[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign

Rey's Journal

Icosial's Tomb

I find myself frustrated by the group. Perhaps it is the environment we are in. Although I am adept in the caverns of the world, I much prefer be on the surface. With trees and sunlight and heck, on top of a snowy mountain. At some point, the caves feel like they are collapsing in. I snapped at Jordan today. He was telling us the story of his undoing. He and his love were infected with the green worms. At some point after her death but before his, a devil came to make a deal. Jordan agreed and as a result, destroyed all he held dear. He has not gotten over it and he wishes to use the Rod of Seven Parts to defeat the devil he made the bargain with. Instead of empathy, I snapped at him. He didn’t deserve it and I should apologize. It has been a trying day. Another one. Maybe I should meditate on what has happened so far.
_______________

We entered the black mirror and found Treig resting. Passing through a wind tunnel, we were attacked by mist creatures, at the very least they reminded me of the wind guardians at the top of the Cairn those many days ago. But before I could respond, I saw both Treig and Etona step out of the tunnel and the hostiles blew away. So, not being suicidal at the moment, I did too. They weren’t an illusion because I felt the hit, but perhaps they are a security measure. Treig seemed familiar with this place, immediately looking for traps. Or perhaps the wall of spikes was a giveaway. Still, I am glad that he (thus far) is on our side.

It was then that the devil creature entered. I do not have words to describe him. Fiery chains that erupted from his body swung around him in a mad frenzy. Yet Treig greeted him as a friend. Jordan is his name. He withdrew his chains...into his body. It sounded terrible. My first impression of him was terrifying. I would not call him an ally or a friend. Ever.

There was a meeting with a shadow spider who called itself Fly Catcher. Not particularly creative but there you go. It has Egan, and for some odd reason, chose to show Treig the shadow prison he is currently in. Poor Treig. As a courier, all he wanted to do is deliver the case and move on. Yet a man of honor, because he could have given it to one of us once he saw Egan and he didn’t. Instead he bargained for Egan’s life. I admit I wasn’t paying close attention to the conversation. I thought I might see or not see webs and shadows. I’m pretty sure Etona saw something, but we didn’t have time to talk. I heard the Fly Catcher utter “Icosial” twice. The name feels familiar to me, but I cannot remember why. It then repeated the name a third time and said the name would deactivate the tomb’s defenses.

There was a room we needed to go through made of lightning. I felt drawn to it and knew with certainty that I could handle it. I may have misjudged how much lightning likes me or I like lightning. It still hurt. But we managed to get everyone through the room with no harm to the others. I wonder what’s changed in me. I still feel slightly off balance and am moving at variable speeds. I am much faster getting from here to there than I think I should be. I have this urge, this need for open space to run. To recenter myself and see what I can do. I am changed, I know this, yet I do not know HOW I am changed or what has changed. I am eager to find out. But first, this cave and the whims of delusional spider.

Etona was struggling. I know she does not enjoy being in closed spaces such as this. I thought for a moment that she would faint when we suggested she climb on Obi to traverse a red river. But she is stronger than she thinks and did as asked. Past the raging river, we entered a room with more doors and stone statues. As Treig walked by, a statue grabbed him. He attempted to free his arm but was unsuccessful. For a second I considered attacking it, but the name popped into my head. So as I made a move towards them, I uttered “Icosial.” To my surprise and Treig’s, the statue released him and stepped back. We found a black mirror behind the door it was guarding, similar to the one that brought us here. It is a portal, but to what we do not yet know. Jordan and Treig wanted to check out the rest of the room before we moved on. The rest of the hall outside the door was frigid. I normally would not have done this, but it was so cold I stayed close to Jordan. He may be a kind of devil but he exudes heat and fire, very useful in an ice room. In their efforts to investigate every room, they blew up a door. The explosion pushed us back and the ice floor collapsed under us. Once again, I had that moment when I moved further and faster than I thought I would. We retreated. For a moment, I thought Etona would close the gate and leave Jordan to battle the animated stone soldiers and blobs. I asked her to wait. I am not a fan of him but we do not leave allies behind. Hopefully I made the right decision. Shortly after we encountered the ghoul Fly Catcher warned us about and Treig once again, took charge. He does it naturally and is good at it. He has led men before, it is very obvious. After some bargaining and a good bit of luck, Treig took possession of the Seal. I was surprised Jordan did not volunteer himself for it. It was then that Treig pulled us together and shared a plan to trick Fly Catcher.

Treig and I entered the room, given levitation by the ghoul Moretto. He was surprisingly different from the ghouls I’ve met before. From the White City and very well spoken, he wished to go to the surface world. To explore? Cause chaos? I do not know. He knew of the green worms and spoke of a prophecy. Moretto helped us to help himself. He had not been able to get past Fly Catcher and the cave’s defenses. The levitation allowed us to float above the shadow webs that would grab at us. Fly Catcher demanded Treig place the Seal on the dias, which he refused to do until Egan was back with us. Egan emerged from the floor covered in shadow web, and was released. In the midst of this, Treig stopped and handed Egan the case. His mission, it seemed, was complete. Treig toss the Seal onto the dias and Fly Catcher knew immediately that it was fake. Treig threw his half-smoked cigar at the spider. It exploded and I had my first view of Fly Catcher. If I thought Jordan was odd, Fly Catcher was worse. I have only heard of these creatures, Dark Elf torso and head on a spider’s body. Treig jumped on it and was bitten, and was paralyzed ON the creature’s back. Etona lit up the room and destroyed the webs, allowing us to step on the ground. My attempts to attack it failed but was able to touch Treig and he finished the job. The creature disappeared into dust. I think Etona was sad we had to kill it. She wanted to talk with it. Sometimes, I do not understand my friend.

Then the discussion with what to do with the Seal and the potential Rod of Seven Parts began and here we are. Jordan believes that the Arch-Devil planned this, and infected him in order to set the stage for his dominance. He wishes to use the Rod to destroy the Asmodeus. How much of this is true and how much is Jordan’s fantasy? He has been alive for a thousand years and has had a long time to dwell on the loss of his betrothed. How much of our lives are dictated by forces greater than us? What part do we play in our own destiny? All questions for a different day.

Etona doesn’t trust Jordan with the Rod, and honestly, neither do I. The man has vengeance on his mind and the Rod of Seven Parts is more than that. Egan wants it, but for different reasons. Etona doesn’t seem pleased that Egan is once again beholden but the Wind Dukes are much better than the Asmodi. I’ve been meditating and doing my best to tune out the arguments, especially once I snapped at Jordan. Then I heard Treig say my name. He nominated ME to hold the Rod, claiming I was a neutral party. I disagreed. I too have ulterior motives. I have been charged to find the monster that infected Ithane and bring its end. Etona, of course agreed to it because she did not want Egan or Jordan to have it. I nominated Treig. After all, he is the carrier of the Seal and rescued Egan for us. Yet, they agreed that I am to take possession of it. I feel like a pack mule.

Treig knew exactly where to go. We went even further down the waterfall and Etona grasped my hand so hard I thought she would break my bones. We entered a hall with rainbow lanterns and a sarcophagus in the center. It reminded me very clearly of the Cairn, except the sarcophagus was floating and the walls were well lit with beautiful carvings of the general being lifted into the After, if you believe in that sort of thing. Treig placed the Seal on the sarcophagus and the top slid open. In it was very old clothing, the bones having turned to dust, a set of swords, a ring and what appeared to be a fragment of the Rod of Seven Parts. As Treig reached in, another unworldly creature emerged from the wind clouds and demanded what we had to offer. All hundreds of its eyeballs were trained on Treig. After a moment’s hesitation and an obvious heaviness of heart, Treig placed a red scarf in the sarcophagus and grabbed the Rod. Then the thing looked at me and asked what I had to offer. I froze. I couldn’t think of anything of value, then I did and I knew I couldn’t. The only thing I could think of was Obi and the orb I carried him in. Grief rose within me, threatening to drown me. I haven’t felt like this since..that day. When did I allow myself to get attached to others again? Etona, Egan, Mel, Obi, and of course, Seraph. Seraph was the first and I didn’t even know it. I looked at the ring, but I could not do it. When I looked at Treig, he was looking at me and shook his head. Heeding his silent advice, I backed away. Jordan, on the other hand, looked so hopeful for a second. He asked us to leave the room, which Etona refused. She wanted to see his flaming sword. In the end, the demon did not accept his sword, or the devil attached to it.

As Treig approached me with the Seal, he suddenly asked what else from the Cairn I had in my possession. I showed him the circlet and the stick with the ring on it, which Jordan identified as a Talisman. Treig took the circlet from me and placed it on his head. Unusual, but it had been an unusual day. Then he froze. When he came to, he did not speak to us and we did not disturb his silent thoughts. I know the red scarf was important to him and want to thank him for his sacrifice. I do not know when and how to say it.

Our return to the real world was uneventful until we reached the Cairn. There the birdmen guarding Seraph saw Treig and started whispering. Shortly after, the General arrived. Treig was chosen by the Wind Dukes for his sacrifice. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Journal of Jordan Cranden II - Entry III

"What do we do when we fall off of our horse, young prince?"

In a dejected tone: "We get back on again." I was a child again reliving my early lessons with the battle master of the Knight Protectors. It was tradition for the battle master to personally train each of the Aerdy line. His name was Zarell and he still had the most gravelly of voices I've heard to this day.

"But Hope doesn't want me to ride him." I heard myself complain as the memory played out.

Zarell was traditionally both stern and taciturn, but he asked: "Why do you say that?" Such patience that man had.

"Because he thinks I'm too weak."

Quicker than a striking snake, Zarell, had closed the distance, tripped me - putting me back on the ground of which he had just had me stand up from - and had his iron like grip around my throat. I recall the panic and confusion. I was suffocating. I realize now he could have made me go unconscious in seconds if he'd wanted to by preventing bloodflow, but he merely compressed my windpipe.

With such fierce determination it made me momentarily forget the position I was in, Zarell said: "Then prove him wrong!"

I remember the confusion. Was this betrayal? No. It was a test. But he was Zarell. I was a child. I could not hope to overpower this man - our battlemaster! I grabbed his vice like hand feebly. I tried to swat at his wrist to no avail. The man was simply iron. I was starting to gasp.

With righteous anger Zarell screamed at me: "You will be head of the Knight Protectors, Jordan! You must shed all weakness. People do not follow weakness. Hope will not acquiesce to weakness. Weakness invites pain. Weakness invites usurpation. Is that what you are? Weak?"

His words sparked something inside me - a white hot righteousness. I heard my child voice choke out with similar determination to Zarell's "I am a Cranden!" and somehow I managed to twist in his grip while wrapping my legs around his arm and kick off of his torso using my shoulder for leverage on the ground. This resulted in a rather messy roll with Zarell now on the ground having no way to prevent his fall at an angle since like any good battle master the maneuver did not result in his grip weakened in the slightest- but it did relieve my windpipe from its crushing force- and so he had no pillar of support on that direction and it resulted in me on top of him.

Zarell's grating laughter - as unpleasant as it was rare - filled the training grounds. "And so you are, my young prince. And so you are."
___________________

Ember had stopped walking rousing me from my memories. After the most recent domination by Beherit, I had left the battle ground and its accusations behind. I knew this episode would stay with me like the early ones. The weight on my conscience was jarring in the early years but over time one develops callouses. Lief's death was like those first, though - raw, provoking a crisis of self. I accepted the deeper emotions this provoked far faster than early on, however. I was at peace - or whatever broken emptiness robs one of their emotional reserve that I had convinced myself was peace.

The storm was now causing short bursts of gale-force winds to buffet Ember and me, but that was not why he stopped. A man stepped out of a nearby group of trees and hailed me. It was not Treig.

I walked Ember to within 20 feet and then dismounted. Ember looked on with the pupil-less eyes of his namesake while I approached. I stopped perhaps nearby but said nothing. I was no longer in my armor and Beherit was soul-sheathed for now.

"Beherdan, I have a proposition for you."

Before I continue, you must understand something first: one does not just casually mention Beherit. The former devil prince was a subordinate to Asmodeus, and challenged him for rule over the Nine Hells. Beherit lost. Few if any have ever seen my sword and lived to tell the tale, never mind knew it was sentient. Of the remote few that have survived or witnessed encounters with the sword and would make the connection, fewer still would know exactly what the sword housed. Either, this man had spent a great deal of time researching or he had insider knowledge from the Asmodi. In either case, my hackles rose. I could feel the chains writhing inside me like a coiled snake ready to not just spring but impale this man. I could feel Beherit's hunger.

I said nothing. I searched my memory for a prior encounter with him but found nothing. Like me, he had the pale skin and light coloring suggesting an old Aerdy heritage.

The man was practically cavalier in his tone. I'd say he was unafraid but that wouldn't accurately describe the situation. This man wasn't even deferential. Perhaps he did not know who I was, not entirely. But then he called me...he called us Beherdan. Regardless, for all of his research or knowledge, he exercised no caution. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or strike. "I would like you to bring the Gray Fox to me," he said.

No clarification was necessary. "Who are you?" I replied.

The man did not miss a beat: "My name is Darius Argosson. Please understand, I mean the Gray Fox no harm."

I recognized the family name - a minor Duchy of Urnst. But I did not know the connection he might have with Treig. I had only heard of the Gray Fox in passing - a soldier of fortune having developed a certain renown. I had now witnessed his prowess first hand on more than one occasion and to say he was proficient would grossly under represent this man's skill. As I identified in those first moments back in Greyhawk, Trieg, the Gray Fox - whatever one wanted to call him - was an assassin. He was ruthless, efficient, and did not trifle with mental and moral handicaps most self-impose.

My hackles did not lower. As with Lief delivering new orders to Treig in Diamond Lake, there was something off. How could anyone have known where to find us let alone this quickly? I didn't know I'd be here until a few hours ago!

As if reading my thoughts, Darius continued in a deflective way: "He has entered the Whispering Cairn, a place I cannot go. I can reward you for this service."

