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The Heretic of Wyre - Part II
- Thread starter Sepulchrave II
- Start date
Sepulchrave II
Legend
Thanks for the praise and support
Its much appreciated.
Sooo...
**
"Well, what do you think?" Ortwin asked Mostin.
"I must admit, it is so deliciously simple that it just might work," the Alienist replied. "Has Eadric agreed to it?"
"He has already signed it," the Bard grinned. He handed over a single piece of parchment to Mostin.
It was a lease – for the use of the Steeple at Kyrtill’s Burgh by Mostin the Metagnostic for private research purposes - signed by Eadric of Deorham. It was backdated around six months.
"Temple Clerics trespassed on your lawfully rented property and performed conjurations. You were perfectly within your rights to protect it. The Injunction was not infringed."
"Quite so," Mostin said. The perverse twistings of Ortwin’s mind were a constant source of amazement.
"You should be aware that Eadric will not actually lie for you," Ortwin said. "But he understands that this document could be misinterpreted, if you were to choose to be less than honest about when the lease changed hands. And you owe him three hundred gold crowns for back rent."
Mostin raised a single eyebrow.
"How was your meeting with the Storm-Witch?" Ortwin asked. "Did she furnish you with sound advice?"
"Mulissu seldom gives advice of any kind," Mostin replied. "But she has agreed to help me finish Feezuu off. Would you care to participate in a raid?"
"Naturally," the Bard replied. "I am on her hit list as well, if you recall. Exactly when did you have in mind?"
"In three or four days. Lacking Sonics, Mulissu has opted for Necromantic assault. She is cramming some new spells, from Feezuu’s own books, ironically enough."
"Her lightning?" Ortwin asked.
"Will be ineffective against demons," Mostin said, as though instructing a child. "But she has other tricks up her sleeve. Enchantments, Transmutations, Conjurations. We will need death wards and acid immunities again. I was rather hoping that Nwm would join us, even if Eadric does not. Where is he?"
Ortwin shrugged.
**
Lord Rede of Dramore sat alone on his stool, beneath the empty Archiepiscopal throne in the Great Fane of Oronthon in Morne. Even before the failure of the latest of the schemes devised by himself, Hethio and the other powerful members of the Curia, the Grand Master of the Temple had begun to feel a niggling doubt in the pit of his stomach.
His efforts to suppress it had been unsuccessful.
As he sat and mused on events of the past year or so, he regarded the corpse of Melion – still lying in sombre state beneath the northern altar in the temple. The Inquisition was leaderless – its Grand Master slain by a pagan, and its Deputy, an avowed heretic, defected to the Enemy. The Curia was in tatters, with the Marquis of Iald gone – a target for future Temple reprisals, if things continued the way that they were going. The Bishop of Tyndur continually voted against any measures which he tried to pass, irrespective of their nature, simply in an attempt to sow as much discord as possible.
The old bastard had finally shown some teeth, Rede thought ironically.
And, latest in a catalogue of annoyances, raids by Uediian bandits in Hethio – the most dependable and Orthodox of all of the Wyrish provinces. Yesterday, a Temple caravan ambushed, the guards slain and its goods seized. This morning, a chapel burned – after its valuables had been ransacked, of course. Rede had dispatched a dozen Templars and twenty men-at-arms to deal with the threat, but was finding that he had fewer and fewer resources to draw upon. The Temple Precinct was all but empty, most of its fighting members either entrenched near Trempa or guarding access to Iald.
The Grand Master of the Temple did not notice the magical sensor which observed him.
Abruptly, disturbing his reverie, Rede saw a shadow enter the Fane through the Orangery door. Odd, he thought, no-one used that door at night.
Nwm the Preceptor walked calmly along the aisle.
"You!" Rede yelled, and with a speed which belied the weight of his armour, launched himself forward and drew the greatsword from his back in a single, fluid motion.
"Peace, Rede," the Druid said, holding his palm outwards. "This is hallowed ground. I will commit no act of violence here. Will you?"
