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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Alexander Bryant1" data-source="post: 7407386" data-attributes="member: 6916184">Journal of Etona - Entry 16I have listened to descriptions, different races explaining their experience of falling unconscious. They use many of the same words for sleep though most agree that it is unlike slumber in that it is closer to dreamless oblivion. It is not that way for us elves. We who do not know sleep find unconsciousness a trap underneath frozen waters: pierce the ice or die, gasping, in the attempt. I thus wake – as I seem to be doing more often these days – clutching my throat and panting.It isn’t much better. The sensations produced by cracked ribs, if you have not enjoyed them in your life, are identical to falling on sharp stones. My head throbs, shoulder tender and oh, my back! I am fortunate the skeletons of my kind are not built like those of humans or I could look forward to never walking without pain again.Everyone else is on their feet, so I smile weakly and shrug off aid. It will be nice to breathe normally again one day. I do look forward to that.The invisible thing was finally felled by Rey, her dance of the blue spear a marvel for me to watch and a deadly weave for it to succumb to.“Very well,” I say, “let us try the other door.”Rey gives me a wry smile.I press my ear to the metal-bound wood. Faint moaning beyond so I push it slowly open. Beyond is a short corridor lined with cells containing wasted prisoners. I creep in a few feet. Rishkar, Rey and I will be trees whispering over a babbling brook, unseen and unhea– Melinde, her steed Thunderhooves, and her troupe of shouting mercenaries sweep through the front door, subtle as a forest fire.“Form up on me,” she orders the men. “You and you: to point; you two on my flanks; you two high ground – those crates up there.” And then, louder, though I scarce thought that possible: “Officer of the Watch,” she proclaims to the room and perhaps to the region. “Drop your weapons and come out – you will not be harmed.”The hush that followed, I realized, was all of us trying to identify these furtive, leathery sounds – and for Rey and I, at least, the bizarre odor – that had slipped into the air. Something was stirring.And then the room erupted into Hellscape.Translucent tentacles burst out of the largest crates. Beneath were great round holes of sharp teeth. A twisted mockery of five natural predators stuffed into a great sack of slime held together only by some wicked arcana. They were as repulsive as they were deadly.Out of smaller boxes came other horrors: capes with teeth flew to encircle and smother the men who did not, as a group, react well though they did react understandably. One of them, armed with a crossbow atop a crate-turned-maw, fired a single arrow and then fell messily down, miraculously rose to his feet again and limped out the door. Another, wrapped up by a cape-monster, threw himself – and it – into a pit of mechanical fire spouts that had opened up. Ashes. A third also became caught inside one of the carnivorous rugs and stopped moving after a moment. Trickles of blood and then a foot fell out the bottom. Later we would find only wet bones inside.The only man left from Melinde’s platoon after about a minute of this horror was Sarge. He stood, steadfast, by his chanting and increasingly radiant commander. She was, literally, glowing. The pair were joined by Rishkar and the three of them simply chopped the abominations to pieces. As I was able to see while dealing with my own troubles, the monsters are, truly, helpless against the whirling paladin. Every attack is brutally repelled or falls upon her gleaming armor. I see it in her eyes: behind her snarls of rage fairly dances a being utterly in tune with her heart’s desire.Rey and I have our own problems: two of the prisoners turn out to be more of these savage changelings. We end them, and I recoil at my desire to see them dead, very-much-oh-yes dead. I feel it burning in my veins, clouding my view. Betrayal. No cut wounds like one to the spirit.When the fight is over, we nurse our wounds and chant our magics to heal us, and then we turn our attention to the remaining prisoners. One is an Elven woman frightened out of her mind. She could not hear me, simply running out into the night once we freed her. That is two kinswomen so far broken through living in this toxic city. I need to spend more time here or escape as soon as possible.The other rescuee is an old human man who can only repeat “Me am Gattel” over and over to every question. He did look like he was trying to communicate, under a geas perhaps, but I had not the patience.Phreet is not here. Just this abattoir.We search the place thoroughly but all that remains is the other outer door leading in to a separate part of the back of the building. Beyond is a pool in which float some barrels and a small boat. The Sodden Hold key I bear fits a hidden niche in a wall. Inserting it reveals the chamber’s purpose: it is a complex contraption that lowers and raises the water line to expose or submerge a walkway to a door. An underwater guardian circles the place. It also seems to recognize the octopus key and leaves us be.Beyond is the secret interior of the changelings’ base of operations, starting with a corridor of many doors. I go in first and, well, holistically locate a pit trap. When I come to, I am