I was silent. The gathering supernatural storm began to intermittently release large rain droplets each making a loud 'thwack' sound as they hit the ground - or hissing sound as they hit Ember. I regarded this Darius Argosson. "If you are familiar with the Gray Fox, then you must also know that there is no 'forcing' him to do anything. I will pass along your message, but that is all. I need no reward."

Again, without missing a beat, Darius responded: "I accept. Perhaps I can assist you, then...on your trek inside. It's the least I could do, after all."

We established what precisely he was offering - a selection of spell effects that might aid me in entering the Cairn undetected, and I accepted. I would know if the spells he was casting were not what he proposed and if that happened...well, if that happened, I would let Beherit drink him. But true to his word, he made me invisible and cast a spell that would obfuscate my tracks.

The droplets were coming down more quickly now. I tied Ember to one of the trees using his fireproof reins and crested the next hill watching Darius melt back into the shadows from whence he came. I was not surprised to find a small kobold army amassing preparing an onslought. Shortly before Beherit had taken over earlier, I had heard Treig mention that reinforcements were on their way. While I wasn't concerned with a few handful of kobolds, a few hundred was another story. On top of the small army, there appeared to be several half dragon or dragon kin lieutenants corralling them. I looked beyond to see what was holding them up and spotted several bird men flying in the sky. They must have been the ones to summon the storm. Several lightning bolts lanced through the kobold ranks and my suspicions were confirmed.

As much as I savored exploiting these boons of magical stealth, leaving these bird men to fend off the army meant two things: I'd be leaving the outcome of the battle to fate - a vengeful and hateful mistress to me over the centuries - and I'd be trusting that whatever business Egan had in the Cairn was in good faith with the birdmen rather than provocative of their ire. Most importantly, the apparent single exit to the Cairn would be blocked - either by hostile green worm worshipers or these avian elemental defenders. I had to ensure the destruction of the army as well as allegiance with the guardians.

I used the magical protections to skirt the kobold force and approach the Cairn along its cliff face. I moved behind the birdmen and then, invisibly, simply walked into their ranks unannounced. I positioned myself in the direct center of their front line. They didn't hear me approach until I was within a few feet because of the noise from the storm. But hearing my armor and noting my invisibility, they thought me some sort of air elemental champion and a cheer went up among their ranks. I did nothing to dissuade them of this delusion. There is simply no way this would have worked without Darius's spells. Perhaps Lady Fate had given me a moment's respite.

The magi among the birdmen summoned a large Windwall that made the army's missiles useless. In addition, the wall closed off our primary front. At the urging of their lieutenant, a few kobolds tried to push through the wall and were unceremoniously launched into the sky amidst pulverizing debris. The impact of their return trip to the ground killed any that survived the flaying. The kobold army was reduced to approaching in near single file ranks from either end of the wall. Never the less, their dragonkin leaders adapted quickly and within moments had directed a few squadrons around the wall. They now numbered only in the dozens, but more waves were on their way.

My engagement with the first wave ended the invisibility. While this may have provoked surprise and wariness amidst the birdmen, it provoked terror amidst the kobolds. They didn't expect a devil to tread among them. Moreover, the guardians could not mistake my intent. I slaughtered kobolds by the handful. What few kobolds remained could not get past to me to the guardians' spellcasters. I was the second wall. Whether they liked their deceptive ally or not, my service to their cause was unmistakable.

This strategy was potential sustainable, but highly inefficient. I needed to take out their lieutenants. Kobolds are about as far from courageous as is possible. If I could remove the drivers, the army would disintegrate. What I needed was a duel. Make an example of one of the dragon men would frighten the other lieutenants into fleeing. As it turned out, the largest among them standing eye to me in my armor, with wings half again as wide as the creature was tall had the opposite idea. I was the only thing standing in the way of his army. If he could remove me, the kobolds would overwhelm the guardians and as soon as that wind wall went down...the battle was won.

Pity, the fool.

The black half dragon brought spells, acidic breath, and flight to bare against me. The creature was powerful, no doubt. After its initial ranged onslaught, rather than attempt recovery, I issued an Infernal challenge binding it to me...preventing its escape. It must of thought it had the upper hand as rather than attempt to break the spell, the creature continued the battle. Another wave of spells, and it closed the distance to drive its over-sized lance through my heart. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for. I unleashed Mephistopholes' chains and Beherit's eyes opened in unison. Each strike against me provoked a hellish rebuke. In horror the creature realized its error. But it was too late. Its only escape was to step into the Windwall and let its wings carry the creature to safety. But it had already sustained heavy damage from my attacks. Its hide was thicker than the kobolds but it was not enough. The debris knocked it unconscious. Rather than a controlled retreat, the unconscious half dragon was rocketed into the sky, its wings flayed to ribbons only to come crashing back to the ground. I had needed to make an example of this creature. To end the fight to quickly would not emphasize that even after the full weight of everything their most powerful could muster, there was no victory for them. The shattering of bone. The explosion of internal organs. My complete and utter victory was precisely the example that was needed. I retrieved the creatures lance - the symbol of his power. With measured tone, I held aloft and shouted my victory peaking with it being driven through the half dragon's ruined skull.

The kobold army fell into chaos. In moments, the second wave of kobolds had tossed their weapons away and fled, a few well placed lightning bolts from the avian magi exploding into the kobold ranks drove home their overwhelming defeat. Like dominoes, the further ranks fell apart, abandoning their lieutenants. The kobold army crumbled.

My exit was now secure and no matter what I looked like, there could be no mistaking my service to the guardians. I waited for one of their captains, who spoke common, and explained I needed to enter the Cairn to rejoin my allies. Allies was an exaggeration, of course, but the avian did not need to know this. He explained that two separate groups had gone in - the first was comprised of but a single individual. A man. That would be Egan. The second included three: a human, a half-elf, and an elf. That would be Treig and whomever he had met up with - perhaps allies of Egan? We mutually thanked one another and I was bid entrance. The captain pledged to continue guarding the entrance to the Whispering Cairn. With no organized force to stand against him and his magi, my second goal was now completed: my exit was now not only secure but guarded.

Now to find out more about these worms.

Gray Fox Journal: Heroes

It appeared that the circlet conferred to me more than insight into my own past. It also made me fluent in the language of the Wind Dukes. Something which would be arguably very important for anyone undertaking their quest. That person was not me. I am not a hero. That opportunity had escaped me long ago. Therefore the Circlet did not belong to me. I did what everyone would have done, I gave it to Rey. She would know what to do with it.

Removing the object was almost a relief. I no longer understood the bird-men and I was able to retreat back behind a veil of ignorance. The pain subsided a bit, but not much. Once you know the truth, you cannot hide from it. Rey donned it and took the Seal down to Seraph, leaving Jordan and I alone once again. I could tell that the man was suspicious of Rey carrying both the Rod and the Seal. Jordan was a pragmatic person and I understood his need to dilute risk. It would also stand to reason, then, that he knew why no one would trust him with the Rod.

“Treig, do you know a man named Darius,” he asked me nonchalantly. It seemed almost an afterthought to him.

I tried to control myself before I responded. The memories were playing havoc with my emotional equilibrium. “Yes I do. Why do you ask?”

“I met him outside the Cairn. He wanted me to bring you to him for a meeting.”

“So are you going to...bring me to him Jordan,” I asked cautiously. I felt my hand unconsciously reach towards my blade.

Jordan chuckled. “I doubt I could even if I wanted to. No, I merely said I would pass along the message. He emphasized that he meant you no harm, which means he intends to harm you.”

I felt the tension subsiding. Jordan was more perceptive than I gave him credit for.

“Who is he,” Jordan continued.

“An old associate of mine. We worked in the same mercenary company for some time. Came up through the ranks together, but he was eventually asked to leave. He became more of a liability than an asset.”

“I am curious about this lineage. Who were his parents,” Jordan pressed.

“Darius doesn’t have parents. He was spawned in the Abyss.”

Jordan nodded and politely let the topic drop. The timing seemed perfect as the adventuring group consisting of half-elven dragon royalty, a priestess of a mysterious tribe of wood elves, and a human sorcerer who would trade anything for power returned from their task. The two elven women wanted to leave the confines of the tomb, so Jordan and I convinced them to let one of the avian guardians hold the Rod within the boundaries of the Cairn until they returned. It took some convincing, but eventually they all agreed. I too wanted to feel the sun on my face so my plan was to take a short hike as well. That is until all pandemonium broke loose.

We were at the entrance to the Whispering Cairn when it happened. I felt something was wrong before I saw the reality around me begin to shift. Etona’s and Egan’s eyes seemed to glaze over, staring at something beyond my perception. The wood elf began to howl like an animal and tear at her clothes as Egan wondered further into the Cairn babbling about the beauty of ancient architecture. I was going to intervene, but Rey was already on them. She leapt atop Etona, pinning her to the ground as she grabbed Egan’s arm and kept him from wandering deeper into the tomb. That left only Jordan and I to face the real threat: Darius Argosson. His appearance hadn’t changed, but I knew he had sunk deeper into madness. He had also clearly grown in strength. Previously, he had dabbled in dark magic, but bending space and time was not something he had mastered when I traveled with him. As I studied Darius, it dawned on me why Jordan was asking me about his family. The two men had the same complexion and facial structure. I am not sure why I didn’t notice it before. Perhaps it was because I really wanted to forget Darius and all the memories that came with him.

He smiled wickedly as he surveilled his work. It was obvious that he did not feel threatened by us even in the slightest. “The Gray Fox! It is so good to see you again. It seems as though you have made some new friends.” He looked over the group casually. “I have already met Jordan, but these other three I am not familiar with.”

Whether sensing Rey’s unease or predicting it from his calculated actions, Darius focused his attention on her. “Did you know that Gray Fox and I worked together? We worked in the same Company. We were brothers in arms.”

I felt the blood drain from my hand as my fist clenched tightly. This must not register on an emotional level. It is what he wants. Captain Darius Argosson. Head of Counterintelligence. He called it Enhanced Interrogation. I call it torture.

“The Gray Fox,” he said pointing at me, “used to have an army. Undefeated on the field of battle. He has never failed at a mission. But in his heart, he is a loner. That is probably why he couldn’t protect his men. Now look at him. He does simple tasks for small men. He hasn’t seen the big picture yet!”

I could taste the blood pooling in my mouth. Never strike in anger Unit 43.

“I am an agent of chaos. A true instrument of our multiverse’s will! Do you know the history of the Seul? Let me tell it to you. They were a powerful civilization that lived thousands of years ago and one day vanished overnight. This event was termed the Rain of Colorless Fire. It changed the world forever.”

Keep him talking. “Is that why you allied yourself with Dragotha?”

“Of course! It was the shortest path to my objective. You taught me that Gray Fox,” he said with a sneer.

I am not sure whether that nickname was deserved. Many men died in the completion of our objectives. If I was truly the Gray Fox, I would have conceived of a way to succeed without human casualty. Darius’ was well deserved, however. No one would dare openly say it to his face, but we all knew it. Mindbender.

“Although I am an outsider to the dragonborn, this alliance puts me in close proximity to their master: Kyuss. Did you notice how his name sounds similar to chaos? Change is coming to this world. Real change and I will place my mark upon it. It is inevitable Gray Fox. You can be on the crest of the wave or in its path. The choice is yours, but either way we will meet again.” A portal opened behind him as he spoke.

“I leave you with this final gift to do with as you choose. The ring that Jordan took from the body of Ithane is a magical device that allows communication with Dragotha. A boon and a curse. While you may speak to the dragon, it will know where you are. What a dilemma for you all,” he cackled as he vanished.

I gave Jordan a steely look.

The madness seemed to follow Darius. Both Etona and Egan regained their sanity as he left. The group discussed what to do thereafter. Egan insisted that the information I had brought him be taken to Magepoint, home of the Archmage Tenser. Yes, that one. There he might also have some insight into what to do with the Rod fragment. Most thought it was a logical next step and asked the Aarakocra for their aid. Seraphs guardians agreed to use their powers to transport us to our destination in the morning. Unable to relax, we all dealt with the stress our circumstances in different ways. Rey went hunting with Obi, Etona put herself into a trance, Egan studied his Codex, Jordan groomed his hellish mount, and I took up guard duty. Being alone afforded me the chance to think about all that had transpired. I used the Stone Councilman Chozik had given me to make contact.

I have completed my objective. The package has been successfully delivered as instructed.

Good, came the response. What of our secondary objectives. Did you secure any artifacts from the Cairn?

Yes. I will send it along. As agreed upon, transfer the Deed to my name and deliver a copy to Keth at the Fox and Hound. This is the end of our contract. If I discover that you have not met your obligations, I will look for you. And I will find you.

I didn’t give the Councilman a chance to reply before activating the Stone’s true power. It crumbled into dust before my eyes leaving a small tear in space. I dropped the gem I took from the kobold shaman into the portal. Good enough for the likes of him.
_________________________________

I was enjoying a fine cigar while watching Rey skin and spit a deer when I caught the scent of brimstone. Normally this wouldn’t have been alarming but it was coming downwind and Jordan was behind me. Devils wrapped in spiked chains appeared in front of the Cairn’s entrance, while their Osyluth companions cut off our escape. One of the Kytons stepped forward and spoke in its native tongue.

“Give us the Rod,” it commanded.

I tried to buy some time so we could mobilize for a counteroffensive. “You are outmatched Devil. Our forces vastly outnumber yours.”

It did not react, probably more worried about what the Arch-Devil who sent it here would do to it if it failed in its task. That’s when Jordan stepped forward in his summoned fiendish armor.

“Fools! Who sent you here on this mission,” Jordan demanded in flawless Infernal.

The Kytons did not respond immediately but paused in their advance.

“The item has already been secured. I am in the midst of disposing of the pawns I used to get it and returning to the Lord of Nine Hells. Do you dare interfere with Asmodeus plans?!”

The devils seemed shaken. Even I started to believe him.