"Guards!" The Templar roared – unnecessarily as, already alerted by his first yell, they were entering through the cloister doors.
Nwm cast a spell and both he and Rede were surrounded by a wall of thorns of great height and thickness.
"Deceiver!" Rede yelled, and charged towards the Druid. Before he reached him, however, creepers had shot forth from the briar wall and pinned the Templar.
Nehael suddenly materialized.
"The Demoness! The Demoness is in the Fane!" Rede was yelling madly.
"Listen!" Nwm shouted.
But Rede, drawing on the immense Strength granted to him, burst through the entangling vines and clawed his way forwards.
Oh, for the Goddess’ sake, Nwm thought. But he was prepared for this. Rede groped wildly for a vine to hold onto, failed, and flew upwards under the effects of a reverse gravity. He landed on the arched ceiling of the nave eighty feet above with a ‘thud.’
"Now shut up, and listen," Nwm said.
**
Feezuu considered her position.
Her Bar-Lgura, called again back to the Prime, had delivered its short message from Graz’zt.
We have not forgotten you. We will send another message – and messenger – shortly.
The Cambion pondered on the meaning of the words. A thinly veiled threat, to be sure, and henceforth she should watch her step carefully. Of course, Graz’zt did not trust her, any more than she did him. Both of them knew it. This was the nature of Abyssal politics, and was hardly unusual. It was the messenger that concerned her.
Feezuu summoned Kalkja, and asked for counsel from the demoness.
"The Prince is attempting to exercise dominion over you, Lady. Will you allow this outrage?"
Feezuu did not reply, unsure of the Succubus’ motives.
"What of your Assassin?" Kalkja asked, smoothly turning the attention away from the unanswered question. "Have you made further progress?" In fact, the Succubus already knew the answer to this, although she had heard no such admission from the Cambion’s own lips.
"A mortal wizard," Feezuu answered bitterly.
"How did you determine this, Lady?" Kalkja asked slyly. But she was playing a dangerous game – Feezuu was no fool.
"Both of the Quasits communed for me. Some questions I directed them to ask Demogorgon concerning my assailant, some regarding Graz’zt and his plots, others about the loyalty of my compactee demons." Feezuu’s face was expressionless, her eyes penetrating.
"Contacting the Ancient is a perilous enterprise," Kalkja effortlessly replied.
"I intend to have the Quasits commune on a regular basis," Feezuu lied. "Over time, a coherent picture will doubtless begin to emerge."
"They will demand high recompense," the Succubus reminded Feezuu.
"I will renegotiate their contracts with them," the Cambion said. "I find that I am no longer in the mood for counsel, Kalkja. You may depart."
The demoness bowed, and left. Feezuu watched her carefully.
Somewhat later, a Quasit appeared directly in front of Feezuu. It bore a seal made from the horn of some Abyssal creature in its hand.
Feezuu relaxed a little. Evidently, the Prince had not wished to send anything of great status through – it would have overtaxed him.
The tiny Demon grinned wickedly. "I have been instructed to inform you that you will call the Marilith Lady Uzmi to this location within one hour. You will not attempt to constrain her with magic. She bears important information which concerns you, regarding your assailants, an Oronthonian plot, and the whereabouts of at least some of your missing items. She is currently being briefed."
Feezuu’s inwardly heaved. Was there nothing that she had kept secret, or was not already known to Graz’zt? She suspected a mole in her midst, and there was one obvious suspect. And the Prince had carefully placed the burden of expending magical power on her: he could have shunted Uzmi to the Prime by himself, although the diminishment in his strength might be of an unacceptable level.
Uzmi better not try anything funny, or the Cambion would blast her to pieces. Or die trying.
**
Nwm had rather more than a minute to get his argument across: not before the Templars had hacked their way through the wall of thorns – that would take them far longer. But until Rede fell back to the floor again.
"How is it possible that a demoness stands on hallowed ground?" he said calmly to Rede.
"Tainter! Corrupter!" Rede screamed back at him.
