JollyDoc's Age of Worms (Updated 11/30, Epilogue!)
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Hey, no problem, we'll just read up on your Red Hand exploits in Joachim's story hour!
JollyDoc
Explorer
NEXUS OF EVIL
“It’s in that direction,” Grubber said, pointing off into the gloom towards the eastern side of the cemetery, back in the direction from which they had come. The goliath had asked for Grumbar’s guidance in finding the hidden source of the malevolent vortex which surrounded the Spire of Long Shadows.
“That figures,” Faust grumbled. “We probably walked right past it in this murk.” The group retraced their steps, the cries of the dead becoming more distant. Though they all kept looking about them, they saw no signs of other broodfiends in the vicinity. Soon, they came upon a walkway of stepstones branching from the main path and leading down a short, muddy path to a grove of sour apple trees. Within the copse stood a tomb, not much different from the hundreds of others in the boneyard. The doors were mortared shut, and would not budge, even with the strongest effort from the goliath brothers. Waving everyone aside, Havok hefted the staff he had stolen from Dragotha and spoke a guttural word. In an eye-blink, the doors simple vanished, leaving a perfect, round hole where they had been. The interior of the tomb consisted of a diamond-shaped antechamber and two, symmetrical square crypts. Four desiccated corpses, dressed in the tattered remains of fine clothes, lay on stone slabs in both crypts, beyond wrought iron gates. Both the gates, and the walls themselves bore intricate carvings and flourishes of a human skull wreathed in fire. Havok’s armor whispered to him that no spark of undeath existed within the bodies.
“Myrkulites,” Mak spat, as he examined the carved symbols. “Though the Kelemvor priests have tried to cover it up,” he pointed to drawings of a set of scales set beneath each carving, obviously more recently placed. There seemed to be no exit from the tomb, yet Grubber felt pulled towards the back wall. Once more Havok summoned the power of his staff, opening another hole, and revealing a narrow, rough hewn passage beyond.
The tunnel led to a darkened, octagonal chamber. A central column, carved to resemble a gnarled tree trunk, supported the low ceiling. On the north side of the room, a broad stairwell descended deeper into the earth. Above the stair, the vaulted ceiling was decorated with stone latticework. A series of brass flat-reliefs on the side walls depicted the leering countenances of fanged dragons in threatening poses. Single-file, the group started down the stairs, with Hawk and Mak in the lead. Grubber, Grim and Faust followed, leaving Storm and Havok to bring up the rear. The warlock and sorceress had not yet moved onto the stair, when abruptly, the entire well was filled with scorching flames, crackling lightning, steaming acid spray, and chilling blasts of cold. Grubber and Faust, forewarned by the precognitive magic Havok had woven about the party in case of impending danger, managed to dive and roll just before the trap was sprung. Grubber ended up back in the antechamber, while Faust’s momentum carried him all the way to the bottom of the stairs, where he fetched up against a heavy wooden door. Hawk, Mak and Grim were not so lucky. Though many of their defensive wardings protected them from some of the damaging elements, the assault showed no sign of letting up, and they couldn’t withstand that kind of punishment for long. Hawk darted towards the door, and jerked on the handle. It didn’t budge. Faust jumped quickly to his feet, placing a hand on the shoulders of Mak and Hawk, who were nearest to him. His intent was to dimensionally hop the three of them just to the other side of the portal, but when the paladin and the goliath turned around, only the psion had vanished.
Havok sensed Faust’s departure through the Mindlink, and knew that the others were still trapped in the deadly conflagration. Closing his eyes to prepare himself for the pain, the warlock thrust his hand into the raging energies. He felt agonizing pain, which was a combination of burning and freezing, but still he maintained his concentration. Summoning his dark powers, he began absorbing the magics of the trap into himself. In short order, there was silence. Opening his eyes again, he saw that the stairwell was clear, and his friends safe…all except Faust.
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Faust found himself in spacious underground hall. The humid, heavy air reeked of mold and death. The chamber itself was a seventy-foot wide octagonal platform under a fifty-foot high domed ceiling. Thousands of blue and green semi-precious stones were embedded in the tiled, stone floor to form a thirty-foot wide magical circle of arcane ciphers in the platform’s center, and it was within this circle that the psion stood. Two diametrically opposed arcades led to grandiose chambers to the northeast and southwest. The one to the northeast was spangled by strange, green bonfires, and seemed like some sort of domed warehouse, containing a colossal crane-like machine. Four massive, mechanical arms extended from niches in the walls at the cardinal points to the center, where they connected to a thirty-foot wide platform with a chain and pulley system. In the space above the central platform floated a whirling vortex of black wind shot through with red lightning.