Without a word, the entire ambush party vanished in a burst of flame. The smell of sulfur lingered in the air.

“We need to leave soon,” Jordan said. “The bureaucracy of the Nine Hells is slow, but it does work. We have maybe a day before they return in force.” I could see the fear in his eyes.

It was a reflex. I broke down the camp as I did hundreds of times before, giving orders and directing logistics. By the time I realized what I had done, everyone was assembled and ready to be transported to Magepoint. I was about to apologize to everyone, when Rey interrupted me. She had wordlessly extended her hand. In it she held the Circlet.

“If you are going to be a part of this group, you really need to stop blending in.”

I smiled despite myself and placed the Circlet on my head. I had only a moment to feel the change come over me again before we vanished in a flash of light.
_______________________________________________

I had heard of Magepoint only through the rumors of drunken merchants. No soldier would dare approach the sleepy village, as it was under the direct protection of Tenser, a member of the Circle of Eight. His associates included Melf, Bigby, and even Mordenkainen. This was a man not to be trifled with. I despised going into negotiations without leverage, but we didn’t have time on our side.

We appeared at the edge of the village, the treeline behind us and the placid lake ahead. A narrow bridge spanned from the shore and led to a small island atop which stood the Castle of Unknown Depths. Magepoint lived up to its name. Our teleportation spell was directed to specific location, where a wizened old gnome awaited us in a booth with the word “Information” written in magical glyphs above him. I read it in Common, but I was fairly certain that the letters would change to whatever language the visitor was most comfortable speaking.

“May I help you,” he asked us. He barely looked up from the parchment he was scribbling on.

I stepped forward and tried to inject some urgency into his day. “It is imperative that we meet with Archmage Tenser at his earliest convenience. We have with us powerful artifacts that he will wish to inspect immediately.”

“Name,” the gnomed persisted. He seemed completely unphased by my declaration. I was unsure how much weight my name carried, so instead I opted to use Rey. “This is Rey, the Dragonspeaker.”

The gnome looked up quizzically. I could see that he had no idea who she was. “And whom does she serve?”

“Seraph,” I replied.

Still nothing.

The gnome took his spectacles off and placed them on the desk. “Lord Tenser entertains a number of powerful guests. At the moment he is indisposed. Please make yourself at home in the All-Seeing Eye, our local inn. There you will be contacted by a woman named Celeste.”

“What does she look like?”

The gnome opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to change his mind. Instead he held his arm aloft and conjured a perfect image of the woman he wanted us to meet.

This was getting interesting.
________________________

It turned out that Celeste was not the only person waiting for us. She was accompanied by Elgios, which seemed like an impossibility, since Jordan assured me that he was murdered. Apparently Celeste recovered his body in Greyhawk and brought it to Magepoint, whereupon the sage was resurrected by Tenser’s personal High Priest: a man by the name of Agath. Not a bubbly priest of Pelor, mind you. This guy reminded me of a Priestess of Wee Jas I once knew. All business. Another of Tenser’s consorts, a woman by the name of Cymria, was also there. She invited us to stay in the castle and await the Archmage’s return. Etona and Rey had little interest in staying indoors for the day, but when it was discovered that the inner courtyard was populated by a forest of Redwoods, that changed. Jordan and Egan quickly disappeared into the local library to gather knowledge that had eluded their grasp thus far. I enjoyed the solitude, even for a brief moment.

Time passed quickly and it wasn’t long before we were summoned by Tenser to his inner sanctum. The room was exactly as I had imagined it. Egan was beside himself as we waited for the Archmage to join us.

“Look at this,” Egan squealed as he pointed to a Dragonchess board. “I saw this exact configuration in Allustan’s office. He never moved the pieces and I always wondered why he kept it around. It must be an ongoing game between him and Tenser!”

The board was arrayed in mid-game. Clearly one side was being dominated. But not defeated. I moved a piece almost without thought. It seemed like the most logical step to take back ground. It was quite a gambit, but with so much lost there was no going back. Always forward.

I was not sure how long Tenser had been standing there, but if he was irate with my impertinence, he gave no sign. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I heard you were looking for me. What can I do for you?”

Since no one immediately spoke up, I gave a detailed report on the events that had transpired in Greyhawk and Diamond Lake. Rey, not one for much conversation, pulled the Rod fragment out of her backpack and slammed it down upon the Archmage’s desk. I thought in that moment, all of our lives had ended. Even the mighty Tenser looked to be in awe of the artifact in front of him. Whatever insult we had delivered was lost on his amazement.

“Then the Age of Worms is upon us,” he whispered. “Balakard was not mad after all.”

“It is a dangerous artifact Lord Tenser,” I said.

“Indeed Treig. Do you know what this is?” He did not wait for my response before continuing. “This is the keystone piece of the Rod of Seven Parts. It is the largest of all the fragments. This means that all other parts of the Rod are attracted to this one. Making it the most powerful.”

“We have brought it to you for safekeeping.”

“That is not the only reason you are here, is it Treig? You are here because there are no coincidences.”

“Sir,” I asked with genuine confusion.

“Over the last few years, prophecies foretold over a thousand years past have come to be. Kyuss’ legacy endures. He was an inhabitant of the Amedio jungle far to the south. There he built a following of worshippers that were sacrificed for his ascension to Godhood. The grim edifice of his unholy transformation, known as the Spire of Long Shadows, remains to this day. A colleague of mine, Balakard, went to explore these ruins some time ago. He returned with some of his research, but alas has gone missing.”

“How does any of this help us destroy Dragotha,” Rey interjected.

“I am not entirely sure,” Tenser replied. “However, if this Dragotha is an agent of Kyuss the answers may lie far to the south.”

“With all due respect Lord Tenser, our group is not comprised of heroes. I would even go so far as to say a few of us are very far from it. This expedition sounds extremely dangerous with a possibility of yielding very little actionable information. Every instinct I have tells me that this is not an intelligent decision. To be frank, I am not even sure why I am here now.”

The archmage smiled. “And yet here you are. You are here because you are lost and are in search of something greater than yourself. You have been wondering, trying to hide from it. But there is no escaping what you are. These people that you have arrived with are not strangers to you Treig. They are your comrades. Men and women woven together by destiny. What you seek cannot be bought. It is something beyond the grasp of most, but directly before you now. What you seek is purpose. It is knocking at your door. Will you answer? Many lives will depend on your choices.”

I sighed and lit another cigar. “I don’t speak for everyone. We will have to discuss this before we can give you an answer. But I can say this, we don’t work for free.”

“I never said you were stupid,” Tenser replied with a grin. “What will you need?”

“Magic. Lots of magic.”

Journal of Etona - 22

(removed due to many errors introduced by this site)

Gray Fox Journal: Heart of Darkness

It took some doing, but the group finally managed to reach consensus on what our immediate path forward should be. Everyone decided that exploration of the ancient city far to the south where Kyuss was believed to have amassed his power was the logical decision. It was obvious, even to Jordan. But the ancient knight couldn’t help but inject complication into the plan by insisting that assembling the Rod of Seven Parts should be our priority. His conspiracy theory was quite extensive and took nearly an hour to explain, threatening to draw us away from the task at hand. I waited until he was done before informing him that leaving the Rod with the Archmage Tenser was a part of the plan to draw enemies off of our trail while we gathered more information on Kyuss. It would be foolish to fight the Wormgod’s minions while tangling with the Nine Hells over the artifact.

“Do you play Dragonchess Jordan,” I asked him.

“I must admit it has been some time since I enjoyed the game. Why do you ask Treig,” Jordan responded.

“Often novices to the Game will protect their most powerful piece at the expense of victory, believing that it will grant them dominance in the later stages of the conflict. We are merely in the Opening now. Temporarily leaving the Rod with Tenser is part of the larger plan to achieve exactly what you are hoping for.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Very well.”

Negotiations with Tenser were much less stressful. He agreed to nearly every request we had. It was obvious that the Age of Worms prophecy was a priority for him. That had me a bit concerned. GIven the enemy we would face and the environment we would be subjected to, we needed specific weaponry, countermeasures, and knowledge. Also, we would have to start working as a team and not separate entities that did not trust one another. Tenser provided his castle to be our base of operations, allowing us to research the Amedio jungle, repurpose our equipment, add suitable items to our inventory, and train with each other. We were even able to gain more companions on our expedition: Verdre and Kio. Verdre was Etona’s cousin and a battle-hardened druid. Kio, a student of Tenser’s, was no longer human.

“I assumed that given the type of adversaries you would be facing, it might be wise to bring individuals who would not be subject to necrotic transformation. Kio,” the archmage said as he introduced the mechanised man, “has had his spirit transferred into a construct. Consciousness in the Inanimate is not new. My time on Mechanus has greatly advanced my research.” Tenser then looked over to Rey. “I understand that you have an owlbear that travels with you. If you wish it, I could perform the same ritual I used on Kio. I doubt she would fare well where you are planning to go.”

“Once you...transfer Obi’s spirit into this object, what will happen to her body,” Rey asked hesitantly.

“We would keep her body in stasis until your return,” Tenser responded.

“What if her new body was...destroyed,” Rey continued.

“There is a phylactery embedded into the constructs that houses the spirit. It can be removed and if returned to me intact, I will be able to perform the ritual to regraft it back to its original host.”

A ghost in the machine.

The archmage had Cymeria give a seminar on the composition and maintenance of constructs. I made everyone attend. In addition we ran military drills every morning. The rest of the the time went by quickly. I spent a large portion of it learning all I could about our destination by attending scrying sessions, speaking with sages, and doing my own research in the library. I also worked with Etona and Verdre to develop a silent signaling system based off of their homeland’s native language. This would allow us to communicate without alerting our enemy.

When the day finally came for us to travel to Kuluth-Mar, we were ready. Well, almost. I had one last piece of business before we were transported. I tried to see Tenser after his meeting with some ambassadors from Mechanus. Apparently they had a piece of the Rod on their plane and were enthusiastic, as much as automatons can be, to verify that the largest piece had been found by one of their allies. Tenser confirmed that it was true and even gave our group the credit for discovering the artifact.

After bidding the Inevitables a good journey, the archmage turned to me.

“What can I do for you Treig.”

“I know that you have given much already, but I have one last personal request. If I survive this expedition, I would like you to use your contacts in Greyhawk to secure me the position of Master of Games. It has recently become available.”

The wizard smiled. “I can think of no one better suited for the task than you.”

“I am glad to hear you say that.”
__________________________

The sickening sensation of falling into an endless void was quickly replaced by the oppressive humidity of the jungle. We had arrived as the sun began to set, per our elven companions. Etona and Verdre insisted that we journey at dusk to obscure our approach. Everyone was on edge, including Jordan. He had summoned his infernal armor almost immediately, sensing the gravity of our situation. Cymeria had transported us to the exact point we had tasked for her. Hard to do, even for a mage of her talents. Kio scanned the surrounding area before we embarked.

“Sixty life forms detected. All entities native to the environment.”

“What about those that are not native,” I asked.

“No such entities detected in range.”

He wasn’t very comforting.

As we had practiced in simulation, some of our group scouted ahead to ensure the path forward was clear of enemies while the rest took defensive positions around our most vulnerable members. It didn’t take long to find the ruins of the ancient city. The ziggurat was the only structure still standing, surrounded by an obsidian wall over thirty feet tall. For a moment, the landscape melted away and reformed. We were standing in the ancient necropolis watching thousands of Kyuss’ zealots chant his name as he sat in a throne atop his spire. And then just as quickly as the vision came, it was gone.

We approached cautiously, dodging parties of roving trolls and Yuan-ti, the savage snake people often spoke of in lore. Upon the dark barrier encircling the spire was a phrase in draconic which was repeated over and over: “Kyuss forever bound.” Apparently a group of very powerful magi, the Wardens of the First Watch, sealed Kyuss and his followers within the structure long ago. The secrets to his past are within for any brave enough to face them.

Scaling the wall was a simple matter. We did so with mundane means as I was worried our group was becoming too reliant on magical enhancements. Always leave yourself a way out. While atop the wall, Etona, Rey, and Verdre circled the perimeter while I kept an eye on the remaining party. The mechanized Obi also stayed, given that she was no longer very silent. Frankly, I felt more comfortable with a steel owlbear guarding my back.

I saw it before I heard it. The chittering screams of giant worm-infested beetles scurrying back towards the ziggurat. Something had gone wrong. Instinctively I moved towards the elves, but stopped and held my position when I saw what they had called to their aid: an undead knight. It summoned the beetles and leapt atop one of them as one would a steed. The knight hadn’t moved his forces before a silver streak cut through the dark and severed the worm-ridden leg from his pelvis. Etona.

The divine power seemed to play havoc with both the knight and the beetle, but they recovered quickly. Despite the lack of an appendage and a grievously wounded mount, the knight pulled himself back on and rode towards the elves. Egan was saying something.

“Should I make a distraction to get their attention?”

“What did you have in mind,” I replied distracted.

Just then a thunderstorm formed inside the compound. Ozone filled the air and thunder echoed through the forest. I turned on the warlock in horror. What have you done?!

“What about that,” Egan exclaimed in triumph.

“Probability of survival has dramatically diminished,” Kio intoned.

I agreed with him. Our chances had been altered. The only good news was that our sniper was doing serious damage to our foes. So much so that they took refuge behind the remnants of a collapsed building. The stone prevented Etona from getting a clean shot, which meant that we would have to get this done on the ground. I looked over to Jordan, who had murder in his eyes. I think he was very close to letting the devil take control of him and collect Egan’s soul. Though I am not sure he would get it. Apparently Egan has promised it to a number of entities already. Either way, we had to get off this wall or whatever was in the jungle was going to finish what the spawns of Kyuss did not. I tried to diffuse the situation and move forward with a sound strategy, so I pushed Egan off the wall. I am not ashamed to say that it felt good.