"Examine her for taint yourself," Nwm said.
Rede struggled with his sword.
"You are a coward," Nwm said scornfully. "Look at her. LOOK AT HER!"
"Why have you come here?" Rede shouted down.
"Unlike Eadric of Deorham, I am not bound by the dictates of your God. I may intercede where I wish, and need no celestial fiat to act. I have come to show you the Truth, Lord Rede. Look at the Succubus."
Rede closed his eyes and prayed fervently for Oronthon’s intervention.
Nwm sighed, and Nehael flew upwards towards where the Templar was suspended – taking care not to fall within the gravity well. She smiled benignly at him.
"Temptress! Begone!"
"Your faith is weak, if you will not examine me for taint," Nehael said reasonably.
Rede continued to mumble prayers through his lips.
"Please look at me Rede," she spoke softly.
"Bah!" Nwm shouted. "This is useless. He is blind and arrogant beyond belief. We should go." He touched a wooden pew, and it transformed immediately into a wooden ladder which grew up towards the ceiling.
The Druid began to dissolve into mist. "I will not warn you again, Dramore," he said. "You will desist from your persecutions, or I will level this building to the ground, and it will become a hallowed pile of rubble. We are currently in a state of enforced peace. You would be wise not to jeopardize it. If any more anti-Uediian legislation is passed, and you fail to repeal that enacted already, I promise that you will answer for it in Hell."
Nwm drifted away like smoke.
Nehael remained somewhat longer, and tried once again, even as the Templar was clambering down the wooden ladder to the floor of the Fane.
"You have lost His grace," she said sadly to him, and vanished.
By the time that the other Templars had cut through the wall, they found Rede in a somber and introspective mood.
"Remove the pews," Rede commanded dourly. "Flush everything in holy water. Fetch Asser – the Fane must be resanctified. The taint must be washed away." But his words sounded hollow even to himself. It helped little, when a young Paladin said brightly:
"There is no taint here, Lord Rede."
The Grand Master of the Temple and Interim Protector of the Church of Oronthon turned away, and vomited.
**
The Bishop of Hethio brushed it off. "Don’t let it concern you. It was probably the Diabolist – or one of his mortal allies - in disguise. That would explain the lack of significant residual evil."
Rede ignored him. "I am resigning from the Curia," he said. "I have already sent out an order that it should convene tomorrow, where I will announce it. I am also leaving the Temple."
"You cannot be serious!" Hethio was aghast. "The Temple needs strong leadership now more than ever. You cannot let the Heretic intimidate you with his wiles."
"I have decided. Good night Hethio."
"Rede…"
"YOU ARE DISMISSED!" Lord Rede thundered.
The Bishop nodded and left. His mind raced with possibilities and, had he had time to consider carefully, he may have chosen a course of action other than that which he did. But panic drove him, and desperation guided his deeds.
He must act quickly! He passed through the doors of the exchequer, descended a flight of stone steps, and entered an arched chamber lit with sconces.
Two paladins stood guard there.
"Greetings, Lord Bishop," one said. "This is a late hour to be visiting the vault."
Hethio nodded, and held up his seal in a perfunctory manner. He passed into the guarded maze, negotiated its hazards, entered the treasure room, and stuffed his purse full of fire opals. He grabbed a random piece of parchment and, exiting the vault, waved the scroll and raised his eyebrows at the two guards as though he had absent-mindedly forgotten it. They smiled sympathetically.
Returning to his chambers, the Bishop drew a hooded cloak about himself and pressed a panel in the wall. A doorway appeared. Lighting the lantern inside the opening, he closed the door behind him, and proceeded down a seldom-used tunnel which exited the Temple grounds to the west, within a quiet cemetery reserved for the city nobility.
He knew where to go, who to speak to, and what to say. He hoped that they had some people good enough to do the job quickly and effectively.
For the sake of the Church, he lied to himself.
Its much appreciated.
Sooo...
**
"Well, what do you think?" Ortwin asked Mostin.
