having learned her lesson about his robe's electrical properties - or perhaps believing it was but a one-time effect. Strands of her hair loose from her simple ponytail repelled outwards from her head as her body once again conducted a small surge of electricity upon her sword making contact with Daleth's magic robe. But then he was gone, leaping backwards over the back rail of the vessel and into the sky behind and above the ship.</p><p></p><p>Daleth's eyebrows raised in silent surprise as the first mate followed him into the sky; it was only afterward he noticed the wings at the heels of her supple leather boots. Again she stabbed at him with her rapier; again his <em>stoneskin</em> spell absorbed almost all of the blow; again the murderous crewmate was zapped with an electrical charge from Daleth's robes.</p><p></p><p>Smiling at the momentary thought, Daleth half-considered remaining in place and allowing the woman to zap herself to death, for it seemed each of her attacks dealt her more damage than they did him, but that seemed too easy (and potentially boring) a way to deal with this unusual situation. So, taking his own fate into his hands, he cast a <em>cone of cold</em> spell directly at the elven woman. She cried out in surprise and pain and then, fury written all over her face, retaliated with a rapid series of painful blows with the point of her rapier.</p><p></p><p>Painful to her, that was - for while she was successfully whittling down the defensive abilities of Daleth's <em>stoneskin</em> spell, at this rate she'd be slain long before the wizard was in any real peril from her weapon. At the end of her attacks, her hair was sticking out all over and Daleth could see burn-marks on her skin from the repeated zaps of electricity she'd triggered. With almost a look of embarrassment, he raised his <em>metamagic rod of empower spell</em> and channeled a low-level <em>magic missile</em> spell through it, reasoning - quite rightly, as it turned out - that the simple spell would be enough to finish her off.</p><p></p><p>The first mate stiffened in shock and then plummeted straight down into the ocean, hit with a splash, and vanished silently beneath the waves.</p><p></p><p>Daleth flew back to the ship, lacking any other practical options: there was nothing but roiling ocean everywhere else he looked. Landing on the bloody deck, he spent a moment or two examining the slain bodies of the dead crewmen on the slippery decks - again, some of them almost seemed familiar, although he couldn't for the life of him place them - and reached for the door leading below-decks.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>Syngaard found himself in all-too-familiar surroundings and immediately closed his eyes in momentary grief. He could hear the crackling of the flames before him as the cabin he'd worked so hard to build all those years ago slowly burned to the ground, set fire by his own hand. And speaking of his own hand, his left one was filled with a likewise familiar weight; opening his eyes again, he looked down and saw his newborn daughter Hope nestled in the crook of his left arm, wrapped in the scrap of blanket he'd fetched from the cabin before setting the structure ablaze. It was, for the most part, just as he'd remembered - although this time he was in his full battle gear and the arm cradling his newborn daughter also had his shield strapped to it.</p><p></p><p>A scream emanated from within the flames. It was a woman's scream, filled with equal parts fury, hatred, and pain. Syngaard recognized it at once: it was that of Mezz, although he'd never heard her scream in such a way when she was still alive.</p><p></p><p>"So you're throwing Mezz at me, huh?" Syngaard called out to the skies above - to whoever was running this mindscape. "I already faced my 'inner demons' or whatever before! I know this ain't my Mezz! So come on--bring it!"</p><p></p><p>The door to the cabin burst open and there in the open doorway was...well, one thing for sure, it definitely wasn't Mezz. It was a burning figure with Messalina Maladucci's - screw that, with Messalina <em>Syngaard</em>'s face and hair, but a body made entirely of flames. It looked like nothing so much as one of those fire elementals they'd fought in the mines up in the Baator's Breath Mountains, only one with the size, shape, and build of Syngaard's dead wife.</p><p></p><p>This flaming Mezz struck out at her scar-faced husband with a fiery fist which the fighter caught on the edge of his shield, jostling the baby. Okay, he thought, this is all just pretend - this ain't really Hope here in my arm, she's back in Skevros' extradimensional manor in the back room of the <em>Enchanted Flagon</em> - but damn if it didn't feel real! With a snort of disgust, Syngaard realized he didn't have it within himself to <em>not</em> act as if this were indeed the real Hope, all but minutes old after a premature birth that caused the death of her mother.</p><p></p><p>Fine then, he decided. He'd fight this flame-beast with Mezz's face while keeping the pretend-Hope safe from harm. He brought his morningstar swinging in a powerful arc that sent its weapon-head crashing into the fire elemental's flaming side. And not wanting the distraction, he was sure to keep his gaze on the thing's fiery body, away from the lovely face Syngaard knew all too well he could willingly look at forever.</p><p></p><p>The fire elemental wearing Mezz's face and form pressed the attack, slamming the fighter with her flailing arms, and every so often one of the attacks got past his guard - but never to the point where the sleeping Hope felt a thing. And the bald fighter brought his morningstar crashing down on the face-stealing elemental again and again; in the end, it was the fact that Syngaard's rage and more powerful build allowed him to deal more damage to the elemental than it could do to him that made the outcome a foregone conclusion. With the final blow, the fake Mezz snuffed out of existence like a blown-out candle flame. Moments later, so did the fake Hope; Syngaard had been sure she was just a mind-construct and would disappear at the end of the fight, but he was still sad to see her go when she too disappeared. He'd only really been able to hold her that one time, in the trek from the burning cabin to the temple of Pelor, and Syngaard found he had missed holding his daughter in his arms.