Like the rest of us, he floated to the ground unscathed. The amulets given to us by the aarakocra let us ride the wind unharmed. We hit the ground softly with surprise. The earth shifted under our feet, green worms breaking the surface and burrowing back down again. Maybe Etona had the right idea after all. I tried to ignore the disgust roiling in my stomach and kept moving us forward. That’s when Jordan activated his ring. We were immediately surrounded by a field of ancient spirits, I imagine his ancestors. The ghosts burned away the worms, clearing a path of protection for us as we moved to intercept the guardians hiding within the courtyard.

We fell upon the wounded beetles violently. At this point, Rey had joined us on the ground and quickly moved within Jordan’s protective circle. She had a front row seat to Jordan’s savagery. Once both insects came into contact with his protective field, it melted right through their carapaces. Jordan leapt upon them, tearing them open with his burning gauntleted fists. It sounded like an egg cracking and the sight of all those wriggling worms spewing out of the broken body was enough to almost make me sick. I’ve been in dozens of battles, seen men do unspeakable things to one another. I would carry this scene in my nightmares for all time.

Despite my nausea, we were doing quite well. Our only foe was hiding within the ruins of an old building, his allies completely annihilated. So why did I still feel so uneasy? Almost as if in response to my question, the universe showed me. From the entrance of the ziggurat, two more creatures appeared. Over seven feet tall, with pale skin, and draped within rotten feathered wings. They held aloft blades made of dark stone. Where their eyes once rested now protruded green worms. Once the most noble of all creatures of the multiverse, now reduced to thralls of Kyuss. Suddenly the phrase “Goddamn it” really had meaning.

In the past: Verdre unconscious at the Great Tree of Rishkar's tribe

Verdre is unconscious in the nursery of Rishkar’s tribe, having called forth her Mistress’ radiant wrath from deep inside herself. She collapses with a curse to Sehanine on her lips.

She is panting in a shallow pool of hot water.

“Do you think I do not know your heart, girl?”

The voice is caustic but familiar. It is her own but layered with the unmistakable five tones of Sehanine-in-dream.

Her eyes snap open. She is in a smoky place, humid, surrounded by eggs and crawling green worms. Immediately she sits up and sets to blasting them with Moonbeams, shattering some of the eggs. Each cracks open with a tiny dying elf inside. She stares: a wiry Etona with short, black hair. Another is pale, willowy Etona with long, silver hair. Others are child Etonas and baby Etonas, all dying.

“The humans have an ironic saying,” the voice continues. “You cannot make an omelet without breaking some eggs.”

Now an Etona in front of her is me’ara inra, her sister-in-law, Etona’s mother Fiora. Verdre’s closest friend until she died giving birth to her holy daughter.

A twin of herself is perched atop a huge black egg in her peripheral vision. It had been filling the back part of the room, only it is not an egg when she looks at it directly: it is a throne gleaming silver and platinum though the base is black, black with pinpoints and flares and trails of everything in the heavens. The throne from fae tales forgotten by her own tribe long ago. Seeing it now makes her think she is in a ghastly and nonsensical play, and expected to say her lines correctly.

This other Verdre, atop the throne, looks down at her body. She runs her hands across herself. “Mmm, I like this one. So much stronger than little Etona’s. And so full of wrath and the self-righteousness of loss. You do not know loss, girl.” She hops down. “Listen.”

It had been there the entire time, a faint thrumming. Now it grows louder. It is rhythmic, the sound of a hundred staves hitting a stone floor in a vast cavern, the mighty sound echoing. After every few thrummms bellows a crowd, “i’YOOSS!” or something like that word. It wasn’t one she knew. The terrible sound is all around. Sehanine-as-Verdre, who was strolling in a circle around the chamber idly dragging her finger along the wall, completes the full circuit. Below her trace, the room abruptly falls away tumbling into a milky pool beneath Verdre’s feet. It shrinks to nothingness only to reappear as a growing shape: a round hub at the center of eight endless lines of people, thousands of them, every species she’s ever heard of and more, each holding a staff, pounding it in time and shouting that word, which she hears more clearly now: “KYUSS!”

Every one of them is afflicted with dark green wriggling worms poking out from all over their bodies.

At the center of all this is a seven-foot man adorned in gold and also holding a staff, but his is not mere wood: it is black, oily, its surface undulating. As she stares, each of its folds gives off dark purple sparks where they touch, and in each spark she sees entire worlds.

The figure looks up at the two of them, or rather, at Sehanine whose eyes, Verdre is alarmed to see, are wide with fear.

“Mistress!” she calls.

There is abruptly silence below. Verdre looks back, and the figure is just a bow’s length away. Sehanine is transfixed.

Verdre runs to … now Sehanine-as-Etona … and steps in front of her.

“Mistress, Etona! You must snap out of it. Mistress!”

But Sehanine-as-Etona looks on with a dead expression.

Verdre whirls to the eyes, catches their gaze and glares back.

“You face me now, Abyss spawn,” she says. “But I have already won. I lend my will to yss’awara, the Way of Things. I am part of the Way; I can fight forever. I will fight you forever.”

The figure stares fully at Verdre now. It is rot and despair, the relentlessness of every living thing decaying, its body corrupting to spawn writhing insects. It says nothing.

“I do not fear death,” Verdre replies to the void in its eyes. “When I die, from my body springs the world. You mimic the Way of Things. You have already lost.”

The black figure dissolves leaving behind delighted laughter bouncing around the room. Female laughter from behind her.

Verdre turns back around to see Sehanine-as-Tamyl, leader of the Children of the Mirror, standing tall over her.

“Good,” the goddess continues, nodding. “Soon, you will likely die for your cousin. If you last long enough, you will die for me. It is this sacrifice will hasten the defeat what we face, Verdre. This enemy of all life does not know the Way of Things. We will teach Him.”

“Who is he?”

“His avatar is Kyuss, but it is only His latest servant. You know the master as the Green Man. Yes, real, and more dangerous than demon lords and arch devils against whom they are angry ants on a volcano. The Green Man cannot be defeated by mortals or even a posse of gods tied merely to a handful of worlds.

“But that is not our task today. Today, His avatar is the one we must overcome. He is the obstacle placed by the universe and I must pass him on, a disease to kill my own children. I will watch you die. It will shrivel a part of me, but this is what love calls us to do. It is why others a thousand years hence and perhaps worlds away will continue the fight against the master, because we gave everything, here, this day, to fell a servant.

“You and Etona and noble Fiona and Skaen: all of you, my brave children, are here.” She brings the two fingers from each hand up to her temple and bends forward, pressing her forehead against Verdre’s.

A splash of images: her tribe, the shining lake of the Mirror and the beautiful forest around it; laughter from friends and family seen through one another’s eyes. She recognizes every scene, every face.

But in a single wind they become blackened ruin. Shambling, ever-hungry and dead, everyone she ever knew rove about mindlessly, creaking and writhing; Kyuss a tower above them, a temple shaped like a cactus behind him. In the sky, Her Radiant Regard, the full moon, blotches with black pools until it is blotted out completely becoming an oily sphere of corruption. She cannot breathe, her bones become brittle and crack, she withers and, with a final gasp of utter loss, she dies.

The goddess withdraws. “Do you see?” Sehanine-as-Fiora says.

Verdre falls to her feet, head on the floor in front of her. “I am a cawing crow,” She feels rare tears flow. “Please forgive me.”

A hand on her shoulder. It slides under her chin and gently pulls up her gaze to Her own. It is Sehanine Herself. The Moon Goddess. Creator of her own people.

“My Verdre. I know your heart. I desired your understanding, for with it comes your love. Rise now. I have restored my blessing to you. Return to your cousin but tarry on the way. You will know where.”

“Mistress?”

“A last question?”

“Yes. Can you not slay this enemy? Not Kyuss, but his master?”

“I and my infinite sisters and brothers must come together. That is far ahead. The quarry this night,” she calls out, “is the one in front of you now. Fell foul Kyuss and all who derive strength from him, and I will have voice for the Great Hunt to come.”

Around Verdre her entire tribe, Etona in front, stand with her. They have, she suddenly understands, been there all along.

“Go,” says Sehanine, towering now and glowing brighter and brighter, becoming the moon. “Lead. Fall if you must, but take our quarry to ground.”

***

She wakes up in the ancient tree housing Rishkar’s people. Etona smiles over her.

“Were you–?” Verdre begins.

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.”

“We must not fail,” Verdre asserts.

Etona curls up onto her, burying her head in the crook of her aunt’s neck. Verdre realizes she has been there already some time.

“We won’t,” she whispers in reply.

We might, my darling Etona, she thinks. But you will not. You have never known how.

Journal of Etona - 22

There was a portal just inside a room laden with statues that were statues only if one spoke a magic word to them, otherwise they were swift engines of destruction. I sometimes have a little trouble with names, so I will not try to reproduce the word here in case I am trebly: wrong, unaware of being wrong, and in dire need of speaking it. Fortunately the other three seem to know it, so I can concentrate on other things.

Before we went through the portal, Rey and the two humans had a fruitless adventure in the adjoining chamber, opening doors to unpleasant surprises, one of them a passage to the Elemental Plane of Ice or Snow or Cold. Then there was ice and lava and a monster and peril and everyone needed to get back to the sealed-off room I was in, and controlling the door to, before they died. Jodan, the cursed human who is chained to Hell in some way, was last to exit by several strides. As they were rushing back to me I saw that I could, and very nearly did, close the door on him, un-openable from his side. He probably would have died there and the world would be minus one devil’s pawn.

But I did not do that.

I look back on it and wonder why I let him through, aside from a sharp “Etona!” from Rey. But there was a second where he and I made eye contact. He saw it, the struggle in my eyes, saw me release the handle but catch it before it dropped the bars more than hand span.

Why let him live?

My Mistress has done this to me before: ordered me to save a monster, in that case one who had killed and eaten a human child. I had to step between an angry mob – some of them in my own party – and that feral man to demand that he live. Live he did. I lost track of him soon after and was unable – in my subsequent banishment from the Mirror – to ask my people to keep an eye on him.

Everything about that was unfair. She is unfair, but it is because life is that way, and you must make your own rules. I have always believed that Her love for us, for merely for being alive, is unfair to Her, but She must do it anyway. So from time to time She visits wrath upon us, upon me. It is no more or less than the will of the universe.

For Jodan, I hear no such voice whispering in my ears to save the devil-man. But my vision was unequivocal: light the way for this creature from another game board; be the guiding moonlight for the battled-scarred courier; try to save Eager the Unwise; and of course, shine for my sister-dragon, Rey.

***

The portal opened to a cavern that was open and spacious but hundreds of fathoms deeper into the earth. A shadowy figure who could see all of us sat on a rock. He was unmoving until he spoke the name of each of our races. Morato, the ghoul.

He doesn’t wear the classic ghoul look: he seems like any ordinary, if quite still and pale, man. Undead to be sure: the scent of undeath is always obvious, at least to my kind. He hails, he says, from the White City, an undead metropolis that is well-enough known for there to be stories even we Mirror elves have told our children for generations. His own tale was one of banishment from there, a trajectory that has him sweeping the world for knowledge.

“What knowledge?” I asked.

“All, eventually. I am a seeker of knowledge.”

“Admirable, from a living being. From one such as you, I must know your motive.”

“I am no danger to the people you protect, priestess. I have always been a collector of lore, mathematics, magicks. The Raven Queen would end me and my pursuits for no other reason than she can – how could I help being born a short-lived human? – but she is not the only god and hers is the not the only law, and so I continue but in undeath.”

“Morato, sir,” says Trifle, changing the subject. “Do you have the book?”

“It is here.” Morato points to it on a rock next to him. “It is sealed with runes making it untouchable and thus un-carryable, but you may take it, if you can,” says Morato. “… if you also aid me in destroying Flycatcher and securing my passage past all the traps in this place.”

“And if we don’t have that on our agenda?” our courier returns.

“Then I will have to deal with all this myself which will take a very long time. Tedious. And you will not have the tome you seek.”

I glance at Rey and Treacle with a pass of my fingers across Angivre. They correctly read my question: Why do we not simply rid the world of this creature?

Rey narrows her eyes, considering. It is not her first choice. Trireme’s reaction is much stronger, shaking his head and mouthing "No." He is staring into my eyes, faced away from the ghoul. Jodan has merely raised an eyebrow: I don’t think incidental violence matters to him.

Why have Treig’s opinions begun to matter to me? He has some charisma, I grant that. His fellow cuille temoer undoubtedly follow him whenever he leads: he is calm, commanding, casually menacing, and above all, competent. I expect he comes from some human military organization.

Since there is depth to him, I tuck away my bow in a symbolic gesture that also refuses, this time, my Mistress’s standing commandment to aid the Raven Queen and smite all the undead I meet. My Shining Lady’s alliance with the Grey Lady is well-known to most, but the Queen’s tasks are not specifically ours here in the Fade, and my Mistress would have us above all follow Her own missives. Among them is orei orest, “let shadows be shadows”, and of course, be curious.

Very well.

“We will not kill Flycatcher unless he attacks us,” I say. “Otherwise, yes, we must have this tome and so we will aid you.”

He agrees, and the tension that evidently I was causing leaves the room.

Morato turns conversational: he asks us questions about the surface, the Age of Worms and the undead it seems to be producing. Jodan and … Treig respond. Yes, I will remember his name now. Anyway, the ghoul reassures us that the hunger most undead carry around does not burden him.

We show him the portal back up, invisible to any who don’t know exactly where to look. At the top, he offers magick to float around. Everyone accepts but me. I prefer to use – what did Rey say in trying to get a smile out of me? – Obi Express.

At the top, before we enter Flycatcher’s chamber, Jodan and Treig create a fake tome for the exchange. The deception cannot be helped: we must retain the real tome for the time being, and we cannot explain this to the spider-being. After some planning, it is decided that Treig will make the trade. Jodan will be out of range, Morato out of the scene entirely, Rey with Treig, and me creeping in carefully to monitor and react to whatever happens next.

Treig takes my Twilight, a stone onto which I have placed the light of quenae sehan, light of Her full face. This will be important in a moment.