The southwest chamber was lit by reddish glass lamps, and looked like a bizarre workshop. Models of building components and body parts carved in white marble and greenish granite lay scattered about. Among the heaps of discarded and raw materials near the middle of the hall, stood a large sculpture of a humanoid figure. A huge bookshelf of stone stood against the far, southwest wall, while several, large workbenches with alchemical equipment and sculptors tools sat at the foot of the pillars that supported the vaulted ceiling. Standing at these benches were eight, robed, skeletal figures. As one, they raised their grinning faces and flickering eyes to stare at Faust.
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‘Where are you?’ Havok shouted through his mental link to Faust.
‘Ummm…in a very bad place,’ Faust responded. “When I tried to open a Dimension Door, I ended up here, and I’m not alone. Don’t worry though, they’re just liches. Eight of them.’
‘Hang on,’ the warlock responded. “Mak!” he called to the others. “I’m going to try and get to Faust! Get through that door!” The goliath nodded, then turned to the door and began hammering at it with his sword. When he happened to glance over his shoulder, Havok was gone.
At first, Havok was still present, only he was moving so fast via Temporal Acceleration, that his companions could not see him. Then, the warlock attempted his own dimensional travel. Immediately, he felt as he had been seized by a large hand and yanked sideways. After a brief moment of disorientation, he found himself in the room Faust had described, standing next to the immobile psion. Time continued to flow rapidly for Havok, and he began moving towards the group of undead in the southwest room. Abruptly, he was stopped short by some sort of invisible barrier, just at the edge of the mystic circle. Allowing himself to sense the lines of magic that were present, he determined that ring was producing an Anti-life Shell, which prevented any living creature from breaking its plane. Havok reached out his hand, and easily absorbed the dweomer, temporarily disabling the prison. He then stepped onto the platform, and began conjuring. A worm-ridden wall of flame sprang into existence, engulfing three of the liches. When the flow of time resumed an instant later, the undead wizards wailed in agony.
‘Took you long enough,’ Faust smirked, then, seeing the emerald fire, he chuckled. ‘How quaint, but allow me to show you how to make things really burn.’ With that, he unleashed a violent mental blast of cleansing fire. The wave swept through the workroom, and in its wake, nothing remained of the liches save piles of ash.
‘Nice work,’ Havok nodded, ‘but what about them?’ Faust turned around to look in the direction the warlock was pointing. From out of the machine in the northeast chamber, stepped four ghostly apparitions…avolakia.
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The door finally burst asunder under the combined assault of Hawk, Mak and Grim. It had been walled over on its opposite side, which was why it had given them so much trouble. As Grubber and Storm moved up to join them, the group stepped into the room beyond. They found themselves in a vast chamber, the ceiling of which was supported by a square array of green, marble pillars set ten feet apart from each other. The stone floor was covered in a multitude of dragging scores and dents. The area was almost empty, with just a few strange statues against the walls. These sculptures resembled stubby-winged monsters curled into fetal positions, with boneless limbs and oversized, sphincterial mouths…broodfiends. Two closed doors led from the room, on the east and west sides. In the far wall, a wide corridor led away into darkness. Suddenly, from that direction came a dull rumble and explosion.
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The roaring columns of fire created by the avolakia vanished just as quickly as they had appeared. Havok had been singed a bit by the two which struck him, but Faust had dodged nimbly aside, avoiding the flames entirely. At that moment, another Flamestrike appeared, this time enveloping one of the avolakia.
‘Bullseye!’ Mak shouted through the Mindlink. ‘Don’t worry boys! The cavalry’s here!’
‘I feel safer already,’ Faust replied dryly. Meanwhile, Havok quickly erected another wall of eldritch fire, centering it on three of the spectral aberrations. The ghosts passed right through it, apparently unscathed.
Hawk dashed up the angled passage, making for the large room at the far end and the ghosts that he could now see clearly. Suddenly, the sound of his comrades following behind abruptly ceased. When the civilar turned, he saw a stone wall where a moment before there had been none. Just then, twin pillars of fire struck the paladin, but the flames rolled harmlessly over him, thanks a recent acquisition he had purchased on Faust’s advice. The psionically enhanced ‘skin’ clung to him like his own flesh, yet at his mental command it could compress itself into a ball no bigger than the palm of his hand. At that particular moment, however, he liked it just where it was…between him and a very bad sunburn.