</p><p></p><p>It was only when he was once again all alone that he even noticed he was on fire, flames burning his fighting arm from one or more of the elemental's attacks. "Crap!" he called, dropping to the ground and smothering the flames. The fire extinguished, he rose back to his feet, retrieved his dropped morningstar, and saw the flames were now also gone from his smoking cabin. He approached the open doorway, wanting to see if Mezz was still there wrapped in the blanket he'd put her in before setting their home on fire; if nothing else, it would be good to see her face again. But as he stepped through the doorway he suddenly disappeared.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>Galen stood before a pile of bodies: robed clergymen of the order of Hieroneous, judging not only from the God of Valor's symbol worn on chains around their necks but from the fact that he recognized several of their faces from his own days of training. And standing among them, her sword dripping their life-blood, stood Mother Valorie, the head paladin of Galen's temple. This was a version of Mother Valorie he'd never seen, a look of wanton blood lust on her grinning face and the black armor of a servant of Hextor covering her body from neck to toe.</p><p></p><p>She said not a word as she rushed to her former student, swinging a black-bladed sword at Galen's right side, where it was harder to get his shield up in time. He felt the sword crash into his side - and more importantly, felt it discharge the evil power Mother Valorie had channeled from Hextor, God of Tyranny. While he countered with a blow of his own, he failed to discharge the Hieronean energy he had imbued into the <em>sword of Zehkar</em> - distracted, perhaps, by the powerful taint of evil he saw filling his weapon-master's aura.</p><p></p><p>The two continued their battle-dance, each one repeatedly striking the other who wore the symbol of their most hated god around their necks and on their shields. Over the course of the battle, each was worn down at a nearly equal rate, until Galen realized he had a choice: he could back off and apply Hieroneous' healing touch to himself and close up most of the wounds he had gained in this battle - or he could press the attack and hope to finish off his opponent before she finished him. Judging from her stance, it seemed she still had a bit more vigor than he did; the smart thing to do would be to drop back and give himself a breather for the moment it would take to at least partially heal himself.</p><p></p><p>Instead, placing his future in the hands of his god, he sent his blade coursing down toward his foe in an overhead swing, the sword charged with his final smiting attack he'd be able to channel this day. If this attack didn't kill her he was likely going to be in a world of hurt....</p><p></p><p>With an arrogant sneer, Mother Valorie caught Galen's blow on her shield and pushed it to the side. The Hieronean paladin staggered to the side as well, off balance and unable to defend the incoming swing of the blackguard's hellsteel blade....</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>Kaspar stepped through the door and found himself not back into his old temple, as he'd expected, but a completely different building also very familiar to him: the <em>Enchanted Flagon</em>. His gaze was drawn to the table where he expected to see the bodies of the five conscripts, but they were not present - nor was Karen, or the celestial being who had so recently taken her form. Burt and Todd were likewise missing. But there, sitting in the chair at Skevros' customary place, sat Alexandros the Mithral Mage in his human guise.</p><p></p><p>As Kaspar dropped to a defensive stance, ready to leap away from whatever spell the lich might throw in his direction, Alexandros just looked up and smiled weakly. "You're finally here to free me from my nightmare," he said. "We have much to discuss, but first it seems your friend is struggling." He waved a hand at the the door through which Kaspar had just entered. "Go to his aid, before he is trapped forever in his own nightmare."</p><p></p><p>Confused at this turn of events, Kaspar recalled the <em>Rary's telepathic bond</em> Daleth had cast upon them earlier. <Galen?> he called, stepping back to the door. <I am coming!></p><p></p><p>Mother Valorie's black blade came rushing down toward the back of Galen's unprotected head but then veered wildly away as a blur of motion nearby caused the blackguard to crumple and fall, taken down by a powerful blow from Kaspar's <em>tenryutsume</em>. Her armored body silently dissipated to nothingness before even striking the floor.</p><p></p><p>"Are you all right?" asked Kaspar, holding out a hand to steady the paladin.</p><p></p><p>"I will be," Galen confirmed, causing his hand to glow with healing energy and applying it to the worst of his wounds. "Thanks for the save, Kaspar - I owe you one." He shuddered at the thought of how close he had been to defeat. But then, he had put his fate into the hands of Hieroneous and the God of Valor had seen fit to send Kaspar his way when he was needed most.</p><p></p><p>Inside the <em>Enchanted Flagon</em> replica, the door opened and Daleth stepped forward. "What--?" he sputtered, recognizing Alexandros at once and paling at the thought of having to face him alone.</p><p></p><p><It's okay, Daleth,> came Kaspar's telepathic assurance, as he and Galen stepped through the open doorway behind him. The monk finished his thought aloud: "Alexandros is not here to fight us."</p><p></p><p>Orion entered the tavern next, followed by Syngaard. The scarred fighter raised his morningstar reflexively, ready to attack. But Galen grabbed his arm. "Let's hear what he has to say," the paladin suggested. Then he turned to the silver-robed figure and asked, "Who exactly are you? You can't really be the real Alexandros."