“You have returned!” we hear the voice of Flycatcher when we enter his hall again.

“Yes, we have the satchel,” returns Treig.

“Excellent! There is a niche in the wall.”

“No deal. No exchange until we have confirmation that Egan is unharmed.”

Eager appears, wrapped in something black. He is bound, only his eyes are visible.

“That could be anyone. Release him first.”

The coil of darkness releases.

“’Oo is that?” Eager points at Treig. “And where’s that spider thing? I’m loathe ta tangle wit’ it again.”

“We are here, and you are safe for now,” says Rey, calming him. He looks at me and I nod my confirmation.

“I formally deliver this to you, Egan,” says Treig passing him a small parcel. “My task is complete.” Still floating, he takes the satchel with the false tome in it over to a door to the south, one we have not been through. Beyond is a small room with Vati runes, small statues and a niche with a little altar. Treig tosses the bag into the niche.

“As I suspected,” Flycatcher says almost immediately, “You do not return to me the tome!”

I suppose we will need to do this the hard way.

I open my mouth to speak – I would like to talk this out – but Treig flicks his cigar at where he thinks Flycatcher is. This elicits a curse from the invisible creature. Rey floats over and manages to stab the invisible creature outright, revealing it.

A drider. Half Drow, half spider. I had heard of such things – we all of us of the Mirror had, of course – but only a handful had ever seen one.

What a twisted mess. Would I do this to myself in utter obeisance to my own Mistress of Shadows, if demanded? Then again, what is a body but a tool? We are all soil, in the end. This, our druids impress on us daily.

And yet, look at it: black and twisted, a mashup of two utterly unlike creatures. And too many legs!

And yet, and yet, is that not how I thought of Obi, merely a monster?

The shadowy webs writhe and wave around us, and then I feel one become a part of this world. They are also crawling up Eager. With a word, I summon a flash of Her purifying light. The tendrils fall to ash, the webs that were still shadows simply cease to be.

We fight Flycatcher. Treig is all over the creature: he seems bound up with it somehow. It tries to fade out over and over again but the stone imbued with the light of Her full face seems to be preventing this. Blinded from another small explosion from Treig, and deafened as well, he should have been an easy mark but I could not raise Angivre’s arquae. My intuition all along was not to kill Flycatcher, and My Mistress appears to agree.

It retreats into the altar room, all advantage lost, Treig attached to it stabbing with multiple adept dagger strikes and grapples. Before I could summon the wits to stop the melee, he and Rey have killed it. Truly I do not know what I would have said to it had we not slain it, but I feel something would have come to me. It always has.

Eager waxes chatty to Rey after the creature dissolves into darkness upon its death. We release Moreto who leaves us, heading for Greyhawk. They will be one another’s problem now.

“So what is your interest in Egan?” Rey asks Jodan, all protective of the magician.

“Kyuss, the worms, the undead. He,” pointing to Eager, “is the wizard I have been led to from wizard before and the wizard before that. He is the last one in the chain who might have information. Additionally, his dealings with the Asmodi – the nature of the pact, what he gave up, what he learned – are also valuable in my quest.”

“Which is?” I ask.

“Ah. Yes,” the human replies. “A long time ago, my wife-to-be died from the green worms. At the peak of my madness as I watched this play out in front of me, I was offered a choice – keep living and be cured, or join her in death. I chose to live. Beyond simply wanting to be alive, I had responsibilities. But I would come to know that this choice led to suffering something worse than worms. I am cursed instead, and by the Lord of Hell himself.”

“How long have you been in this state?”

“Centuries.”

“What drives you to continue? Or are you unable to die now?”

“Oh, this physical form could be destroyed, of that I have ample proof assembled through the countless years. But I would remain in torment. So I intend to slay my tormentor with the Rod of Seven Parts, the very weapon I need, with which I can destroy Asmodeus and lift a scourge from this world.”

That prompts quite an exchange about power and vengeance and the unintended consequences of killing the Lord of Hell. I have no choice, I explain, but to stand in his way as priestess of Sehanine. A vengeful, possibly crazed man bent on killing the Emperor of the Nine Circles will only bring ruin. I believe I swayed both Rey and Treig.

“I told you all this,” Jodan continues, “because I wanted you to consider that Asmodeus is behind everything that has transpired thus far. I have the benefit of seeing the long game – I believe I am older even than you two elves, if I am not mistaken – and this is precisely the sort of misdirection and grand scheme he plays.”

Treig replies: “Maybe, but should we not fight the enemy in front of us?”

“You don’t know who I am,” replies Jodan. “… a man forced into this binding bargain but able to see the machinations of the one who did this to him.”

“Yes, but it is important to know what’s going to happen after the war has begun,” adds Treig, and I find myself nodding in agreement.

“Well then, what will we do if we find the part of the rod?”

“Give it to the arch-mage, Tenser, if he’ll have it,” says Treig.

“That would be unwise. Have you heard about the first Death Knight? No? Mm. Keep power, like the Rod, away from political figures. They cannot be trusted.”

Eager, in the meantime, has opened the suitcase. There is a note inside that reads: Take this to my mentor, Manzorian the Arch-Mage. It goes on:

Caius is in an ancient temple in a jungle with an end of the world cult, the Ebon Triad. Did they create the worms? They may be connected to Jubilex or the Far Realm.

“If Jubilex is involved, that might bring the attention of Hell,” says Jodan, reading the note over Eager’s shoulder.

“I should very much like to go through those doors,” I say quietly to Rey in Elven, motioning with a nod the locked big door that Flycatcher had been guarding.

“Do you not think we should resolve this first?” she replies.

“I think better when I am either in meditation or in motion. Standing here under uncountable leagues of rock is making me twitchy.”

The final part of the tomb.

Our seal should protect the individual carrying it, but perhaps not the whole party. We simply do not know.

In an effort to bypass the rich-with-traps way beyond, Eager casts fly on all of us. It is marvelous. Oh my, I see why Verdre aspires to be a bird. What freedom! Can I fire from up here? What would it look like in a real place, a forest canopy spread out in front of, green pool for me to dive into and see its wonders, then swoop back up. I love it!

We descend another four hundred feet, however, into more cold, more stone. This is not what I had in mind. It leaves me shivering and I take Rey’s cool hand again.

We are in an immense chamber, the floor of which is covered with statues. Two tremendous black doors part as Treig speaks the three words of the seal. Beyond, supported by seven stone columns, is similar space. It leads to a platform in front of a second set of enormous doors. Treig once again leads us through. It is so dark here: my Mistress’ light seems a wan and pale thing like her bearer. So much weight! Here we will die, unknown and anonymous, skeletons turning to dust in the crushing black.

I must have murmured that, because Rey pulls close, grins and whispers into my ear in a cheerful voice I recognize is an imitation of my own, “No we won’t!” The sly mockery works, and as we float to a white marble sarcophagus beyond the doors, I feel the colossal mantle lighten.

Splashed across the walls here is the sequel to the story from the central wind area early on where we tangled with the air elemental blade blender and found our original pair of artifacts at the top of the column. Monsters here are trampled beneath the heels of a spirit rising out of the stone box in front of us.

“Present yourself,” says a voice. It spoke in Infernal but Treig translated. “Speak the words of Icosial and enter within. Then prove your worth.”

A ridiculously horrible, writhing fiend appears: a monster that looks like it was made of the eyes of all the other monsters in the world. Jodan names it an oculous demon. And warns we cannot fight it. It responds Treig’s request to parlay.

“What will you give up?” says the demon, motioning to the sarcophagus that contains twin swords, a ring, and a large piece of a rod.

Treig thinks. He … the human expression is … hems and haws. He unties a scarf and stares at it as if was soul of his daughter. This goes on for an unexpectedly long time until, with a shaking hand, he places it into the stone box. He is radiating pain. He takes the rod part out in exchange and all but tosses it at Rey, then walks away to a corner of the room and just sits down into the floor.

Jodan in the meantime examines the rod part still in Rey’s hands. He nods. “Yes, this could be it. This is it. The Rod of Seven Parts. We have a big piece here, perhaps the largest!” He looks into the box and something occurs to him. “Huh. I wonder,” he murmurs. Turning to us, he adds, “I need everyone out of this room. I want to try something. It may not work, though even attempting it could visit terrible consequences on you, or me, even on this demon here.”

Rey, Egan and Treig edge out of the room. I remain behind.

“I am warning you,” Jodan continues. “This could easily be the moment of your eternal damnation.”

“My people do not fear your master’s impotent wrath,” is my reply. Devils are bothersome but they have never caused us anything more than irritation.

He says something unkind in Abyssal, a language perfectly architected for that, kneels and then, with a stream of nasty-sounding sounds, offers the sword. I see now it is the same one in my vision: a red crack in reality. He drops it into the box.

“Is this accepted?” he asks. The demon … snorts. Just like Verdre when she is a puma and sees something that makes her laugh! Coming from this twisted Abyssal wreck.

The blade returns itself to its sheath. Jodan grunts. “I really wished that had worked.”

Meanwhile, outside the room, Treig and Rey have noticed that the artifacts in her pack – our circlet and void catcher – are glowing silver.

“Hmm. Well. I may as well get something for my…” says Treig but then he halts. “For that.” He retrieves the glowing circlet and places it on his head, takes several deep breaths, and nods.

Jodan and I rejoin them.

“Do you see what is happening here?” shouts the former now, unnecessarily, I thought. “We are pawns of destiny! We haven’t simply stumbled onto an ancient artifact of war; we have been led to it.”

“You feel my Mistress has lead me here?” I ask him.

“Fate, the stars, your goddess: this isn’t an accident. We cannot give the rod up as if we had other lives to return to. We are here to act.”

“You may be right,” I say. “But if we are shriv i’Hanin’e, Chosen, we must be certain of what we are doing. I for one am having trouble believing my Mistress has dropped the fate of the Fade into my hands with such different companions and divergent interests to help me. If I was meant to save the world, I am sure I would come with my own people, or I would have met companions who actually cared about any of this,” I nod to Treig; “did not serve a dragon,” Rey; “did not serve whomever would promise him his next bag of magical tricks,” Egan; “and who did not want to run off with legendary artifacts on a fool’s errand to hand them over to the Lord of Hell, which is what you will be doing if you seek to best that entity. He is not a person, Jodan: you do not kill, trap or even inconvenience that deity without divine intervention. I should think that would be obvious to you. No, we must have guidance.”

“Tenser, then,” says Treig. “The archmage who belongs to the Circle of Eight.”

“Circle of eight humans,” I return. “I agree they are knowledgeable, but your species is ambitious above all else: it is what drives you.”

“Perhaps, but beings of such power and wisdom will view these artifacts in a different light than we would,” Treig continues.

“I do not want to give everything we have found to a band of powerful humans who answer to no one,” I reply.

“We could give only the Rod to him,” Rey says. “And keep or hide the other pieces.”

“I think that is a good idea,” I say. Something suddenly occurs to me. I don’t know how wise it is, but the words are already out of my mouth before I could stop them. “The tome should not leave the Cairn. What if we give it to Seraph while we pursue wherever the Rod will take us?”

The circlet and black bracers of defense go to Treig. I trust the man who does not care about – or even particularly want – them. Also, he alone gave something up for us at that box in there, something that took much from him. I do not know what that scarf’s significance was, but I recognize loss when I see it.

Rey will hold the Rod part and the Talisman of the Sphere.

We stop by Seraph and tuck the tome under her. I don’t think she noticed, though she mumbled something in her sleep just as we were leaving.

When we surface, the araqu’a are suddenly very interested in Treig, enough to fetch their captain. They start squawking about him, evidently surprised about something. I wish I knew what. I think Treig also wishes he knew what. Perhaps they can sense the artifacts we now bear. Perhaps Treig is their secret king. I would be only mildly surprised because, as I have been saying for what feels like months now, it is still

the same

crazy

unending

day.

I wonder if we are trapped in it?

And I still have not had dinner.

Journal of Etona - 23

Jodan says there is a man, someone from Treig’s past evidently, waiting for him not far from the mouth of the Cairn. We go to see him, Treig fingering a dagger and looking grim.

All I remember is an all-too-human smile of triumph and malice, for he was an illusionist who somehow got into my head as soon as we arrived, and....

... and I am my aunt, and Mistress Moon is lying on the ground like some grand cake, and kobolds are chewing on Her, how dare they?? I am Verdre as black and green puma now and attack them savagely. I revel at the blood I spill, sharp claws slashing, coiled strength in my legs to pounce, and one after another they burst into dead meat, these helpless mice, so much more satisfying than using a bow or mere trap. How sad my people are who cannot know the scent, the taste, the touch, the primal joy of ripping the life out!

I am not Verdre, I realize, though it doesn’t matter in my wild state. I am someone else. A mad relative I used to know.

I am restrained. Crazed. I roar, I bellow, it is Etona screaming tight in Rey’s grip who was not shouting “Skaen, Take her! Take her for yourself!!” at all but rather, “Etona, shh, calm down, shh,” in her normal, calm voice.

It is some time before I can stop shivering in her arms.

I have rent my armor, removed as much as a frenzied madwoman could. My fingers bled with the effort. And I am exhausted, barely aware that there was an outside force, a man who did this to me. Two men. No, just one. The other is from memory.

I fall off whatever unstable, bony thing I seem to be on. Oh, it is Eager. Rey and I are sitting on him. He is covering his head, shielding himself from ... from me.

As I rise, I finally see that she is bleeding from numerous scratches on her hands and face. I point to myself, shake my head, not me, right? But she nods ruefully.

“Oh Rey. Oh Rey, I am so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

She smooths back my hair and says, “Your tribe must be a force of nature if their littlest member – that is what you keep telling me – could do that to me. I almost couldn’t manage you at all.”

I regard myself. Bruises, nothing more. I hold her tight. “Thank you for not breaking me.”

“I don’t think I could.”

Deep breath.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Gone,” Treig answers without looking over.

“What is his name?”