"I must admit, it is so deliciously simple that it just might work," the Alienist replied. "Has Eadric agreed to it?"
"He has already signed it," the Bard grinned. He handed over a single piece of parchment to Mostin.
It was a lease – for the use of the Steeple at Kyrtill’s Burgh by Mostin the Metagnostic for private research purposes - signed by Eadric of Deorham. It was backdated around six months.
"Temple Clerics trespassed on your lawfully rented property and performed conjurations. You were perfectly within your rights to protect it. The Injunction was not infringed."
"Quite so," Mostin said. The perverse twistings of Ortwin’s mind were a constant source of amazement.
"You should be aware that Eadric will not actually lie for you," Ortwin said. "But he understands that this document could be misinterpreted, if you were to choose to be less than honest about when the lease changed hands. And you owe him three hundred gold crowns for back rent."
Mostin raised a single eyebrow.
"How was your meeting with the Storm-Witch?" Ortwin asked. "Did she furnish you with sound advice?"
"Mulissu seldom gives advice of any kind," Mostin replied. "But she has agreed to help me finish Feezuu off. Would you care to participate in a raid?"
"Naturally," the Bard replied. "I am on her hit list as well, if you recall. Exactly when did you have in mind?"
"In three or four days. Lacking Sonics, Mulissu has opted for Necromantic assault. She is cramming some new spells, from Feezuu’s own books, ironically enough."
"Her lightning?" Ortwin asked.
"Will be ineffective against demons," Mostin said, as though instructing a child. "But she has other tricks up her sleeve. Enchantments, Transmutations, Conjurations. We will need death wards and acid immunities again. I was rather hoping that Nwm would join us, even if Eadric does not. Where is he?"
Ortwin shrugged.
**
Lord Rede of Dramore sat alone on his stool, beneath the empty Archiepiscopal throne in the Great Fane of Oronthon in Morne. Even before the failure of the latest of the schemes devised by himself, Hethio and the other powerful members of the Curia, the Grand Master of the Temple had begun to feel a niggling doubt in the pit of his stomach.
His efforts to suppress it had been unsuccessful.
As he sat and mused on events of the past year or so, he regarded the corpse of Melion – still lying in sombre state beneath the northern altar in the temple. The Inquisition was leaderless – its Grand Master slain by a pagan, and its Deputy, an avowed heretic, defected to the Enemy. The Curia was in tatters, with the Marquis of Iald gone – a target for future Temple reprisals, if things continued the way that they were going. The Bishop of Tyndur continually voted against any measures which he tried to pass, irrespective of their nature, simply in an attempt to sow as much discord as possible.
The old bastard had finally shown some teeth, Rede thought ironically.
And, latest in a catalogue of annoyances, raids by Uediian bandits in Hethio – the most dependable and Orthodox of all of the Wyrish provinces. Yesterday, a Temple caravan ambushed, the guards slain and its goods seized. This morning, a chapel burned – after its valuables had been ransacked, of course. Rede had dispatched a dozen Templars and twenty men-at-arms to deal with the threat, but was finding that he had fewer and fewer resources to draw upon. The Temple Precinct was all but empty, most of its fighting members either entrenched near Trempa or guarding access to Iald.
The Grand Master of the Temple did not notice the magical sensor which observed him.
Abruptly, disturbing his reverie, Rede saw a shadow enter the Fane through the Orangery door. Odd, he thought, no-one used that door at night.
Nwm the Preceptor walked calmly along the aisle.
"You!" Rede yelled, and with a speed which belied the weight of his armour, launched himself forward and drew the greatsword from his back in a single, fluid motion.
"Peace, Rede," the Druid said, holding his palm outwards. "This is hallowed ground. I will commit no act of violence here. Will you?"
"Guards!" The Templar roared – unnecessarily as, already alerted by his first yell, they were entering through the cloister doors.
Nwm cast a spell and both he and Rede were surrounded by a wall of thorns of great height and thickness.