</p><p></p><p>"But I am - in a way," the figure replied. "I am what little remains of Alexandros' goodness. You see, when a lich creates a phylactery the good part of its soul must remain bound within it, to anchor the rest of the lich's soul to the Material Plane. That is why liches are always evil."</p><p></p><p>"Skevros is a lich - well, sort of," amended Orion. "And he's not evil."</p><p></p><p>"True, but he is an exception to the rule, since he was restored to goodness before completing the ritual; hence his half-living state."</p><p></p><p>"So this is all part of your phylactery?" asked Daleth, waving a hand to indicate the tavern's interior.</p><p></p><p>"It is, yes. This whole place is a sort of demiplane, a 'pocket dimension' if you will."</p><p></p><p>"Like inside our <em>bags of holding</em>," suggested Kaspar.</p><p></p><p>"Yes, although my phylactery covers a much greater area. And there are other differences as well: time flows faster here, for one thing. What feels like a full month will pass in here while only a single day's span occurs on the Material Plane. While my lich-body will reform out there in the outer world in a week, that means seven months of subjective time here inside the phylactery."</p><p></p><p>"Weird," commented Syngaard.</p><p></p><p>"The bulk of the phylactery is normally an ever-shifting maze of pathways; however, that defense is only to keep souls from escaping. Since you won't be trying to escape, you will find it much easier to reach your goal of finding the Jakuren god-essences."</p><p></p><p>"These are the captured deities of Mikito's people?" asked Daleth.</p><p></p><p>"They are: the elemental gods of the Western Wind, the Southern Mountain, the Eastern Sea, and the Northern Flame. A fifth god of honor rules over the four elemental gods."</p><p></p><p>"They got names?" Syngaard asked.</p><p> </p><p>"No doubt, but the Mithral Mage never bothered to learn their names before slaying them and stealing their essences and thus they are unknown to me. The fifth god-essence is protecting the elder brain sliver that holds the demiplane together and it is hidden by the power of the four elemental gods."</p><p></p><p>"So we gotta take out the elemental gods first, and then we can go find the fifth god and smash the elder brain," reasoned Syngaard.</p><p></p><p>"That is correct. And you will have seven months of subjective time to finish the task."</p><p></p><p>"Kill five gods and smash up a brain that can't even move. Sounds like a plan - let's go!"</p><p></p><p>Galen raised a hand to the scarred fighter. "Syngaard, wait. We must rest up so we can replenish our spells and heal up. We'll need to be at our full strength if we're to take on the might of four elemental gods at once."</p><p></p><p>Syngaard sighed, setting his morningstar down upon the table and taking a seat. "Fine," he acquiesced, sounding all put out about it but secretly admitting that getting the burns on his right arm taken are of wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing at all.</p><p></p><p>"Hey, this place got any ale?" he asked.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>So, Logan surprised us all again: I think this is the first time our weekly adventure started up immediately after the previous week's adventure - he had even kept the PC tracking sheet with which spells had been used and so on so he could pick up from exactly where we had left off. And now he informs us that the next two adventures will take place inside the phylactery: next session we deal with the four elemental gods and the one after that we'll fight the Jakuran god of honor and take out the elder brain sliver. And that will take care of the Mithral Mage permanently (assuming we can get that all done within the next seven months of subjective time).</p><p></p><p>Daleth leveled up at the end of this adventure, so for the first time ever in this campaign we'll all be at the same level. That'll be different!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 7644986, member: 508"] [b]ADVENTURE 54: GHOSTS OF THE OSTEOVOX[/b] PC Roster: [INDENT]Daleth Stormsea, elf wizard 16 Galen Thorne, human paladin 17 Kaspar Hardstrike, elf monk 17 Orion Nightsky, halfling rogue 17 Syngaard, human fighter 17[/INDENT] Game Session Date: 31 July 2019 - - - Kaspar spoke the command word to the [i]ring of return[/i] and the conscripts [i]teleported[/i] just outside the gates of the capital city of Durnhill. They walked through the gates and saw Mikito and Anuja helping to break down the shadowscale kobolds' tents and pack them up for their return to their swampland homes. "Skevros saw your success in the cave of the dragon," Mikito informed them. "You are to provide..." - and here she stumbled on the black dragon's difficult name - "...Three-er-nar-icks...the coins from her mother's hoard. She awaits you at the tavern." Sure enough, the black dragon stood just outside the [i]Enchanted Flagon[/i], awaiting the return of the heroes she had sent to slay her older sister. "You have succeeded," she said. "We're here, ain't we?" Syngaard replied. "And we gotcher coins an' all." Orion opened her [i]bag of holding[/i] and started emptying its contents on the ground. Seeing the pile growing beyond what a dragon in human form would be able to easily carry, Kaspar opened up his own [i]bag of holding[/i], emptied it of its own meager contents, and offered it to Thriirnaryx as a means to carry the combined hoard from her mother's lair. She nodded in gratitude and said she would have one of her kobold minions return it to the elven monk once the treasure had been returned to her own lair. Then, lifting the borrowed sack over her shoulder, she made her way to the southern gates to join her kobold tribe of followers. "It's good to be back," remarked Galen as he led the way into the [i]Enchanted Flagon[/i]. "I, for one, could use a drink." "Same here," replied Syngaard. "Karen!" he called, looking at the back of the tavern where the spell-effect barmaid usually stood when not otherwise needed. But Karen was in the front of the room and closed and locked the front door once all of the conscripts - as well as Burt, Carl, and Todd - had entered. "As it is written, so it shall