“Darius Argosson. Yes, I understand that look in your eyes: I want to find him again as well.”

“I think,” Eager states uneasily against the silence, “I think we need to take our story and these artifacts to Magepoint.”

“The home of the Archmage Tenser?” says Jodan.

“Aye, that’s the woon.”

“He may have some insight into what to do with the Rod fragment,” adds Treig.

“I mean no offense, gentlemen,” I state, “but I am uneasy about giving an item of such power to a human.”

“I am not human,” says Treig with a smile.

That will be an interesting conversation for later.

“You have our next moves, I see. But what is the last one?” Jodan asks.

“I have the last move as well,” Treig replies.

“What is it?”

“That stays in my head.”

Intriguing. In-Treig-ing. Oh! I suddenly understand the name, I think. Not a human, he says. And also not from this world, he has intimated. Perhaps Treig is a title and not a name?
Moves. Chess moves. I try to piece together scattered Dragon Chess games I played with Shag, connect them with my vision from inside the Cairn. Nothing comes.

“So,” I continue, “we should walk into the home of one of the most powerful human mages with a part of a legendary artifact and ask him what we should do with it?” I ask. “I just want to be clear.”

“Yes,” Eager agrees with a smile as if I was finally getting the lesson he has been trying in vain to teach me. “Aye, that’s exactly what we should do!”

“You already agreed to this, Etona,” chides Treig.

“What do we know about this Tenser? Aside from having his name on a handy utility spell?” I ask.

This prompts almost an hour of Egan and Treig relating different parts of the man’s storied life. It is all entertaining but I am not convinced. However, my Mistress bids me to be the arrow that lights the way and not some general calling troops to battle. With Rey genuinely not seeming to care one way or the other, and Jodan strangely silent after his initial misgivings, I accede.

We ask Seraph’s guardians for their aid in transporting us to Mageland, or whatever it was called, in the morning. I was expecting some method of flight or at least a map. Instead we were to be teleported. It is something like using a portal but you create the portal yourself and it lasts but a moment. In explaining the process, both Treig and Jodan try to tell me that my body will pass through another plane of existence to re-emerge at Tenser’s place. It is nigh-instantaneous. And safe ... ish.

The look on Rey’s face must have matched my own, but new experiences should not be batted away lightly, and these men have lived this long, so let us try it, I say. It may be a tea of a delightful flavor.

***

It is not a tea of any flavor unless drinking tea is like blindly falling through an icy tunnel lined with icicle shards. But by the time I recover my senses enough to be alarmed, we are already there, at Tenser’s place, in a sparking golden circle that is just fading.

A permanently unsuprised gnome is watching us from a booth nearby waiting for us to put ourselves together. He wears an expression of watching two bugs crawl along a wall in opposite directions and silently betting which one would disappear from view first. Above his head is a sign, in Elven, that reads, Thy questions received here.

Treig steps forward and tries to inject some urgency into the gnome’s day. “It is imperative that we meet with Archmage Tenser at his earliest convenience. We have with us powerful artifacts that he will wish to inspect immediately.”

“Name,” the gnome replies.

“This is Rey,” Treig says for some reason. “The Dragonspeaker.”

It is plain the gnome has no idea who she, or indeed any of us, are. “Whom does she serve?”

“Seraph.”

“Is this a dragon?” Treig nods, a little dejected I think. Jodan looks about ready to try his hand, perhaps introducing himself, but the gnome goes on:

“Lord Tenser entertains a number of powerful guests. At the moment he is indisposed. Please make yourself at home in the All-Seeing Eye, our local inn. There you will be contacted by a woman named Celeste.”

“What does she look like?”

The gnome conjures an image of the woman and we are shooed out just as the circle is coming to life again, presumably bringing in another group.

We find Celeste readily enough at the inn waiting with that other human wizard we dealt with in Greyhawk, Elgios. Another working for Tenser, Cymria, invites us to stay in the castle and await the archmage’s return. When when we demur, she offers to Rey and myself a forest growing in the courtyard. A stand of ancient redwoods: they have much to tell, if you have the time. I will meditate there.

Some hours later, we are sent word to meet Tenser at his inner sanctum. It is a large, ornate, heavily-decorated chamber that would be worth exploring for a day in its own right.

“Look at this!” Eager cries, pointing to a Dragonchess board. As he happily talks about a game he or Allustan was playing here somehow but also remotely somewhere else, I examine the board.

It is arrayed about fifteen moves in, I think. One side is clearly winning, but I don’t have enough knowledge of the game to guess any more. Treig steps up, glances at the board and moves a piece. It seems like a good move, not one I noticed. He walks away without comment.

Tenser arrives.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” he says, “but I heard you were looking for me. What can I do for you?”

Humble words from a powerful personage: just like the Fey Court. I am on my guard listening for Court words of power inaudible to any who are not prepared. Rey and Egan are waiting for me to speak, but an archmage who might know of the Bindings renders me unwilling to step forward.

Fortunately, Treig does so instead providing a detailed report of everything he had witnessed in Greyhawk and Diamond Lake. At his story’s conclusion, Rey pulls out the Rod fragment and thunks it onto a nearby desk.

The wizard’s mouth drops open.

“Then the Age of Worms is upon us,” he whispers. “Balakard was not mad after all.”

“It is a dangerous artifact, Lord Tenser,” Treig says.

“Indeed, Treig. Do you know precisely what this is? It is the keystone piece of the Rod of Seven Parts.

All other parts of the Rod are attracted to this one. This fact alone makes it the most powerful.”

“We have brought it to you for safekeeping.”

“For the moment,” Jodan adds quietly and I nod in agreement. Tenser regards us, taking in my bow marking me a priest of Sehanine; Rey at whom he squints and then raises an eyebrow; Eager, looking at him eagerly; and finally Jodan on whom his gaze lingers thoughtfully.

He returns to Treig.

“This is not the only reason you are here, though, is it?” the wizard continues. “You are here because there are no coincidences.”

“Sir?” Treig prompts.

“Over the last few years, prophecies foretold over millennia past have come to be. Kyuss’ legacy endures.” He walks to an oval table of granite that seems to have been made useless by the presence of an obsidian lip all the way around it, two handspans high and curving in towards the center. He gestures.

A map of the world appears. It focuses on where we are now and then the scene speeds to a jungle far to the south.

“Kyuss was an inhabitant of the Amedio Jungle. There he built a following of worshipers who were sacrificed for his ascension to godhood. The grim edifice of his unholy transformation,” he gestures and the scene zooms in to show a temple with a large, unusual shape on its roof, “is known as the Spire of Long Shadows. It remains there to this day. A colleague of mine, Balakard, went to explore them some time ago. He returned with his research but has since gone missing since he journeyed north.”

“How does any of this help us destroy Dragotha?” Rey interjected.

“I am not entirely sure,” Tenser replied. “However, if this Dragotha is an agent of Kyuss, then answers may be there that Balakard did not uncover, being on his own and unable to field the resources a party of seasoned adventurers like you can.”

“With all due respect, Lord Tenser,” says Treig, “our group is not comprised of heroes. Some of us are very far from it. This expedition sounds extremely dangerous with a possibility of yielding very little actionable information. Every instinct I have tells me that our going there is not an intelligent decision. To be frank, I am not even sure why I am here now.”

“And yet here you are,” Tenser says with a smile, “lost and in search of something greater than yourself. You have been wandering, trying to hide from it, but there is no escaping it. You seek that prime motivator: purpose. It is knocking at your door right now. Will you answer? Many lives will depend on your choices.”

Treig lights another of his peculiar cigars. “I don’t speak for everyone.”

“No,” I say aloud but soften the word with a smile. “You do not.”

He continues. “We will have to discuss this before we can give you an answer. But I can say this: I do not work for free.”

“Well, I never said you were stupid,” Tenser replies with a grin. “What will you need?”

“Information,” I say.

“And magic,” adds Treig. “Lots of magic.”

***

One of the things we have been carrying is a transfer stone, and it is unusually powerful, says Tenser as we discuss the artifacts. All of the souls the doppleganger imprisoned there – three of them – are still inside.

One of them is Phreet.

I take the stone to a private chamber and talk to her, meditate with her, share my thoughts with her though Tenser said she would probably not be able to hear me or even understand that I was nearby. Nevertheless, I readied her as best I could for her release to wherever lost little human souls go when they lose their fragile tether to this world.

Tenser kept the stone in exchange for freeing these souls, for freeing me’fr-laya anu, my little sister of my heart.

“Thank you Egan. Thank you Rey.” For they had allowed this apparently powerful and valuable stone to be traded for its contents’ freedom. I knew Rey would support this but was unsure of Egan. He was sad but had no objections.

During this, much discussion had been happening between the rest of the party and Tenser. I relied upon Rey to speak for me, though I did ask for one item.

“We will go and explore these ruins for you,” Treig is saying to Tenser once I had rejoined everyone.

“But with stipulations. I assume you want your own men with us?”

“Yes, I will send a war-forged with you.”

“A what?” Rey asks.

“It is like a golem,” Egan says, “but with intelligence.”

My own experience with a war-forged years ago left me welcoming the idea. He had been a true friend, a leader even though he wore no flesh.

“I very much want to speak to him,” I say.

***

We take full advantage of Tenser’s open vaults: the archmage seems to genuinely want us to succeed and offers much to that end.

An enchantment allows Rey’s spear to miniaturize and attach to her bracers in addition to bringing out lightning’s explosive characteristic.

Obi will be transported into a war machine. Rey and I talk about this, and she of course spends time making Obi understand, as best as either of them can, what this means to Obi.

“It is reversible?”

“Yes. We have done this many times.”

There seemed to be little objection from Obi who apparently relished the idea of an iron hide and steel claws.

Treig stocks up on radiant grenades, explosive potions in hard but easily-broken shells and bolts with Lesser Restoration cast into them. Of these latter, Rey and once she arrives, Verdre, both ask for in arrow form.

I would value a new pair of waterproof, sturdy boots. These turn out to be lizard skin, extendable to the thigh, very useful in swaps and jungles. Supple, and not stitched, I daresay, by manual means.

Tenser suggests potions allowing us to become Ethereal. We would walk through the place we normally teleported through? It renders us invisible and without solid form.

“We become ghosts?” I ask.

“To others here on Prime, eh, the Prime Material Plane, yes,” Tenser’s quartermaster explains.

Jodan works with one of the priests here to fashion a ring out of which his ancestors’ spirits can issue. Once perfected, they surround him as radiant guardians. As I watch a demonstration of the finished relic, several spirits float by. At least a few resemble Jodan himself.

“That is marvelous,” I say to Verdre. “His own people rising to defend him in his hour of need.”

“Yes,” she replies, “if they do not mind being pulled back from rest to this plane of pain.”

These preparations take time, an entire cycle, but thankfully the men in our party exercise patience.

Tenser finds Verdre and pulled her to me as part of the bargain! Whatever happens, my stride has lengthened with hope and confidence now.

Before she arrived, though, I spend my dorse’feu not bathed with pleasure but rather recalling the fierc’e that Darius had summoned in me, the ‘burning blood’ that some among my people are awash in during dors’e han, the full moon. I have known it before: when I was wandering in the wilderness bereft of friend or people, I relied on it to keep me alive. A low-level but constant hum, it fuels my training regimen, pushing myself until I ache, endlessly exercising and performing katae with a weapon I have not touched in years: a heavy lump of metal to knock the wind out of any who would challenge me: a human-made mace. It is not like the one I will use again soon – soon now! – but this clumsy one’s added weight and crude design builds my strength.

My companions, even Rey, are taken aback by the ferocity they meet in sparring with me during the days around the full moon. I annoy and amuse Treig in equal measure and almost rouse the Hell within Jodan. I do unleash the dragon within Rey. This latter I will describe because it fills me with regret. We were running and engaging and retreating one evening, Her full face overhead. At one point I was able to hide from Rey and, when she took an incautious turn, I slammed into her from concealment knocking her flat on her stomach. She roared up and saw I was already a score of steps away, silvered-eyed – not myself at all, for I do not remember any of this – and I was drawing Angivre!

So she, having also left part of herself behind, struck back.

She leaped from sitting prone all the way to where I was crouching, a blue dragon in flight, and blasted me off of my feet when she landed. I heard familiar laughter among thunder, shock of lightning, and the slash of her spear across my stomach ... all in a single instant before I blacked out.

When I regained consciousness, only a moment later thank the Goddess, I was myself again, and so was Rey. She was beside herself with worry, but when she saw I was all right upon awakening she witched to anger. Explaining and soothing and more explaining about my past and my role in the tribe would not let fade the terrible light in her eyes ... at first. But gradually I brought her friendship back to me.

To this very moment I do not know which upset her more: my silver eyes or her own fury. She said that on drawing Angivre, the Silver had never shone quite like that before, and there had been a terrible shriek of ice cracking as I pulled back. But it had only barely registered in her own ferocious rage.

My Lady engineered this. She wanted to push Rey to her limits to reveal her true power to herself, I hope. I hope that is what this was. So yes, Rey’s fear and anger are well justified: she saw betrayal in me for a moment, or a goddess. Could she view me the same after either?

Later, as she was going to bed, I sat down and gazed at her.

“What?” she demanded.

“I would not have fired.” It is the one thing I hadn’t been able to say before, but I was sure of it now.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes. I do.”

After a few minutes, she said, “All right. I am going to sleep now.”

“I will watch over you.”

“That’s ... not necessary, Etona.”

I just looked back at her, obviously unsettling her, but I was resolute and stayed there most of the night though I took my leave before she awoke the next morning. I believe her human half was, what is that human term, like disturbed but has other little meanings? Oh yes. I believe I creeped her out.

I see I have not yet written why I was training with mace and clumsy human chain mail. In a turn of events I could never ever dreamed of, mine were coming back to me!

When I was Her priest, before I disgraced myself, I wore Her armor, wielded Her weapon of war and channeled Her very spirit through me. I am not what I once was, but I am crawling back, and this dorse’feu urged me to remember, makes my muscles remember to be Her silver warrior again one day.