"Deceiver!" Rede yelled, and charged towards the Druid. Before he reached him, however, creepers had shot forth from the briar wall and pinned the Templar.
Nehael suddenly materialized.
"The Demoness! The Demoness is in the Fane!" Rede was yelling madly.
"Listen!" Nwm shouted.
But Rede, drawing on the immense Strength granted to him, burst through the entangling vines and clawed his way forwards.
Oh, for the Goddess’ sake, Nwm thought. But he was prepared for this. Rede groped wildly for a vine to hold onto, failed, and flew upwards under the effects of a reverse gravity. He landed on the arched ceiling of the nave eighty feet above with a ‘thud.’
"Now shut up, and listen," Nwm said.
**
Feezuu considered her position.
Her Bar-Lgura, called again back to the Prime, had delivered its short message from Graz’zt.
We have not forgotten you. We will send another message – and messenger – shortly.
The Cambion pondered on the meaning of the words. A thinly veiled threat, to be sure, and henceforth she should watch her step carefully. Of course, Graz’zt did not trust her, any more than she did him. Both of them knew it. This was the nature of Abyssal politics, and was hardly unusual. It was the messenger that concerned her.
Feezuu summoned Kalkja, and asked for counsel from the demoness.
"The Prince is attempting to exercise dominion over you, Lady. Will you allow this outrage?"
Feezuu did not reply, unsure of the Succubus’ motives.
"What of your Assassin?" Kalkja asked, smoothly turning the attention away from the unanswered question. "Have you made further progress?" In fact, the Succubus already knew the answer to this, although she had heard no such admission from the Cambion’s own lips.
"A mortal wizard," Feezuu answered bitterly.
"How did you determine this, Lady?" Kalkja asked slyly. But she was playing a dangerous game – Feezuu was no fool.
"Both of the Quasits communed for me. Some questions I directed them to ask Demogorgon concerning my assailant, some regarding Graz’zt and his plots, others about the loyalty of my compactee demons." Feezuu’s face was expressionless, her eyes penetrating.
"Contacting the Ancient is a perilous enterprise," Kalkja effortlessly replied.
"I intend to have the Quasits commune on a regular basis," Feezuu lied. "Over time, a coherent picture will doubtless begin to emerge."
"They will demand high recompense," the Succubus reminded Feezuu.
"I will renegotiate their contracts with them," the Cambion said. "I find that I am no longer in the mood for counsel, Kalkja. You may depart."
The demoness bowed, and left. Feezuu watched her carefully.
Somewhat later, a Quasit appeared directly in front of Feezuu. It bore a seal made from the horn of some Abyssal creature in its hand.
Feezuu relaxed a little. Evidently, the Prince had not wished to send anything of great status through – it would have overtaxed him.
The tiny Demon grinned wickedly. "I have been instructed to inform you that you will call the Marilith Lady Uzmi to this location within one hour. You will not attempt to constrain her with magic. She bears important information which concerns you, regarding your assailants, an Oronthonian plot, and the whereabouts of at least some of your missing items. She is currently being briefed."
Feezuu’s inwardly heaved. Was there nothing that she had kept secret, or was not already known to Graz’zt? She suspected a mole in her midst, and there was one obvious suspect. And the Prince had carefully placed the burden of expending magical power on her: he could have shunted Uzmi to the Prime by himself, although the diminishment in his strength might be of an unacceptable level.
Uzmi better not try anything funny, or the Cambion would blast her to pieces. Or die trying.
**
Nwm had rather more than a minute to get his argument across: not before the Templars had hacked their way through the wall of thorns – that would take them far longer. But until Rede fell back to the floor again.
"How is it possible that a demoness stands on hallowed ground?" he said calmly to Rede.
"Tainter! Corrupter!" Rede screamed back at him.
"Examine her for taint yourself," Nwm said.
Rede struggled with his sword.
"You are a coward," Nwm said scornfully. "Look at her. LOOK AT HER!"
"Why have you come here?" Rede shouted down.