be," she intoned in a regal, feminine voice - which in itself was somewhat surprising, given that Skevros had never given the barmaid vocal abilities; she was simply a permanent illusion spell cast upon a permanent [i]unseen servant[/i] spell. "Today is the day you die." Expecting the worst - an enemy in their headquarters disguised as their barmaid - Galen and Syngaard whipped out their weapons, ready to attack. The paladin concentrated on Karen's aura. "She's not evil," he announced, lowering his unsheathed longsword. "Who are you?" he demanded. "My name is [b]Saraphael[/b]," replied the barmaid. "I have been sent to ensure your deaths, that you may destroy the lich Alexandros permanently - now, after his temporary death at your hands, and before he has the time to remanifest into the mortal world." "You're here to kill us?" asked Orion, astride her ghost-dog Carl. Her hand strayed close to the [i]bag of blades[/i] tied to the side of the saddle. "It is a necessary step in the plan - but I can assure you your deaths will be but temporary; at the proper time, you will be returned to the mortal world." "Works for me," Syngaard piped up. "We gotta take out the Mithral Mage's phylactery from the inside - that's what Hirek said, remember? We don't do that, we ain't never movin' on to our normal afterlives when we die for good." He took his seat at the table and turned to Saraphael. "What do we gotta do?" "Merely accept your fate and close your eyes." Syngaard didn't hesitate a moment; he closed his eyes and a slight smile crossed his scarred face at the thought that he was actively taking steps to ensure his eventual reunion with Messalina, his slain wife. "What of Todd?" asked Daleth as he and the other men took their seats around the table. "Will he be coming with us?" "Only the five of you," replied Saraphael. "Todd and Burt will remain here with me to stand watch over your bodies while your spirits do what must be done." "And Carl?" asked Orion. "Carl is already capable of going where you will go." Orion nodded in satisfaction and climbed down out of the saddle. "See you soon, Carl," she said, keeping one hand on the [i]ghost touch saddle[/i] long enough to rub the dog's fur behind his ears. Then she climbed up onto one of the chairs around the main table, joining the others. Syngaard's body had already slumped forward and the little halfing saw no signs of respiration in his unmoving frame. She took a deep breath and told herself to be brave: if the great oaf could face his death with so little reservation, then so could she! Closing her eyes, she accepted that this was a necessary act. She fell forward onto the table as if asleep, but her breathing ceased entirely. The elves, Daleth and Kaspar, followed suit, leaving only Galen sitting there at the table among a quartet of now-dead adventuring companions. "Hieroneous, guide and protect us," he intoned before closing his eyes and falling forward in his seat. "Took you long enough," scoffed Syngaard from above the paladin. Looking up, Galen saw a familiar scarred face peering down at him from a point above the fighter's slain body. Syngaard was floating in midair, dressed in his adventuring gear: armor, shield, weapons hanging from his belt - and the fighter's translucence told Galen it wasn't Syngaard's [i]boots of levitation[/i] keeping him aloft. But the conscripts weren't the only spirits in the tavern. Hirek was there, standing in the corner, and as they looked over at him Alan the ghost-raven - Alexandros' former familiar - manifested on one of the back tables nearby. "Welcome," said Hirek. "It is time." With that announcement, three more spirits manifested in the tavern, each flowing out from a conscript's weapon. The hybrid dragon Tenryu coalesced into her human form after having exited Kaspar's [i]tenryutsume[/i]; Osleth likewise manifested from Orion's [i]nightflame short sword[/i]; from the [i]sword of Zehkar[/i] held in Galen's hand came the namesake paladin, brother to Alexandros the Mithral Mage. "You must have questions," said Osleth. "Let me tell you what you can expect. No doubt you can already feel the pull of the osteovox; as you are dead and know the Mithral Mage's true name, you will be bound into it. But you should be able to resist its pull for several minutes yet - long enough for us to tell you of the plan and for you to make the necessary preparations." Alan took up the narrative. "Once you're pulled into the osteovox, you will first experience a manifest zone where you must face your own personal nightmares before being allowed access to the inner maze of the phylactery. Once beyond that zone, you must find and free the essences of the five Jakuran gods Alexandros overcame. Without those essences protecting it, you should be able to then find and destroy the sliver of Elder Brain holding the entire phylactery together." "Sounds simple enough," said Syngaard, looking forward to the part where he'd get to smash an illithid Elder Brain. He was confident his enchanted morningstar would be the perfect weapon for that sort of destruction - it actually sounded kind of fun! "There are five of us and five of you," pointed out Osleth. "That is no coincidence. Each of you will be protected from the will-draining effects of the phylactery by the sacrifice of one of us who knew Alexandros in life. Our essences will infuse your spirit-bodies and be drained in your stead. This will also provide you the effects of a full day's rest, allowing those of you with the ability to do so to prepare your spells anew." "Some magic works a little different, now that you're, in effect, ghosts," explained Alan. "While you'll still have access to all the possessions you had on you when you died, the spirit versions of your healing items will deal negative energy instead of positive; this will have the same effect on you here as positive energy had on you in life." He turned his avian head to look directly at Galen. "That means your positive energy spells and effects will now channel negative energy instead, that you may still heal your undead forms." "Undead," repeated Galen with a frown, clearly not liking the fact that he was now