‘ I do so love the dead,’ Faust said, smiling. ‘They’re so predictable.’ With that, he once again opened a conduit to the plane of positive energy, sending it arcing through three of the ghosts, destroying them instantaneously. Hawk charged towards the last one, ducking under one of its flailing tentacles, and plunging Quaero into its incorporeal body, the mighty blade’s enchantments piercing it as if it were flesh and blood. With a chilling wail, the specter vanished from view.
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“Do you have it figured out yet?” Havok asked for about the tenth time in ten minutes. Faust had been tinkering with an intricate set of controls at the base of the platform generating the vortex.
“As a matter of fact,” the psion responded, for the first time since Havok had started asking him, “I have. The vortex is actually a pin-point sized portal to the Negative Energy plane. This machine seems to be amplifying and directing the energy directly to the Spire. We basically have two choices: I can deactivate the portal, but there is nothing keeping someone from just reactivating it later, or I can cause it to overload.”
“And what would that do?” Havok asked.
“Basically, it would send everything within about a one-hundred yard radius directly to the Negative Energy plane, and then seal the portal.” Hawk wandered over, listening to Faust’s explanation.
“Do it,” the civilar ordered. Faust nodded.
“I suggest the rest of you vacate the area first. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right behind you. I figure I’ll have about forty or fifty seconds to get clear. More than enough.”
Faust waited until Havok notified him through the Mindlink that he and the others were back on the surface, across the street from the boneyard. He then flipped a series of switches, and heard a high-pitched whine begin from somewhere within the machine. Wasting no time, he ran from the chamber as fast as his feet would carry him. He had just reached the tomb’s exit when he heard a muffled implosion in the distance. Then all was silent again. He turned to look in the direction of the Spire of Long Shadows just in time to see the dark funnel around it wink out of existence. The psion smiled to himself, imagining the Wormgod’s wrath, and realizing that, if they weren’t already there, the League had just jumped to number one on Kyuss’ hit list.
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“We’re going to Mistwall Manor,” Hawk announced once they had regrouped. “I know it sounds to obvious, but if Lashonna does not fear us knowing about her plans and schemes, then she might just be arrogant enough to be at her home.” The others couldn’t argue, and it was either that, or head for the Spire, and none of them wanted to face Kyuss while his chief lieutenant yet lived. They had just started walking up the Street of a Dozen Smiles, when suddenly a nearby building lurched to the staccato sound of bursting timbers. Plumes of dust sprayed into the air around the house’s foundation, and then again the structure shuddered. The roar of the façade crumbling away paled in comparison to the roar of the pair of immense, green worms that burrowed up through the building’s core and now spilled out into the street. Several citizens in the area began scrambling for cover.
Havok’s anger seethed at the sight of the worms. Everywhere he turned, at all times, these wretched spawn of his forbear were there as a constant reminder of the sins of his fathers. The rage seethed to the surface in a torrential outpouring of eldritch energy. The great overworm lurched from the assault, and then again as a second blast struck it, but then it lowered its massive head and seemed to look directly at Havok, as if to say, ‘You are nothing compared to Kyuss. All of your efforts will amount to nothing.’ As if to punctuate this fact, falling rubble and debris crushed four of the fleeing townsfolk right before Havok’s eyes.
The overworm coiled itself to strike, but even as it prepared to do so, it was struck by an overwhelming attack from all sides. From storm came a crackling sphere of electricity mixed with acid. From Grubber, a glowing hammer of righteous force, and a whirling vortex of force-spawned blades. Finally, from Faust, a scorching ball of volcanic fire. The overworm toppled like a felled ironwood, crushing several more buildings in the vicinity.
But there were two worms. Hawk turned towards the second, just as it struck. It’s massive jaws clamped solidly around the civilar’s torso. He felt several ribs crack, and blood spurted from his lips. The worm began lifting him from the ground, but the magic in the ring given him by Malchor allowed him to twist free at the last second. As he rolled free, another devastating barrage of magic washed over the behemoth, courtesy of his allies. The overworm thrashed and raged, hurling debris in all directions. Two more commoners went down beneath masonry and wooden timbers. Hawk leaped to his feet, and charged the worm, Mak right beside him. As the worm struck again, the pair’s blades sank into its head just below its jaw. They dove for safety as the monstrosity crashed to the ground.
The remaining citizens stared dumbfounded at the carnage, and at their dead friends and neighbors. Hollow eyed, they turned and shambled into the surrounding streets, taking their tales of unstoppable, house-eating worms to the rest of the panicked populace of Starmantle.