I have Tenser to thank. He has emerged generous where our offer to retain and study the Rod are concerned. His couriers and magicks have allowed me to speak to my father directly, and this alone is worth my allegiance. It is difficult to be away from him for so long. Through him I was able to ask for the reforging of my armor and mace using the materials I sent from Greyhawk. Tamyl, our leader, agreed and directed all I needed to me before we left for ... wherever it is we are going. She, too, had shared the vision Verdre had. Our people have, after these four years I have been away, once again begun to battle the worms. They are only a few days from the Mirror. She reports that the Bright continues to be poisoned as well. She hopes I will help to end all this.

And, as we said our goodbyes: “Myaeree’Emersanine, Etona Aerq’e windyu.”

Welcome home, Etona Silver-Eyes. In one phrase she acknowledged that I was once again part of our tribe and once more our priestess and speaker for Sehanine.

“Thank you, Tamyl.” It was all I could do to prevent my voice from breaking.

***

After examining the images of the jungle and its mysterious temple, we turned to talk about its inhabitants.

Surrounding the structure is a wall built long ago by a group called the Wardens of the First Watch. Its purpose was to seal in Kyuss and whatever happened to him. This was so long ago that even Tenser does not know very much about them, though the name rings a bell for me. It will come in a vision, I hope, because it is a far-off, very vague feeling.

Something has made its way out of the seal, and whatever it is brings the Age of Worms and its infections to the world.

Around the outside of the wall are tribes of yuan-ti and trolls, neither of whom would be helpful to us – Verdre and I were assured after much back and forth debate – in any way.

We are to be teleported again, not terribly close to the ziggarat. Apparently this is somewhat of an unknown since the temple is so heavily protected by wards that teleportation nearby is difficult.

The structure is some forty feet tall, jutting from the rest of the flat jungle like a misshapen finger pointing accusingly at the sky. It sits, timeless, in that very wild place of no civilizations, though the area may have entrances to the Fae. If so, the Bright’s problems with corruption may be coming from that source.

It was designed to transform Kyuss into a god. Protected by spells neither allowing teleportation into it nor scrying beyond a look at its outer face, and surrounded by those evil tribes, it could hardly be more shrouded in unnatural darkness and dread.

As I look at the Spire of Long Shadows, I recall when I was but a girl. Skaen told me of his friend, Tuaru, a druid living in something called by the humans a desert. Tuaru was himself a human, dark of skin and, according to Skaen, tough as an armored boar. He told of plants there called kactuses or kactusi or something like that: thorny, thick, man-high reservoirs of water that bloomed six days per anoom, or year. He had some drawings of these everlasting plants. I remember them now. What sort of reservoir is this building? From what precious blood does it derive its immortality?

But this malignant thing is in the world, and outside on the surface. It will find itself illuminated by My Lady’s Silver soon enough.

On the last day of the month we meet with Tenser again, ready for our journey. We are all wearing new or improved magical armor and weapons including Verdre’s new Druidscale and my reforged armor and mace. We are ready. I am ready.

Journal of Etona 24

Our full party departing for points unknown consists of:
Verdre and myself
Rey Dragon-Child, with “Robi”, her new Obi-in-war machine
Jodan, Burning King of the Past
Treig, our scowling schemer
Young Egan doing the bidding of his latest masters
And finally, Kaio the Monotone. I had hoped to have interesting conversations with him, but he is more golem than man, nothing like Loring at all.

We teleport to the Spire of Long Shadows landing – if that is the right word – much closer than we had expected. As Verdre and I had insisted, it was now dusk: My Mistress will need to witness these proceedings, and under the moon Verdre and I are more effective hunters. Rey and Treig also thought this was a good idea since among us only Egan cannot see in the dark, and My Mistress’s Twilight should be enough for the boy.

Tenser’s map roughly outlined four quadrants surrounding the wall and Spire within: a section filled with trolls; one with yuan-ti; another with swamp; and the fourth fairly bare. This last is where we appear under Her t’quean, or half-lidded eye. The treeline is gratifyingly heavy. I had already braced myself for heat and humidity again, so I was prepared for this as well.

Rey, Verdre and I scout the area and satisfy ourselves that we have not been seen nor are there eyes about attached to whispering mouths. We examine the mighty wall which seems to pulse, though I cannot decide whether this is a visual or aural effect.

There are symbols carved into it repeating all around its circumference.

“They say, Kyuss entombed forever,” translates Rey. “And the way it’s written,” she begins again to my slight beckoning, “makes me think it’s a chant spoken by several people, each one starting a couple words and then the next person starting before the first one’s ended. It’s these these markings here, they point to this kind of … what?”

It is a lot of words from my Rey, and I am smiling at her with happiness as she relates the details until she stops, looking a little embarrassed. But she is also smiling back, just a little.

Verdre, bless her, sees what is happening and helps. “So you are telling us,” she asks Rey, “that these scratches here are directions for how to speak these words? To say them in this manner you understand?”

Rey nods and we continue on, but for me I’ve just witnessed two bears emerging from their hibernation to a gentle sunny day, or a fresh moonlit evening. For one, the inclination to help someone not a member of the clan; for the other, pushing back against her reticence to speak. It is marvelous to watch. There is hope for them yet.

While we were about that, Treig climbed the wall and threw down a couple ropes. Presently, everyone is on top of the wall.

No protection up here, and Her Bright Profile makes fine silhouettes of us. Everyone must stay low.

A moment later there is a lurch and reality shimmers in front of us: we watch as through a lens hundreds or a thousand years ago come to life in a vision. A jade throne on a dais perches atop one of the ziggurat’s two grand staircases. Behind it are all the trappings of royalty: banners, a decorated facade, bonfires.

On that throne, his silver and black armor bearing skull and scythe imagery, is a man from the Flaan. With a plan. He serves Neral, god of death, and it shows. Around this temple a thriving city reaches far into a cleared jungle beyond the wall. It is disorienting. Thousands are knelt down facing the center, facing their evil king-priest. They are crying out in unison: “Kyuss!”

The image fades.

Alerting the others through Mirror cant, we three soft-paws scout carefully all the way around the wall, scoping both the courtyard and the jungle beyond. The wilderness is quiet, but there are two giant beetles in the interior, patrolling fairly close to the base of the Spire.

We come back to the group with a report. They are, according to Rey who had also been watching them and listening very carefully, insane or possibly under control. They are called eviscerator beetles, and they are wriggling with green worms.

Verdre and I depart again so we can see the interior from different angles, Rey staying back with Robi. Our hope is to time the beetles’ movements such that all of us could, using the ruins between the temple and the wall, scurry into the pyramid without attracting their notice.

“I should like to slay those creatures,” Verdre says a little more loudly than she meant to, for the beetles turn and immediately come our way to investigate. Verdre always does what she likes and so this was maybe more calculation than accident, but these monsters she’s now summoned to us are more terrible than we realize. As they approach, they bring a strange and ghastly sound. It makes me nauseous, drops Rey, who has run over, to both knees and sent Verdre to hissing. The creatures turn tail and return to the temple in what Rey tells us is sounding the alarm.

They bring back some kind of armored, wormy death knight who emerged from the base of the building. I doubt it is coming to parlay so I send the Silver to blow off his leg. It gets back up and hops onto the undead war-beetle, but they do not seem to be fully aware of where my attacks hale from.

That is, until Egan, for some reason, summons a resh-ke storm cloud alerting the entire jungle that we’re here! I shake my head, “Just like Melinde,” I whisper to Rey. “Are there any young humans who are quiet?”

The trio of monsters retreats behind a ruined building though one of the beetles is sticking out enough to continue filling it with Silvered moonlight.

Treig, Kaius, Rey, Jodan and Robi all descend to slowly approach the ruins. The ground, it turns out, is as full of worms slithering around through it as the creatures treading upon it. It is then that Jodan uses his new ring summoning up his ancestors to protect all of them. They manifest as a radiant whirlwind that burns the worms.

To provide me with cover, Verdre coaxes a fog bank out of the air positioning it between us and the yuan-ti somewhere out in the jungle beyond.

Eventually, Angivre’s bolts and Jodan’s deceased relatives put these creatures down. We may now pass into the Spire.

But first, another vision: a red dragon – Dragotha, probably – wings its way to the north with an obelisk from the top of the spire. Something strange and terrible writhes inside it. It is very likely Kyuss. He is gone, left to visit his sickness on the two worlds of the Fade and Bright, and he leaves behind a very literal death trap. There little point our continuing: our quarry has bolted.

The wind is picking up, and there is a heavy scent of moisture in the air.

“Rain in an arc, perhaps a bit sooner,” Verdre confirms.

We regroup courtesy of Jodan’s ancestors purifying the ground with their fury.

“We should investigate the interior,” says Treig.

“Definitely,” agrees Verdre.

“Why?” I say at the same time. “What is to be gained opening this box of ancient corruption?”

“I am here to slay undead, cousin,” says Verdre to me in Elven. She only calls me 'cousin' when she has made up her mind and it isn’t in my favor. “This is why I am along.”

“I thought it was to protect me.”

“Yes, but since you have returned to me, my Etona, I have watched you. You do not need to be under my wing. You have the fierc’e.”

“I still think this is a foolish venture into pain. We do not disturb a bee hive: this is a hornet’s nest, and there will be no honey for us inside.”

No one will listen to me, not even Rey – though she is sympathetic – so we go inside through the west doors.

A mural of a handsome but cruel man, armored, adorns the antechamber. He leads a swelled army forth to battle somewhere. Humans: they do seem to love death in all its myriad forms, ever seeking fresh ones out. Beyond, stone doors would normally seal the inner temple from us but these are open. And why not? Who in their right mind would venture here?

They lead to a huge chamber the width of the main bulk of the pyramid. Pillars everywhere. There are similar stone doors in each of the cardinal compass directions.

In the center….

Oh, the center!

To the eyes, a wide, black-ringed hole. To the nose: the source of the pestilent stench blasting us since we arrived, perhaps every foul odor throughout my entire life. Truly horrible. And something broke through from that realm. It’s probably around here somewhere.

Verdre mhaek’roor, skin-walks, some call it shape-shifts, though neither is quite right. It is a Druid word, not Elven, and it means she has just asked for, gave thanks to, and borrowed snake’s form to scout the room.

There are two sets of stairs. The southern ones lead down where the foul odor emanates. Northern stairs lead up to roof.

On the other side of the northern doorway, she will tell us she faintly hears some sort of chanting but she cannot make out the words.

Verdre straightens suddenly like a hare hearing the snuffle of a wolf. She returns snake’s form in favor of her own and strides to us. Where the rest of us see alarm, I see anger. She is standing inches from Egan now, hand clutching her scimitar in its back sheathe, her yellow slitted eyes staring into his. She has not quite returned all of snake.

“Do not … do that … again.”

Oooh, I forgot to tell him, I think when I realize what he did – the voice in the head. That was a mistake.

Egan’s fractional, speechless nod makes it so. I thank the Goddess this was not Skaen or Zrien or Tesseeki or, well, probably two thirds of my tribe. Verdre is one of the restrained ones. It is why she, too, is one our ambassadors to the other races.

That settled, for all time, Treig, Rey and Verdre return to the north door and listen. Verdre would tell me later that the words were a repeating chant, a plea to some sort of evil god. Treig cracked the door open carefully. He would report back that each of the four walls inside seemed to be glass. Worms writhe behind each one. Old, broken torture equipment is scattered about, room smells like old blood and rust. The being there has pale green skin and armor. They do not disturb him, but Treig left some of the radiant potions (the grenaedez I think; sounds Dwarven) on our side of the door for the being to trip over and break.

He briefly investigates the stairs going down but the entire level below is a sea of writhing worms, a pit of corruption so vast as to have tides. This sounds to me like the work of a god. What will it take to purify it?

The southern door is trapped with a kind of sleep chemical. We pass by this. Finally, the eastern door is the other way into the temple.

“Can we leave now?” I ask.

“Yes,” says Rey, and the others generally agree. We have seen enough.

We all go to the roof, and Rey and I continue climbing until we are atop the Spire. There we are granted another vision: Culuth Mar, this city, at its height. Thousands of citizens gather. They look triumphant. That is, until a ashen wave like the stroke of a scythe sweeps from the arms of the Spire. It flows through them and rips their souls out. I can see it happen: a faint impression of each shrieking and distorted trying to hold on to the body. The very air is a boiling soup, green bubbles forming and bursting slowly, heavily, sickeningly. A single man watches, pleased, but this turns to surprise and then dismay as an obelisk at the top of the Spire – spinning the entire time – floats down to him and swallows him. His stupid expression says it all: in a burst of selfishness he has slain his own people – unforgivable enough – but worse, betrayed them all for a mere lie.

A rumbling in the ground from the west part of the courtyard seemingly banishes the vision. And what we were waiting for comes, the worm of worms, a monster like none we have seen so far. It explodes out of the ground.

“Egan,” Treig orders, “You and Kaius and Robi fly to safety over that wall there, back to where we landed. The rest of you, Ethereal potions. Meet at where we started, where they are flying to.”

He did not need to tell us twice: all of us, even Verdre who was dubious about the liquid, drink it down. Jodan tarries a little: he had a thoughtful look on his face when we faded.

The world is colorless now, or the colors are like gray but so much more if I concentrate. It is fascinating. We speak to other merely by thinking, but it is not intrusive like Egan’s mind-whisper. The world we left is still all around us but as a sketch from one of Verdre’s paper books. I can see all of us clearly enough though Egan and the two constructs are like drawings. And Jordan, still Jordan is there. He has stayed behind. I peer at his outline.

Oh, Goddess! He is staying to fight!

“We should not leave him,” says Verdre. But she transparently wants to fight – already fingering Glitter – and obviously dislikes being in this plane. She is using words calculated to affect me.