technically an undead creature. He felt befouled, unclean. "I can feel the pull getting stronger," pointed out Kaspar. "If you would cast spells before being separated to go to your individual nightmares, now would be the time to do so," advised Alan. "Individual nightmares, huh?" asked Syngaard. "Say, did I ever mention my crippling fear of friendly puppies?" But while the bald fighter prattled nonsense, Daleth and Galen began a flurry of spellcasting. The elf cast the standard [i]Rary's telepathic bond[/i] spell upon the entire group and both a [i]stoneskin[/i] and [i]magic circle against evil[/i] upon himself, then followed up with a new spell he'd never yet tried: [i]spell turning[/i] - on himself, of course. Galen, in the meantime, cast [i]bless weapon[/i] upon the [i]sword of Zehkar[/i] and the spells [i]protection from evil[/i], [i]resist cold[/i], and [i]resist fire[/i] on himself. Orion passed a ghostly [i]scroll of stoneskin[/i] to Daleth to have him cast the spell on her. The spellcasting complete, the five former companions of Alexandros each stepped into the conscript with which he or she was most closely identified: Zehkar into Galen, Osleth into Orion, Tenryu into Kaspar, Alan into Daleth, and Hirek into Syngaard. The sensation was a brief tingling, then there was nothing to indicate the merging had even happened. "It's very strong now," said Kaspar, eyes closed and straining his elven senses to the fullest. And then in a blink, he was gone. Daleth vanished next, followed by Galen and Syngaard. "Wait, what about Car--" began Orion before being cut off in mid-question. But her unfinished question was answered when in the mere blink of an eye, the halfling found herself in her childhood home - and sitting in Carl's [i]ghost touch saddle[/i] once more. She was glad for the presence of her faithful steed, for if she were going to face her greatest nightmare it was comforting to know she wouldn't be facing it alone. And the fact that Carl hadn't ever been to her childhood home meant this was no reliving of a memory, but some scenario concocted specifically to frighten her. Turning Carl about in the small room, Orion saw her parents suddenly standing before her, a glint of red in their eyes. "It's your turn now, honey," they said in unison as daggers formed into their right hands. They smiled wickedly at this pronouncement, their smiles seeming to spread much wider than should be possible on halfling faces. "You're not real!" Orion cried, reaching down into her [i]bag of holding[/i] for a pair of tanglefoot bags. It wasn't entirely clear what she meant, whether her announcement was a comment on the fact that she realized this was all just a wild dreamscape conjured from the osteovox cloud or whether she recognized that these were not representations of her now-dead parents but rather of the doppelgangers who had slain them and taken their forms when she was much younger. Regardless, her aim was true and the tanglefoot bags exploded upon impact on the chests of Orion's faux parents, the gooey interior of the bags forming a stiff, hardening shell on the two targets but failing to cement them in place upon the wooden floor of the halfling dwelling. Still, the action slowed their movements enough that they barely had time to get within range of their daughter before Orion had managed to scramble from Carl's back and flank around behind her mother. The doppelgangers now had two separate targets to deal with, and while Carl snapped at the elder halfling woman, Orion was able to send her [i]nightflame short sword[/i] striking deep into her mother's back. Orion's father tried stepping behind his daughter to deal her a similar blow, but Orion was having none of that; she spun around on her heels and instead gave him a taste of her blade as well. Then she wheeled back to face her mother and dealt her a death-blow while the older woman struggled to get the arm holding her dagger free from Carl's mouth. She cried out in pain and vanished - rather like a ghost, Orion thought in hindsight - but not before her features blurred enough to confirm Orion's suspicions that she was fighting doppelgangers. The first enemy slain, Carl leaped over to confront Orion's father as he slashed his blade at his daughter. The halfling male's dagger hit Orion several times in rapid succession, but each strike dealt the little halfling no real harm, merely stripping off some of the defenses from her active [i]stoneskin[/i] spell. But he had no such defenses in place, and Orion's short sword stabbed out at him again and again, drawing blood with each strike. Finally, he staggered backwards and fell to the ground, changing shape as he did so. It was a halfling male Orion had stabbed but a doppelganger who landed on the floor before vanishing altogether. Carl bounded over to his mistress and licked her face, glad to be able to connect with her without the halfling being in the magic saddle that was normally required to allow a living being to interact with a ghost. This might have been a living nightmare for Orion but to Carl it was a much better scenario than usual! Orion took advantage of the opportunity to give her trusty steed a good rub between his ears and on his belly before leaping back into the saddle and seeing what would happen next. - - - "You are unworthy to wield the [i]tenryutsume[/i]! spat the woman, advancing from the back of the temple. Kaspar looked around him, recognizing his surroundings immediately: it was the testing ground where he had once fought for the right to wield Tenryu's powerful weapon. But he had beaten the black-clad woman once (albeit with the help of his companions) then; he was certain he could do so again. Not wasting any breath on a response, the elven monk allowed his body to do the talking for him, speeding forward and striking at his opponent with the speed of a cobra. He had attempted a stunning blow, but while the strike met its target she managed to turn with the blow and prevent herself from being stunned. She retaliated in full force; since Kaspar had stepped up to her she was already in place to send a flurry of blows his way: a hard stab with the side of her hand, a