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Mistwall Manor turned out to be a dead-end. There were no guards, and the house was unlocked and unwarded. It was also completely unoccupied. The vampiric dragon might be arrogant, but she was not stupid. The League would have to search elsewhere. Yet a more immediate problem troubled their minds. Though they had killed the overworms, innocent life had also been lost in the collateral damage. The more tragedies like that occurred, the more hope would be lost by the people. Kyuss had to be stopped, true, but what good would such a victory be if Starmantle was destroyed in the process? At Hawk’s urging, the group made for the temple of Tempus. They had asked Lanthis Chax to shelter those he could there. Hawk wanted to see what more could be done.
When they reached the temple, they were quickly ushered inside by one of the acolytes. Over two-hundred people huddled within the main sanctuary of the church, their wounds and needs being tended by the clergy. Lanthis Chax approached the League members from across the nave.
“The vortex?” He asked. “Was that your doing?”
“Yes,” replied Faust, “but apparently it wasn’t enough. The clouds of green mist still linger over the city, and the minions of Kyuss still run the streets. We’re fighting a losing battle if we try and save every individual person. What have you heard?”
The bald priest shook his head. “Things are not going well. The undead are taking more people by the hour. I estimate we’ve lost at least five-hundred of our populace today alone. Folk are giving in to despair. There is no hope for them.”
Hawk stepped forward and looked the priest directly in the eye. “Your patron glorifies strength and battle. I know there is steel in you and your followers. Tell me, for you know this city and its people better than I, what will give them back their hope?”
“They must be protected,” Lanthis replied, “but at the same time, like in any soldier on a battlefield, heart can be taken by seeing one’s enemy destroyed. The mists seem to be areas where the spawn of Kyuss concentrate most densely. I would seek their first. Then, if you have the power, the Spire itself.”
Hawk nodded, then looked around at the crowded sanctuary. “That we can and will do,” he said, “but in the mean-time, where can others find shelter? You are already well beyond your capacity, and I imagine the other churches have opened their doors as well.”
Lanthis seemed at a loss. “I…do not know. They cannot stay in their homes, and all roads out are blocked by now. There is no place to go.”
“You’re right…” Grubber said distractedly. “Not in the city…but perhaps there is another answer….”
“What do you mean?” Hawk asked urgently.
In answer, Grubber turned to his brother. “Mak, does this god you speak so much about grant you the ability to create extra-dimensional dwellings?”
“Do you speak of the intangible mansions?” Mak asked. Grubber nodded. “Of course,” Mak laughed. “What god wouldn’t? Except maybe one who would not allow his clergy to fly.” Grubber ignored the jibe, turning to Lanthis instead. “Do you know of what I speak?” The priest nodded, but Hawk shook his head.
“I have no idea what you are talking about? Perhaps you can enlighten the rest of us heathens.”
“I’m sorry,” Grubber said, “ I’m getting ahead of myself. With our magic, we can create huge dwellings, mansions if you will, that are located between dimensions. Each of these that we create could comfortably house and feed two-hundred people?”
“How many can you create?” Hawk asked.
“Two,” Grubber answered.
“And I can create two as well,” Mak added.
“Then that’s eight-hundred more souls that can be saved,” Hawk said, “assuming we can convince them to come here.”
“That’s all well and good,” Lanthis said, “but how will we protect them if the undead attack en masse? The mansions will only hold for so long.”
“I have the solution to that as well,” Mak said, smiling.
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The glowing Gate coalesced above the main altar, and from it stepped a being that was familiar to the assembled members of the League. To the others within the temple, it was overwhelmingly awe-inspiring.
“Again you have called me, mortals,” Gabriel said in a voice that was at once beautifully harmonious, yet filled with implied menace.
“And again, we offer the required sacrifice,” Mak said. “The task we ask of you is a small thing to one such as you. Watch over the souls gathered upon this hallowed ground, and ward them from any harm or evil intent. We ask this of you for four days only. If we have not returned by then, then the Age of Worms will be upon this world, and all the hosts of Heaven won’t be able to stop it.”
“It’s in that direction,” Grubber said, pointing off into the gloom towards the eastern side of the cemetery, back in the direction from which they had come. The goliath had asked for Grumbar’s guidance in finding the hidden source of the malevolent vortex which surrounded the Spire of Long Shadows.