"Unlike Eadric of Deorham, I am not bound by the dictates of your God. I may intercede where I wish, and need no celestial fiat to act. I have come to show you the Truth, Lord Rede. Look at the Succubus."
Rede closed his eyes and prayed fervently for Oronthon’s intervention.
Nwm sighed, and Nehael flew upwards towards where the Templar was suspended – taking care not to fall within the gravity well. She smiled benignly at him.
"Temptress! Begone!"
"Your faith is weak, if you will not examine me for taint," Nehael said reasonably.
Rede continued to mumble prayers through his lips.
"Please look at me Rede," she spoke softly.
"Bah!" Nwm shouted. "This is useless. He is blind and arrogant beyond belief. We should go." He touched a wooden pew, and it transformed immediately into a wooden ladder which grew up towards the ceiling.
The Druid began to dissolve into mist. "I will not warn you again, Dramore," he said. "You will desist from your persecutions, or I will level this building to the ground, and it will become a hallowed pile of rubble. We are currently in a state of enforced peace. You would be wise not to jeopardize it. If any more anti-Uediian legislation is passed, and you fail to repeal that enacted already, I promise that you will answer for it in Hell."
Nwm drifted away like smoke.
Nehael remained somewhat longer, and tried once again, even as the Templar was clambering down the wooden ladder to the floor of the Fane.
"You have lost His grace," she said sadly to him, and vanished.
By the time that the other Templars had cut through the wall, they found Rede in a somber and introspective mood.
"Remove the pews," Rede commanded dourly. "Flush everything in holy water. Fetch Asser – the Fane must be resanctified. The taint must be washed away." But his words sounded hollow even to himself. It helped little, when a young Paladin said brightly:
"There is no taint here, Lord Rede."
The Grand Master of the Temple and Interim Protector of the Church of Oronthon turned away, and vomited.
**
The Bishop of Hethio brushed it off. "Don’t let it concern you. It was probably the Diabolist – or one of his mortal allies - in disguise. That would explain the lack of significant residual evil."
Rede ignored him. "I am resigning from the Curia," he said. "I have already sent out an order that it should convene tomorrow, where I will announce it. I am also leaving the Temple."
"You cannot be serious!" Hethio was aghast. "The Temple needs strong leadership now more than ever. You cannot let the Heretic intimidate you with his wiles."
"I have decided. Good night Hethio."
"Rede…"
"YOU ARE DISMISSED!" Lord Rede thundered.
The Bishop nodded and left. His mind raced with possibilities and, had he had time to consider carefully, he may have chosen a course of action other than that which he did. But panic drove him, and desperation guided his deeds.
He must act quickly! He passed through the doors of the exchequer, descended a flight of stone steps, and entered an arched chamber lit with sconces.
Two paladins stood guard there.
"Greetings, Lord Bishop," one said. "This is a late hour to be visiting the vault."
Hethio nodded, and held up his seal in a perfunctory manner. He passed into the guarded maze, negotiated its hazards, entered the treasure room, and stuffed his purse full of fire opals. He grabbed a random piece of parchment and, exiting the vault, waved the scroll and raised his eyebrows at the two guards as though he had absent-mindedly forgotten it. They smiled sympathetically.
Returning to his chambers, the Bishop drew a hooded cloak about himself and pressed a panel in the wall. A doorway appeared. Lighting the lantern inside the opening, he closed the door behind him, and proceeded down a seldom-used tunnel which exited the Temple grounds to the west, within a quiet cemetery reserved for the city nobility.
He knew where to go, who to speak to, and what to say. He hoped that they had some people good enough to do the job quickly and effectively.
For the sake of the Church, he lied to himself.
Last edited:
Jeremy
Explorer
And so the Orthodox church, desperately hanging on to law and order, loses even that.
Very fun stuff. How do you think your PC's will react when the get to read about all these things that are happening behind the scenes and outside their knowledge? When they finally see the actual effects of their planning and works?