knee kick, followed by a twirling twist in place that sent an elbow to Kaspar's face. But he slapped her striking hand to the side, dodged the incoming knee, and rolled with the elbow strike, spinning in place and kicking out with his own leg to drop her to the ground. She leaped over the sweeping appendage, but it had been a feint on his part to get her into position; while she was airborne, leaping over his out-thrust leg, he caught her hard in the face with a stunning open-palm strike. She staggered as she landed back on the temple floor, barely remaining upright as Kaspar let loose with a barrage of his most powerful strikes, each blow further enhanced by the power of the [i]tenryutsume[/i] he wore on his right hand. Stunned by his face-strike, the female monk couldn't even put up a fight against the rapid-fire barrage of blows Kaspar sent her way. When he was done he leapt back into a defensive stance, ready for her expected counterattack. But the counterattack never came. The woman stood there, dazed, then fell forward to crash face-first onto the floor before Kaspar. He stood, knees flexed and his stance low to the ground, one hand raised ready to strike in case this was a feint, but it became readily apparent that she was really slain when her body dissolved into mist and dissipated into the air. Kaspar stood to his full height and turned about, seeking any further enemies. But of additional foes there were none; this single fight against the evil monk who would wield the [i]tenryutsume[/i] for evil purposes was apparently all he need face. There was a door before him; if memory served, this would lead back to his home temple, where he had spent years training before becoming conscripted into the service of King Leornic. Kaspar strode over to the door and opened it. - - - Daleth stood at the back of a ship that he'd never seen before, yet which seemed oddly familiar to him. The ship was far out to sea, for no land masses were visible in any direction, just infinite, interminable waves beneath a cloudy sky that looked ready to pour down rain at any moment. A female elf stood before him, a rapier in her hand; without knowing how, he realized this was his first mate. Behind her, on the red-stained deck, lay the rest of the crew, all apparently dead. Weapons lay scattered on the deck all about them; it would seem they went down fighting, at the very least. The woman's rapier came forward with amazing speed, stabbing at Daleth's midsection. But while the blow struck, it came up against the [i]stoneskin[/i] spell protecting the elven wizard; furthermore, it triggered the defensive properties of the [i]Stormsea robe[/i] he wore - a creation of his grandfather Lethad, whom he had never recalled actually meeting - and a surge of electricity traveled up the rapier's narrow blade to blast the elven swordswoman. Daleth took an instinctive step back as the words to the [i]fly[/i] spell passed his lips and the woman stabbed out at him again, apparently not having learned her lesson about his robe's electrical properties - or perhaps believing it was but a one-time effect. Strands of her hair loose from her simple ponytail repelled outwards from her head as her body once again conducted a small surge of electricity upon her sword making contact with Daleth's magic robe. But then he was gone, leaping backwards over the back rail of the vessel and into the sky behind and above the ship. Daleth's eyebrows raised in silent surprise as the first mate followed him into the sky; it was only afterward he noticed the wings at the heels of her supple leather boots. Again she stabbed at him with her rapier; again his [i]stoneskin[/i] spell absorbed almost all of the blow; again the murderous crewmate was zapped with an electrical charge from Daleth's robes. Smiling at the momentary thought, Daleth half-considered remaining in place and allowing the woman to zap herself to death, for it seemed each of her attacks dealt her more damage than they did him, but that seemed too easy (and potentially boring) a way to deal with this unusual situation. So, taking his own fate into his hands, he cast a [i]cone of cold[/i] spell directly at the elven woman. She cried out in surprise and pain and then, fury written all over her face, retaliated with a rapid series of painful blows with the point of her rapier. Painful to her, that was - for while she was successfully whittling down the defensive abilities of Daleth's [i]stoneskin[/i] spell, at this rate she'd be slain long before the wizard was in any real peril from her weapon. At the end of her attacks, her hair was sticking out all over and Daleth could see burn-marks on her skin from the repeated zaps of electricity she'd triggered. With almost a look of embarrassment, he raised his [i]metamagic rod of empower spell[/i] and channeled a low-level [i]magic missile[/i] spell through it, reasoning - quite rightly, as it turned out - that the simple spell would be enough to finish her off. The first mate stiffened in shock and then plummeted straight down into the ocean, hit with a splash, and vanished silently beneath the waves. Daleth flew back to the ship, lacking any other practical options: there was nothing but roiling ocean everywhere else he looked. Landing on the bloody deck, he spent a moment or two examining the slain bodies of the dead crewmen on the slippery decks - again, some of them almost seemed familiar, although he couldn't for the life of him place them - and reached for the door leading below-decks. - - - Syngaard found himself in all-too-familiar surroundings and immediately closed his eyes in momentary grief. He could hear the crackling of the flames before him as the cabin he'd worked so hard to build all those years ago slowly burned to the ground, set fire by his own hand. And speaking of his own hand, his left one was filled with a likewise familiar weight; opening his eyes again, he looked down and saw his newborn daughter Hope nestled in the crook of his left arm, wrapped in the scrap of blanket he'd fetched from the cabin before setting the structure ablaze. It was, for the most part, just as he'd remembered - although this time