“That figures,” Faust grumbled. “We probably walked right past it in this murk.” The group retraced their steps, the cries of the dead becoming more distant. Though they all kept looking about them, they saw no signs of other broodfiends in the vicinity. Soon, they came upon a walkway of stepstones branching from the main path and leading down a short, muddy path to a grove of sour apple trees. Within the copse stood a tomb, not much different from the hundreds of others in the boneyard. The doors were mortared shut, and would not budge, even with the strongest effort from the goliath brothers. Waving everyone aside, Havok hefted the staff he had stolen from Dragotha and spoke a guttural word. In an eye-blink, the doors simple vanished, leaving a perfect, round hole where they had been. The interior of the tomb consisted of a diamond-shaped antechamber and two, symmetrical square crypts. Four desiccated corpses, dressed in the tattered remains of fine clothes, lay on stone slabs in both crypts, beyond wrought iron gates. Both the gates, and the walls themselves bore intricate carvings and flourishes of a human skull wreathed in fire. Havok’s armor whispered to him that no spark of undeath existed within the bodies.
“Myrkulites,” Mak spat, as he examined the carved symbols. “Though the Kelemvor priests have tried to cover it up,” he pointed to drawings of a set of scales set beneath each carving, obviously more recently placed. There seemed to be no exit from the tomb, yet Grubber felt pulled towards the back wall. Once more Havok summoned the power of his staff, opening another hole, and revealing a narrow, rough hewn passage beyond.
The tunnel led to a darkened, octagonal chamber. A central column, carved to resemble a gnarled tree trunk, supported the low ceiling. On the north side of the room, a broad stairwell descended deeper into the earth. Above the stair, the vaulted ceiling was decorated with stone latticework. A series of brass flat-reliefs on the side walls depicted the leering countenances of fanged dragons in threatening poses. Single-file, the group started down the stairs, with Hawk and Mak in the lead. Grubber, Grim and Faust followed, leaving Storm and Havok to bring up the rear. The warlock and sorceress had not yet moved onto the stair, when abruptly, the entire well was filled with scorching flames, crackling lightning, steaming acid spray, and chilling blasts of cold. Grubber and Faust, forewarned by the precognitive magic Havok had woven about the party in case of impending danger, managed to dive and roll just before the trap was sprung. Grubber ended up back in the antechamber, while Faust’s momentum carried him all the way to the bottom of the stairs, where he fetched up against a heavy wooden door. Hawk, Mak and Grim were not so lucky. Though many of their defensive wardings protected them from some of the damaging elements, the assault showed no sign of letting up, and they couldn’t withstand that kind of punishment for long. Hawk darted towards the door, and jerked on the handle. It didn’t budge. Faust jumped quickly to his feet, placing a hand on the shoulders of Mak and Hawk, who were nearest to him. His intent was to dimensionally hop the three of them just to the other side of the portal, but when the paladin and the goliath turned around, only the psion had vanished.
Havok sensed Faust’s departure through the Mindlink, and knew that the others were still trapped in the deadly conflagration. Closing his eyes to prepare himself for the pain, the warlock thrust his hand into the raging energies. He felt agonizing pain, which was a combination of burning and freezing, but still he maintained his concentration. Summoning his dark powers, he began absorbing the magics of the trap into himself. In short order, there was silence. Opening his eyes again, he saw that the stairwell was clear, and his friends safe…all except Faust.
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Faust found himself in spacious underground hall. The humid, heavy air reeked of mold and death. The chamber itself was a seventy-foot wide octagonal platform under a fifty-foot high domed ceiling. Thousands of blue and green semi-precious stones were embedded in the tiled, stone floor to form a thirty-foot wide magical circle of arcane ciphers in the platform’s center, and it was within this circle that the psion stood. Two diametrically opposed arcades led to grandiose chambers to the northeast and southwest. The one to the northeast was spangled by strange, green bonfires, and seemed like some sort of domed warehouse, containing a colossal crane-like machine. Four massive, mechanical arms extended from niches in the walls at the cardinal points to the center, where they connected to a thirty-foot wide platform with a chain and pulley system. In the space above the central platform floated a whirling vortex of black wind shot through with red lightning.
The southwest chamber was lit by reddish glass lamps, and looked like a bizarre workshop. Models of building components and body parts carved in white marble and greenish granite lay scattered about. Among the heaps of discarded and raw materials near the middle of the hall, stood a large sculpture of a humanoid figure. A huge bookshelf of stone stood against the far, southwest wall, while several, large workbenches with alchemical equipment and sculptors tools sat at the foot of the pillars that supported the vaulted ceiling. Standing at these benches were eight, robed, skeletal figures. As one, they raised their grinning faces and flickering eyes to stare at Faust.
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‘Where are you?’ Havok shouted through his mental link to Faust.