Very fun stuff. How do you think your PC's will react when the get to read about all these things that are happening behind the scenes and outside their knowledge? When they finally see the actual effects of their planning and works?
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Nice work, S.crave!
So the Curia is turning to assassins or necromancers? interesting....
Can't wait to see the machinitions of Grz'zat and what happens to Feezu.
And now the Ancient is chiming in? Nasty!
So the Curia is turning to assassins or necromancers? interesting....
Can't wait to see the machinitions of Grz'zat and what happens to Feezu.
And now the Ancient is chiming in? Nasty!
Cheiromancer
Adventurer
I think Graz'zt is being a real jerk.
You can't logically object to celestials being active on the prime if you are in the habit of sending demons there (Cerothumulos and associates). If you send a succubus to seduce a paladin who thwarted you in the past, you shouldn't complain if the succubus never returns. If you assassinate the Prelate of Morne, you shouldn't whine if you lose one of your associates in the aftermath (Rurunoth). You can't logically object to mortals summoning celestials if you have a witch of your own summoning demons left and right. Tit for tat. What's good for the goose and all that.
And why should Graz'zt object if Oronthon does some house-cleaning in his own Church? It's Oronthon's own worshippers that are getting blinded and feebleminded, blasted by lightning and slain by magic, not Graz'zt's. Does Oronthon intervene when Graz'zt punishes Lady Uzmi? No- it's an internal affair. Graz'zt should show similar discretion and common sense.
Of course, one would expect Oronthon to act with a good deal more wisdom and restraint than a demon prince. It seems clear that Oronthon tolerates Graz'zt's activities, perhaps because it is a growth experience for mortals to fight evil. Greater good, etc., etc.. Whatever. But I think that Graz'zt is getting awfully close to the borders of tolerable behavior. I think that Oronthon should seriously consider sending a strike team of Solars to give Graz'zt a lesson in humility.
p.s. Any word on Mostin's spells?
You can't logically object to celestials being active on the prime if you are in the habit of sending demons there (Cerothumulos and associates). If you send a succubus to seduce a paladin who thwarted you in the past, you shouldn't complain if the succubus never returns. If you assassinate the Prelate of Morne, you shouldn't whine if you lose one of your associates in the aftermath (Rurunoth). You can't logically object to mortals summoning celestials if you have a witch of your own summoning demons left and right. Tit for tat. What's good for the goose and all that.
And why should Graz'zt object if Oronthon does some house-cleaning in his own Church? It's Oronthon's own worshippers that are getting blinded and feebleminded, blasted by lightning and slain by magic, not Graz'zt's. Does Oronthon intervene when Graz'zt punishes Lady Uzmi? No- it's an internal affair. Graz'zt should show similar discretion and common sense.
Of course, one would expect Oronthon to act with a good deal more wisdom and restraint than a demon prince. It seems clear that Oronthon tolerates Graz'zt's activities, perhaps because it is a growth experience for mortals to fight evil. Greater good, etc., etc.. Whatever. But I think that Graz'zt is getting awfully close to the borders of tolerable behavior. I think that Oronthon should seriously consider sending a strike team of Solars to give Graz'zt a lesson in humility.
p.s. Any word on Mostin's spells?
Of COURSE Grazzt is being a real jerk! That's what demons DO, ferchrissakes! Sheesh, if he WASN'T acting like a two-faced cheap liar, then I'd want a refund!
I mean, heck, both the U.S. and U.S.S.R. would raise Holy Hell every time they caught the other side spying on them, but did it ever stop each of the parties from performing said spying in the first place? Nooo...
Grazzt is just doing what demons do - he's looking for personal advantage in a chaotic situation. Yes, it may lead to a smackdown for him, and he might have it coming...
I mean, heck, both the U.S. and U.S.S.R. would raise Holy Hell every time they caught the other side spying on them, but did it ever stop each of the parties from performing said spying in the first place? Nooo...
Grazzt is just doing what demons do - he's looking for personal advantage in a chaotic situation. Yes, it may lead to a smackdown for him, and he might have it coming...
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