“Verdre, he is making his own choice,” I reply. Something does occur to me, though. “Treig, he definitely has an Ethereal potion with him, right? And he knows this?”

He nods to both.

It is a count of at least ten now and Jodan is still alive somehow. His armor seems impervious to the blows and teeth of the worm-of-worms. He is fighting this evil thing alone while I flee. Is this truly his choice? Or is Hell compelling him? I do not like mysteries of this sort. If it is Hell calling, then I must give him a chance to refuse, if it is within my power, and that will not be possible if he is in that thing’s belly.

I move back to the base of the cactus sculpture. Verdre’s eyes are on me. She smiles: alone among the others she sees what I am going to do and begins positioning herself to drop onto the horror’s back.

Jodan is using those Infernal chains to swing around the worm. He is surprisingly agile in all that armor.

Mistress! He has mistimed! In one gulp, the worm has swallowed him whole!

I see him in the thing’s throat. I can…yes, I can. I know what to do.

I drop back to our Material plane and call Her Rays of the Moon, focusing, focusing, into a tight beam, and I slice open a long, narrow tear. Jodan spills out, a drenched mess, slime hissing on his burning armor. Verdre drops to us then and lands on top of the worm, quickly calling her Spider Climb, Glitter in her hands.

She and I and Jodan finish killing it, the Hell-knight and his dead relatives having already done tremendous damage while I was dithering. In truth, it was Jodan and his very extended family who dispatched it.

There is no time to consider the consequences of our actions: a pair of worm-infested snake-beings – I would be told later they are called naaga – slither out of the hole in the courtyard the worm erupted from and begin ascending the pyramid. They are hate-filled, fanged, humanoid heads on serpent bodies, simply appalling. At the same time, a six-armed thing appears at the top of the cactus, hissing. This pestilent place is sending its entire hideous cast onto stage.

A voice, all sharp angles and hate, is in my head. It is the six-armed thing. I swivel and draw back the Silver, trying to get a bead on it from my position. It unleashes a swarm of spells from all those arms, and I feel my mace grow heavy and armor visibly lose its shine, though Angivre is unaffected, of course: she was not made by mortal hand. Jodan seems to be similarly fumbling with his gear as well, and Verdre sidesteps a black bolt aimed at her head.

Three spells at once, and it is summoning more! We must down this thing immediately.

And we do.

Well, no we don't. Rey pops out of Ethereal to plunge her spear through the thing’s throat, killing it instantly. The naaga stop and stand immobile: their will must have been bound to the six-armed figure, now a gurgling casualty of Rey’s perfect strike.

Verdre takes the opportunity to set her Moonbeam on the naaga, lighting them up for Egan who has been silently flying back over to us. The snake-things each get off a single lightning bolt but aim them, alas for their aspirations of being worthwhile to their side, at Jodan’s shield and Rey, two targets immune to it. With Her purifying light beating them down, Angivre’s Silver kills one and Egan’s bolts finish the other.

There is yet another foe on the field, however: Rey and Jodan find themselves in the midst of a fireball blossoming from nowhere. It only singes them: Jodan probably cannot be killed by flame and Rey managed to roll out of the blast. And now, finally, Treig pops in from Ethereal and flicks a cigar at a slight imperfection in the air. It is another undead wizard.

Since she appeared back in our Material plane, Rey has been verbally harrying Jodan with a torrent of angry words about not following plans and endangering everyone and what was he going to do after the worm was dead and what was he thinking putting Etona in such peril and so forth – nothing we aren’t all thinking, though I smile at her specifically calling out my name – when she strides to the new interloper, drives her spear through its throat, too, felling it again in a single blow, and marches back to Jodan, all without interrupting her tirade.

He looks at me, a bit wide-eyed.

“Hell hath no fury,” I say.

“You didn’t need to come back,” he replies.

“You have spent too much time among devils, Jodan. You have forgotten loyalty,” I snap back, “We are all bound together now. You are one of us. Remember this the next time you decide to throw your life away.”

Our conversation has given two more heavily-armored worm knights time to slowly approach the stairs. One of them calls forth a purplish black necrotic ball that envelopes Ray and Treig.

“Rey!” I call out but she waves me away. She may well be unstoppable now that she has been revealed to be Dragon Child. I hope I never anger her again.

I will admit that Jodan is unpredictable: he now steps forth and commands one of them to attack the other. I feel my mouth fall open, because that is exactly what it does. We join it in killing its opponent. Now we have use of a worm knight, apparently for the entire day.

With no way to return to the Ethereal plane, we will have to simply walk back to our starting position. I assume we will leave – shall we call it ‘Winston’? – behind to molder at its temple, unless we can talk to it?

That might be interesting.

Gray Fox Journal: The Messenger

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
For want of a horse, the knight was lost.
For want of a knight, the battle was lost.
For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

This proverb always was amusing to me, until today.

Kuluth-Mar’s sentinels were formidable, but ultimately dispatched by our group’s preparation. We moved through the complex systematically, discovering the lost remnants of an ancient cult dedicated to Kyuss’ godly ambitions. The magical field that kept the corruption within the temple contained also seemed to alter time. We continued to perceive visions of an age long past, where Kyuss had sacrificed his people to gain immortality. Thankfully whatever ritual he had performed also trapped his essence in an obsidian monolith. He would have remained in this place for all time had a red dragon not stolen it. That must have been Dragotha, the wyrm Rey was after.

Underneath the ziggurat, there was a lake of writing green worms. It must have been the source of this world’s infestation, if not a gateway to another realm of horrors. None of us were interested in exploring much more of the temple, except for Jordan. This place had triggered something darker than usual within him. He was obsessed with “cleansing it.” As if he could. It is no wonder devils fund such easy purchase in the souls of men. Our arrogance is limitless.

We were having a spirited debate on the roof of the complex, when we heard a rumble shake the earth. That was more than enough for me to initiate our exit strategy.

“Drink your potions. We are leaving,” I commanded.

I watched as everyone quaffed their magical draughts and disappeared into the Ethereal plane. Egan weaved his newfound powers on Obi, levitating the mechanical beast across the wall with Kio. We had drilled this plan many times and had all agreed to rendezvous back at the extraction site. At least that is what I thought. Jordan didn’t drink his potion. He was just standing there as a giant translucent worm burst through the ground, screaming at it in defiance.

“What is he doing,” Etona asked.

“He intends to engage it alone,” Verdre answered.

Both elves didn’t wait long to phase back into the Prime Material plane. Though Jordan was holding his own and using his divine powers to burn the creature with his radiant powers, he was losing ground. I could see where this was going and so could they. Rey looked at me with alarm as she watched Egan fly back into the fray to assist as well.

“We have to help them,” she shouted.

Don’t do it. You can’t save him. Remember.

“Wait Rey. Wait for our moment,” I responded.

As I suspected, once the giant worm was defeated more of its allies joined the fray. Two of these adversaries were formidable magic-wielders. One was a six-armed lich who was disabling all of our enchantments simultaneously from his perch on the tower and another was an invisible invoker who was hurling balls of flame from the sky. I indicated that Rey go after the lich, while I tried to triangulate the invisible wizard’s position. Rey nodded and phase back from the Ethereal plane adjacent to her target. Her magical spear tore through its magical defenses, driving the blade into its dumbfounded face. Lightning arced through the metal, causing its body to seize violently before falling to the ground. Its body made a sickening sound as it hit the stone.

In the meantime, I had located the sorcerer’s location and was moving towards him when I noticed Rey had floated down from the tower to admonish Jordan about this behavior. I was just beginning to phase back to the Material plane when a fireball exploded around the pair. That was my moment. I sent a golden cigar hurtling towards the invisible invoker and watched it explode in a shower of golden flecks. The humanoid was well outlined for Rey now. She looked over at her aggressor and took a running start before hurling her spear. It crackled as it flew through the air, impaling the creature and sending him falling to the ground below.

I am glad she is on our side.

With our enemies defeated, the arguments continued. We were all upset with Jordan’s reckless behavior; Rey most of all. While I agreed with her, I would have prefered to have the disagreement as far away from this place as possible. Though she was right. Jordan knew that his actions would provoke us into coming to his aid, despite his insistence of wanting us to leave. I wonder if he will ever discover for himself that he used his own friends to achieve a short-sighted plan for revenge. Interesting rationalization from a man who has been constantly asking us if we were “a team.” His devilish tormentors had done their work on him. He doesn’t know who he is or what he stands for anymore. Maybe Asmodeus had won after all.

I didn’t think that things could get any stranger. That’s when a giant mechanized chicken stepped over the wall. Inside were two women: Baba Yaga, the infamous witch, and Natasha, Jordan’s betrothed. How this could be was beyond my comprehension. Jordan was equally overwhelmed by the sight of Natasha and the two of them had a long, private conversation. Etona was fascinated by Baba Yaga. None of us were surprised by this. I waited patiently for the group to decide that it was best to return to Tenser’s fortress. Jordan decided that he wanted to stay and purify the temple. No one stopped him; we were all too tired.

I was doing my best to herd the group over the wall when Fate threw further complications in my plans. A dozen shimmering portals appeared along the top of the wall in a perfect semi-circle. Another opened at the base, near Jordan. From within emerged the form of Darius, a smirk plastered across his face.

“Leaving so soon, Fox? But I have a gift for you!”

His maniacal laughter triggered something within me that stripped my mind of rational thoughts. I was intent on jumping down from the wall and ending his life when I saw twelve of my old companions fall from the portals along the wall onto the corrupted earth below. They were all bound and gagged, wholly unprepared for the horrors that awaited them below.

Not again!

I acted without thought, leaping from the safety of the wall and speeding towards their helpless forms. Those that were conscious, I freed from their bondage and those that were not, I lifted up from the earth and rested them against the wall. It stood to reason that the magic that kept the corruption within this place might also repel the worms from anyone contacting the barrier. It was a race against time to get to my men before the worms crawled into their flesh and turned them into mindless servants of Kyuss. So focused I was on my task, that I did not even realize that my companions had begun to engage Darius. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jordan flailing against an impenetrable barrier surrounding Mindbender. Egan was equally helpless in his magical assault, as the barrier seemed to protect him from both physical and magical attacks. That wasn’t the worst part. Darius was beginning to crack the wall. Whatever magic that had been cast so long ago was screaming out in terror. Begging us to all to stop him before he succeeded in his task. It was futile. Verdre summoned her Moonbeam, but its power harmlessly splashed around the field that Darius had erected. Etona was in deep concentration, Angivre in her hands. I could see was locked in a magical struggle with Darius, but I knew that his will was stronger. Someone had to get to him and disrupt his enchantments or many people were going to die.

Where is Rey?

The Dragonspeaker appeared beside Darius wreathed in lightning, electricity lanced through the man as if he was in the midst of a thunderstorm. He didn’t even have time to cry out before she drove her spear into his abdomen and twisted violently. I could tell he was hurt. I’d seen that look before.

He must have momentarily lost his concentration, because Verdre’s beam of light crashed down atop of him, bubbling his skin with the power of Sehanine.

“Magical barrier disabled. Begin countermeasures,” Kio intoned.

The mechanical man extended his hand and motioned to his eyes. Rey closed hers just in time to avoid a burst of white light exploding within the wall of force. Darius screamed out in agony before summoning a silver blade from his palm.

“I know you are in here Rey,” he said sadistically as he slashed outward. The blade cut through her armor like a hot knife through butter. Rey dropped to one knee.

Jordan saw what I saw and began desperately hurling his spiked chains against the magical wall of force. Nothing, save for magic, could get through. We would have to watch as Darius killed our friend and would be unable to do anything.

She didn’t sign up for this. It’s not her fault. Do something old man!

“Dane,” I said as I passed him a dagger. “Free and extract the other men from the complex. Leave no one behind.”

“Yes sir. What are you going to do,” he asked.

“I’m going to give you a distraction.”

I was running. Faster than I thought possible. Obstacles melted away before me as I trained my eye on Darius. I could see the shimmering barrier and so I touched my bandana and thought of Jade.

If you are out there Boss, I need your help. I can’t do this without you.

I struck the wall of force with my outstretched hand but I did not stop, merely slowed down. I pressed onward, forcing myself through and found myself on the other side amidst Rey.

“Fox is that you,” Darius asked mockingly.

“It’s over,” I said as I beckoned Rey towards me.

He sneered. “I suppose you are right. Until next time old friend.”

Reaching for his necklace, Darius touched one of his many talismans. A portal appeared at his feet and he vanished. And like that, he was gone once again.

I knew that Rey was in critical condition from how she leaned on me for support. Jordan rushed to her aid and exhausted his own strength healing her with the remainder of his power. I gathered the rest of my men and moved everyone outside the walls as efficiently as I could. Kio and Egan worked together to summon a teleportation circle. I made sure that everyone was through before I entered. Jordan waited until we were alone to address me.

“What now Treig?”

“We get some rest Jordan,” I responded.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“It’s been a long day. Why don’t we talk about it after we have had some sleep,” I said.

“After you Treig,” he motioned with his hand.

I smiled. “No Jordan, this time I insist.”
________________________________

The sickening sensation of falling was shorter lived this time and we found ourselves outside Magepoint again, near our familiar gnomish escort. For the first time he seemed startled and even flustered.

“I-I-I will alert Lord Tenser right away!”

Now he recognizes us.

We were led back to the fortress unmolested. I was informed, en route, that my inquiry to Greyhawk had been received and that they wished me to formally apply for the position of Master of Games. In addition, an opening on the City Council had recently become available and some of the council members believed that I might be able to fill that station. Both opportunities were intriguing to me, but my plans would have to wait until after I had formally debriefed with Tenser and got some rest.

At the drawbridge we were intercepted by a blind white draconian named Seeli. She insisted on speaking to Rey, having been sent by Tiamat. Rey was entirely too tired to spend any time with this stranger and so she set up a future date to meet by the docks. I thought that was the end of it but as Jordan passed the priestess, she spoke to him in Infernal.

“The dragon will lead you to the heart of your enemy. Follow the Dragon.”