he was in his full battle gear and the arm cradling his newborn daughter also had his shield strapped to it. A scream emanated from within the flames. It was a woman's scream, filled with equal parts fury, hatred, and pain. Syngaard recognized it at once: it was that of Mezz, although he'd never heard her scream in such a way when she was still alive. "So you're throwing Mezz at me, huh?" Syngaard called out to the skies above - to whoever was running this mindscape. "I already faced my 'inner demons' or whatever before! I know this ain't my Mezz! So come on--bring it!" The door to the cabin burst open and there in the open doorway was...well, one thing for sure, it definitely wasn't Mezz. It was a burning figure with Messalina Maladucci's - screw that, with Messalina [i]Syngaard[/i]'s face and hair, but a body made entirely of flames. It looked like nothing so much as one of those fire elementals they'd fought in the mines up in the Baator's Breath Mountains, only one with the size, shape, and build of Syngaard's dead wife. This flaming Mezz struck out at her scar-faced husband with a fiery fist which the fighter caught on the edge of his shield, jostling the baby. Okay, he thought, this is all just pretend - this ain't really Hope here in my arm, she's back in Skevros' extradimensional manor in the back room of the [i]Enchanted Flagon[/i] - but damn if it didn't feel real! With a snort of disgust, Syngaard realized he didn't have it within himself to [i]not[/i] act as if this were indeed the real Hope, all but minutes old after a premature birth that caused the death of her mother. Fine then, he decided. He'd fight this flame-beast with Mezz's face while keeping the pretend-Hope safe from harm. He brought his morningstar swinging in a powerful arc that sent its weapon-head crashing into the fire elemental's flaming side. And not wanting the distraction, he was sure to keep his gaze on the thing's fiery body, away from the lovely face Syngaard knew all too well he could willingly look at forever. The fire elemental wearing Mezz's face and form pressed the attack, slamming the fighter with her flailing arms, and every so often one of the attacks got past his guard - but never to the point where the sleeping Hope felt a thing. And the bald fighter brought his morningstar crashing down on the face-stealing elemental again and again; in the end, it was the fact that Syngaard's rage and more powerful build allowed him to deal more damage to the elemental than it could do to him that made the outcome a foregone conclusion. With the final blow, the fake Mezz snuffed out of existence like a blown-out candle flame. Moments later, so did the fake Hope; Syngaard had been sure she was just a mind-construct and would disappear at the end of the fight, but he was still sad to see her go when she too disappeared. He'd only really been able to hold her that one time, in the trek from the burning cabin to the temple of Pelor, and Syngaard found he had missed holding his daughter in his arms. It was only when he was once again all alone that he even noticed he was on fire, flames burning his fighting arm from one or more of the elemental's attacks. "Crap!" he called, dropping to the ground and smothering the flames. The fire extinguished, he rose back to his feet, retrieved his dropped morningstar, and saw the flames were now also gone from his smoking cabin. He approached the open doorway, wanting to see if Mezz was still there wrapped in the blanket he'd put her in before setting their home on fire; if nothing else, it would be good to see her face again. But as he stepped through the doorway he suddenly disappeared. - - - Galen stood before a pile of bodies: robed clergymen of the order of Hieroneous, judging not only from the God of Valor's symbol worn on chains around their necks but from the fact that he recognized several of their faces from his own days of training. And standing among them, her sword dripping their life-blood, stood Mother Valorie, the head paladin of Galen's temple. This was a version of Mother Valorie he'd never seen, a look of wanton blood lust on her grinning face and the black armor of a servant of Hextor covering her body from neck to toe. She said not a word as she rushed to her former student, swinging a black-bladed sword at Galen's right side, where it was harder to get his shield up in time. He felt the sword crash into his side - and more importantly, felt it discharge the evil power Mother Valorie had channeled from Hextor, God of Tyranny. While he countered with a blow of his own, he failed to discharge the Hieronean energy he had imbued into the [i]sword of Zehkar[/i] - distracted, perhaps, by the powerful taint of evil he saw filling his weapon-master's aura. The two continued their battle-dance, each one repeatedly striking the other who wore the symbol of their most hated god around their necks and on their shields. Over the course of the battle, each was worn down at a nearly equal rate, until Galen realized he had a choice: he could back off and apply Hieroneous' healing touch to himself and close up most of the wounds he had gained in this battle - or he could press the attack and hope to finish off his opponent before she finished him. Judging from her stance, it seemed she still had a bit more vigor than he did; the smart thing to do would be to drop back and give himself a breather for the moment it would take to at least partially heal himself. Instead, placing his future in the hands of his god, he sent his blade coursing down toward his foe in an overhead swing, the sword charged with his final smiting attack he'd be able to channel this day. If this attack didn't kill her he was likely going to be in a world of hurt.... With an arrogant sneer, Mother Valorie caught Galen's blow on her shield and pushed it to the side. The Hieronean paladin staggered to the side as well, off balance and unable to defend the incoming swing of the blackguard's hellsteel blade.... - - - Kaspar stepped through the door and found himself not back into his old temple, as he'd expected, but a completely different building also very familiar to him: the [i]Enchanted Flagon[/i]. His gaze was drawn to the table where he expected to see the bodies of the five conscripts, but they were not present - nor was Karen, or the celestial being who had so recently taken her form. Burt and Todd were likewise missing. But there, sitting in the chair at Skevros' customary place, sat Alexandros the Mithral Mage in his human guise. As Kaspar dropped to a defensive stance, ready to leap away from whatever spell the lich might throw in his direction, Alexandros just looked up and smiled weakly. "You're finally here to free me from my nightmare," he said. "We have much to discuss, but first it seems your friend is struggling." He waved a hand at the the door through which Kaspar had just entered. "Go to his aid, before he is trapped forever in his own nightmare." Confused at this turn of events, Kaspar recalled the [i]Rary's telepathic bond[/i] Daleth had cast upon them earlier. <Galen?