‘Ummm…in a very bad place,’ Faust responded. “When I tried to open a Dimension Door, I ended up here, and I’m not alone. Don’t worry though, they’re just liches. Eight of them.’
‘Hang on,’ the warlock responded. “Mak!” he called to the others. “I’m going to try and get to Faust! Get through that door!” The goliath nodded, then turned to the door and began hammering at it with his sword. When he happened to glance over his shoulder, Havok was gone.
At first, Havok was still present, only he was moving so fast via Temporal Acceleration, that his companions could not see him. Then, the warlock attempted his own dimensional travel. Immediately, he felt as he had been seized by a large hand and yanked sideways. After a brief moment of disorientation, he found himself in the room Faust had described, standing next to the immobile psion. Time continued to flow rapidly for Havok, and he began moving towards the group of undead in the southwest room. Abruptly, he was stopped short by some sort of invisible barrier, just at the edge of the mystic circle. Allowing himself to sense the lines of magic that were present, he determined that ring was producing an Anti-life Shell, which prevented any living creature from breaking its plane. Havok reached out his hand, and easily absorbed the dweomer, temporarily disabling the prison. He then stepped onto the platform, and began conjuring. A worm-ridden wall of flame sprang into existence, engulfing three of the liches. When the flow of time resumed an instant later, the undead wizards wailed in agony.
‘Took you long enough,’ Faust smirked, then, seeing the emerald fire, he chuckled. ‘How quaint, but allow me to show you how to make things really burn.’ With that, he unleashed a violent mental blast of cleansing fire. The wave swept through the workroom, and in its wake, nothing remained of the liches save piles of ash.
‘Nice work,’ Havok nodded, ‘but what about them?’ Faust turned around to look in the direction the warlock was pointing. From out of the machine in the northeast chamber, stepped four ghostly apparitions…avolakia.
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The door finally burst asunder under the combined assault of Hawk, Mak and Grim. It had been walled over on its opposite side, which was why it had given them so much trouble. As Grubber and Storm moved up to join them, the group stepped into the room beyond. They found themselves in a vast chamber, the ceiling of which was supported by a square array of green, marble pillars set ten feet apart from each other. The stone floor was covered in a multitude of dragging scores and dents. The area was almost empty, with just a few strange statues against the walls. These sculptures resembled stubby-winged monsters curled into fetal positions, with boneless limbs and oversized, sphincterial mouths…broodfiends. Two closed doors led from the room, on the east and west sides. In the far wall, a wide corridor led away into darkness. Suddenly, from that direction came a dull rumble and explosion.
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The roaring columns of fire created by the avolakia vanished just as quickly as they had appeared. Havok had been singed a bit by the two which struck him, but Faust had dodged nimbly aside, avoiding the flames entirely. At that moment, another Flamestrike appeared, this time enveloping one of the avolakia.
‘Bullseye!’ Mak shouted through the Mindlink. ‘Don’t worry boys! The cavalry’s here!’
‘I feel safer already,’ Faust replied dryly. Meanwhile, Havok quickly erected another wall of eldritch fire, centering it on three of the spectral aberrations. The ghosts passed right through it, apparently unscathed.
Hawk dashed up the angled passage, making for the large room at the far end and the ghosts that he could now see clearly. Suddenly, the sound of his comrades following behind abruptly ceased. When the civilar turned, he saw a stone wall where a moment before there had been none. Just then, twin pillars of fire struck the paladin, but the flames rolled harmlessly over him, thanks a recent acquisition he had purchased on Faust’s advice. The psionically enhanced ‘skin’ clung to him like his own flesh, yet at his mental command it could compress itself into a ball no bigger than the palm of his hand. At that particular moment, however, he liked it just where it was…between him and a very bad sunburn.
‘ I do so love the dead,’ Faust said, smiling. ‘They’re so predictable.’ With that, he once again opened a conduit to the plane of positive energy, sending it arcing through three of the ghosts, destroying them instantaneously. Hawk charged towards the last one, ducking under one of its flailing tentacles, and plunging Quaero into its incorporeal body, the mighty blade’s enchantments piercing it as if it were flesh and blood. With a chilling wail, the specter vanished from view.
_______________________________________________________
“Do you have it figured out yet?” Havok asked for about the tenth time in ten minutes. Faust had been tinkering with an intricate set of controls at the base of the platform generating the vortex.
“As a matter of fact,” the psion responded, for the first time since Havok had started asking him, “I have. The vortex is actually a pin-point sized portal to the Negative Energy plane. This machine seems to be amplifying and directing the energy directly to the Spire. We basically have two choices: I can deactivate the portal, but there is nothing keeping someone from just reactivating it later, or I can cause it to overload.”