> he called, stepping back to the door. <I am coming!> Mother Valorie's black blade came rushing down toward the back of Galen's unprotected head but then veered wildly away as a blur of motion nearby caused the blackguard to crumple and fall, taken down by a powerful blow from Kaspar's [i]tenryutsume[/i]. Her armored body silently dissipated to nothingness before even striking the floor. "Are you all right?" asked Kaspar, holding out a hand to steady the paladin. "I will be," Galen confirmed, causing his hand to glow with healing energy and applying it to the worst of his wounds. "Thanks for the save, Kaspar - I owe you one." He shuddered at the thought of how close he had been to defeat. But then, he had put his fate into the hands of Hieroneous and the God of Valor had seen fit to send Kaspar his way when he was needed most. Inside the [i]Enchanted Flagon[/i] replica, the door opened and Daleth stepped forward. "What--?" he sputtered, recognizing Alexandros at once and paling at the thought of having to face him alone. <It's okay, Daleth,> came Kaspar's telepathic assurance, as he and Galen stepped through the open doorway behind him. The monk finished his thought aloud: "Alexandros is not here to fight us." Orion entered the tavern next, followed by Syngaard. The scarred fighter raised his morningstar reflexively, ready to attack. But Galen grabbed his arm. "Let's hear what he has to say," the paladin suggested. Then he turned to the silver-robed figure and asked, "Who exactly are you? You can't really be the real Alexandros." "But I am - in a way," the figure replied. "I am what little remains of Alexandros' goodness. You see, when a lich creates a phylactery the good part of its soul must remain bound within it, to anchor the rest of the lich's soul to the Material Plane. That is why liches are always evil." "Skevros is a lich - well, sort of," amended Orion. "And he's not evil." "True, but he is an exception to the rule, since he was restored to goodness before completing the ritual; hence his half-living state." "So this is all part of your phylactery?" asked Daleth, waving a hand to indicate the tavern's interior. "It is, yes. This whole place is a sort of demiplane, a 'pocket dimension' if you will." "Like inside our [i]bags of holding[/i]," suggested Kaspar. "Yes, although my phylactery covers a much greater area. And there are other differences as well: time flows faster here, for one thing. What feels like a full month will pass in here while only a single day's span occurs on the Material Plane. While my lich-body will reform out there in the outer world in a week, that means seven months of subjective time here inside the phylactery." "Weird," commented Syngaard. "The bulk of the phylactery is normally an ever-shifting maze of pathways; however, that defense is only to keep souls from escaping. Since you won't be trying to escape, you will find it much easier to reach your goal of finding the Jakuren god-essences." "These are the captured deities of Mikito's people?" asked Daleth. "They are: the elemental gods of the Western Wind, the Southern Mountain, the Eastern Sea, and the Northern Flame. A fifth god of honor rules over the four elemental gods." "They got names?" Syngaard asked. "No doubt, but the Mithral Mage never bothered to learn their names before slaying them and stealing their essences and thus they are unknown to me. The fifth god-essence is protecting the elder brain sliver that holds the demiplane together and it is hidden by the power of the four elemental gods." "So we gotta take out the elemental gods first, and then we can go find the fifth god and smash the elder brain," reasoned Syngaard. "That is correct. And you will have seven months of subjective time to finish the task." "Kill five gods and smash up a brain that can't even move. Sounds like a plan - let's go!" Galen raised a hand to the scarred fighter. "Syngaard, wait. We must rest up so we can replenish our spells and heal up. We'll need to be at our full strength if we're to take on the might of four elemental gods at once." Syngaard sighed, setting his morningstar down upon the table and taking a seat. "Fine," he acquiesced, sounding all put out about it but secretly admitting that getting the burns on his right arm taken are of wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing at all. "Hey, this place got any ale?" he asked. - - - So, Logan surprised us all again: I think this is the first time our weekly adventure started up immediately after the previous week's adventure - he had even kept the PC tracking sheet with which spells had been used and so on so he could pick up from exactly where we had left off. And now he informs us that the next two adventures will take place inside the phylactery: next session we deal with the four elemental gods and the one after that we'll fight the Jakuran god of honor and take out the elder brain sliver. And that will take care of the Mithral Mage permanently (assuming we can get that all done within the next seven months of subjective time). Daleth leveled up at the end of this adventure, so for the first time ever in this campaign we'll all be at the same level. That'll be different! [/QUOTE]
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