“And what would that do?” Havok asked.
“Basically, it would send everything within about a one-hundred yard radius directly to the Negative Energy plane, and then seal the portal.” Hawk wandered over, listening to Faust’s explanation.
“Do it,” the civilar ordered. Faust nodded.
“I suggest the rest of you vacate the area first. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right behind you. I figure I’ll have about forty or fifty seconds to get clear. More than enough.”
Faust waited until Havok notified him through the Mindlink that he and the others were back on the surface, across the street from the boneyard. He then flipped a series of switches, and heard a high-pitched whine begin from somewhere within the machine. Wasting no time, he ran from the chamber as fast as his feet would carry him. He had just reached the tomb’s exit when he heard a muffled implosion in the distance. Then all was silent again. He turned to look in the direction of the Spire of Long Shadows just in time to see the dark funnel around it wink out of existence. The psion smiled to himself, imagining the Wormgod’s wrath, and realizing that, if they weren’t already there, the League had just jumped to number one on Kyuss’ hit list.
_____________________________________________________
“We’re going to Mistwall Manor,” Hawk announced once they had regrouped. “I know it sounds to obvious, but if Lashonna does not fear us knowing about her plans and schemes, then she might just be arrogant enough to be at her home.” The others couldn’t argue, and it was either that, or head for the Spire, and none of them wanted to face Kyuss while his chief lieutenant yet lived. They had just started walking up the Street of a Dozen Smiles, when suddenly a nearby building lurched to the staccato sound of bursting timbers. Plumes of dust sprayed into the air around the house’s foundation, and then again the structure shuddered. The roar of the façade crumbling away paled in comparison to the roar of the pair of immense, green worms that burrowed up through the building’s core and now spilled out into the street. Several citizens in the area began scrambling for cover.
Havok’s anger seethed at the sight of the worms. Everywhere he turned, at all times, these wretched spawn of his forbear were there as a constant reminder of the sins of his fathers. The rage seethed to the surface in a torrential outpouring of eldritch energy. The great overworm lurched from the assault, and then again as a second blast struck it, but then it lowered its massive head and seemed to look directly at Havok, as if to say, ‘You are nothing compared to Kyuss. All of your efforts will amount to nothing.’ As if to punctuate this fact, falling rubble and debris crushed four of the fleeing townsfolk right before Havok’s eyes.
The overworm coiled itself to strike, but even as it prepared to do so, it was struck by an overwhelming attack from all sides. From storm came a crackling sphere of electricity mixed with acid. From Grubber, a glowing hammer of righteous force, and a whirling vortex of force-spawned blades. Finally, from Faust, a scorching ball of volcanic fire. The overworm toppled like a felled ironwood, crushing several more buildings in the vicinity.
But there were two worms. Hawk turned towards the second, just as it struck. It’s massive jaws clamped solidly around the civilar’s torso. He felt several ribs crack, and blood spurted from his lips. The worm began lifting him from the ground, but the magic in the ring given him by Malchor allowed him to twist free at the last second. As he rolled free, another devastating barrage of magic washed over the behemoth, courtesy of his allies. The overworm thrashed and raged, hurling debris in all directions. Two more commoners went down beneath masonry and wooden timbers. Hawk leaped to his feet, and charged the worm, Mak right beside him. As the worm struck again, the pair’s blades sank into its head just below its jaw. They dove for safety as the monstrosity crashed to the ground.
The remaining citizens stared dumbfounded at the carnage, and at their dead friends and neighbors. Hollow eyed, they turned and shambled into the surrounding streets, taking their tales of unstoppable, house-eating worms to the rest of the panicked populace of Starmantle.
_______________________________________________________
Mistwall Manor turned out to be a dead-end. There were no guards, and the house was unlocked and unwarded. It was also completely unoccupied. The vampiric dragon might be arrogant, but she was not stupid. The League would have to search elsewhere. Yet a more immediate problem troubled their minds. Though they had killed the overworms, innocent life had also been lost in the collateral damage. The more tragedies like that occurred, the more hope would be lost by the people. Kyuss had to be stopped, true, but what good would such a victory be if Starmantle was destroyed in the process? At Hawk’s urging, the group made for the temple of Tempus. They had asked Lanthis Chax to shelter those he could there. Hawk wanted to see what more could be done.
When they reached the temple, they were quickly ushered inside by one of the acolytes. Over two-hundred people huddled within the main sanctuary of the church, their wounds and needs being tended by the clergy. Lanthis Chax approached the League members from across the nave.
“The vortex?” He asked. “Was that your doing?”
“Yes,” replied Faust, “but apparently it wasn’t enough. The clouds of green mist still linger over the city, and the minions of Kyuss still run the streets. We’re fighting a losing battle if we try and save every individual person. What have you heard?”
The bald priest shook his head. “Things are not going well. The undead are taking more people by the hour. I estimate we’ve lost at least five-hundred of our populace today alone. Folk are giving in to despair. There is no hope for them.”
Hawk stepped forward and looked the priest directly in the eye. “Your patron glorifies strength and battle. I know there is steel in you and your followers. Tell me, for you know this city and its people better than I, what will give them back their hope?”
“They must be protected,” Lanthis replied, “but at the same time, like in any soldier on a battlefield, heart can be taken by seeing one’s enemy destroyed. The mists seem to be areas where the spawn of Kyuss concentrate most densely. I would seek their first. Then, if you have the power, the Spire itself.”
Hawk nodded, then looked around at the crowded sanctuary. “That we can and will do,” he said, “but in the mean-time, where can others find shelter? You are already well beyond your capacity, and I imagine the other churches have opened their doors as well.”
Lanthis seemed at a loss. “I…do not know. They cannot stay in their homes, and all roads out are blocked by now. There is no place to go.”
“You’re right…” Grubber said distractedly. “Not in the city…but perhaps there is another answer….”
“What do you mean?” Hawk asked urgently.
In answer, Grubber turned to his brother. “Mak, does this god you speak so much about grant you the ability to create extra-dimensional dwellings?”
“Do you speak of the intangible mansions?” Mak asked. Grubber nodded. “Of course,” Mak laughed. “What god wouldn’t? Except maybe one who would not allow his clergy to fly.” Grubber ignored the jibe, turning to Lanthis instead. “Do you know of what I speak?” The priest nodded, but Hawk shook his head.
“I have no idea what you are talking about? Perhaps you can enlighten the rest of us heathens.”
“I’m sorry,” Grubber said, “ I’m getting ahead of myself. With our magic, we can create huge dwellings, mansions if you will, that are located between dimensions. Each of these that we create could comfortably house and feed two-hundred people?”
“How many can you create?” Hawk asked.
“Two,” Grubber answered.
“And I can create two as well,” Mak added.
“Then that’s eight-hundred more souls that can be saved,” Hawk said, “assuming we can convince them to come here.”
“That’s all well and good,” Lanthis said, “but how will we protect them if the undead attack en masse? The mansions will only hold for so long.”
“I have the solution to that as well,” Mak said, smiling.
___________________________________________________________
The glowing Gate coalesced above the main altar, and from it stepped a being that was familiar to the assembled members of the League. To the others within the temple, it was overwhelmingly awe-inspiring.
“Again you have called me, mortals,” Gabriel said in a voice that was at once beautifully harmonious, yet filled with implied menace.
“And again, we offer the required sacrifice,” Mak said. “The task we ask of you is a small thing to one such as you. Watch over the souls gathered upon this hallowed ground, and ward them from any harm or evil intent. We ask this of you for four days only. If we have not returned by then, then the Age of Worms will be upon this world, and all the hosts of Heaven won’t be able to stop it.”
Ika_Greybeard
First Post
Excuse me but I think Mak was the one that came up with the Dimensional Space thing Not Grubber Just wanted to Clarify that point other than that Great Read. Man what does it take to get some credit around Here Grubber this and grubber that 
.
But I do like the way you wrote it works fine just like that.
. But I do like the way you wrote it works fine just like that.
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demiurge1138
Inventor of Super-Toast
Love it. It's huge. It's epic. It's what the coming of the Age of Worms should be.
I look forward to the climb up the Spire. Should also be nice and epic![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Demiurge out.
I look forward to the climb up the Spire. Should also be nice and epic
Demiurge out.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Impressive!JollyDoc said:
Also, good solution with the extra space and Solar guardian. Plus, the people might turn towards Tempus when they realize that only there they'll have protection from Kyuss' (s)pawns.
Thanks for the update, JollyDoc. I could also feel the urgengy and the impending doom in the air, which I think the module is all about!
Ika_Greybeard
First Post
Tempus may be Supplying the Building but Helm is Giving the Miracle's for the Mansions and Helm for the Solar. The Sermons From Hawk about the Protection Helm offers all who worship him
They better get used to being Helmites
They better get used to being Helmites