looking up at Rey’s face. Exasperation, concern, relief and . . . distraction. We must be in a fight up there. Yes, I hear it now. Rey fishes out and has me drink the healing potion I was carrying and then shimmies back up the rope. A moment later I, too, struggle to the top myself.We are fighting more changelings, six of them. I get a bead on one and drop him. Melinde and Rishkar fell another while Rey fights to allow me a better position.It is a lot of combatants, and we are a little worse for wear from the Hell room, so I expected we would have to retreat but we slew enough to force theirs. Mother Moon! but we are good at killing today. I expected more mercy from My Pitiless Mistress for those who have simply lost their way, but She desires revenge and so we are Her executioners.No, that is not it at all. They have Phreet somewhere and are busily torturing her. And Zita lied to me not merely to save herself but to outright kill me as repayment of my kindness.But changelings, too, are allowed to fight for survival and Phreet is human, a member of the species practically killing them on sight. And as to Zita, well, my heart refuses to believe she has lain this trap. I will need more proof. So am I simply angry at not knowing? Or is it something else entirely, this city and its too-many sounds, rank odors and ever-lit buildings wherein its cruel people buzz incessantly with plots and worry?These thoughts so occupy me that I have given chase into the start of an obviously deadly labyrinth of mirrors before a firm grip stops me.“Etona?”I turn to a bewildered Rey who must be questioning my sanity. This makes me catch my breath, a stock I realize I was running short of. I take her hand on my shoulder, draw a long breath, release. I squeeze her long fingers and nod. We turn to go back to the others –.– and are almost knocked off our feet by an explosion that fairly rocks the foundation of the place. We hurry back.One of the doors leading out of the main corridor led to a mirrored round room with a chair in the middle. It had been a relic of some sort – a thing of great power – until it met Melinde. Now it is a smoking pile of slag.Before today, I had judged our young, headstrong holy warrior as competent if noisy. Now I am beginning to view her in a different light. Her killing power has almost drawn up even with her ferocity. It makes me uneasy. We will need to talk.We steal into the back of the mirror labyrinth through what was once a hidden door in the ruined relic room. This allows me to surprise a changeling waiting in ambush for us to come from the other way. We return te to the room of now-blackened mirrors and Rey and I venture back in.A few turns into our exploration and more changeling assassins pop out of mirrors! It is the remnants of the group in the corridor, one last charge. The first takes an arcuun right in the chest. Te looked surprised not expecting, perhaps, that I would be unfazed by her sudden appearance and could react with a Silver bite from Angivre. But the second changeling from another mirror was able to knock me off my feet. Obi was out now, however, and with Rey protecting me the two remaining had no stomach for the fight.We went back to the relic chamber. Once the changeling there came to, te, an Elven neutral word for an intelligent being that Common seems to lack, assents to leading us to Telakin, the mysterious master shape-shifter in the heart of maze. It was surprisingly nearby.A throne at one end of a long chamber; at the other a bed with a head-fitting connected to wires and tubes leading into a wall. It promised misery and probably the loss of any unfortunate’s soul who found herself there. Sitting atop the former was Allustan grinning as if we were here answering his invitation to see his daughter’s dance recital.“You’re finally here. Etona Aspianne, priestess of Sehanine,” he said. “The mighty Rey. Ambassador Rishkar and, of course, the temporary officer of the peerless night watch, Melinde.”I gave him a withering look. “Yes. Why am I here? Why do you know who I am? What have I done to be someone you’ve ever heard of?”He laughs, delighted. “Why, the Nameless One, my master of course. It is he who sent me looking for you, luring you here to aid your pitiful soul in crossing over to his side.”“And you just want to kill me? Why?”“Oh, I don’t care if you live or die, but he needs your soul – asked for it by name – and so I must oblige him.”“Where is Phreet right now?”“Phreet. Lovely young lady. Stronger will than I expected: breaking her quite enjoyable. She’s now a permanent addition to my master’s home, holding up a bookshelf, I think. Or is she a foot rest?”“We have killed everything you have sent to us, destroyed every trap, murdered your people by the dozen. You will be slain as well, empty vessel, slave to meaningless cruelty, though I take no joy in it. Vel’er’e arquae Angivre i’Sehanin!”I send a blast of Her light at him but it diffuses around him as he merely laughs. As I settle behind the misery table at the back of the room, we – Angivre and I – send the Silver, arrow after arrow, at him to only minor effect. It is like rain on a boulder.But water always wins in the end.My companions also attack. Warned off by me, they fall into none of the room traps set for them. As this creature wearing Allustan’s face summons bolts and blasts, Melinde and Rishkar climb up onto the platform he is on, avoiding the stairs altogether, to face him. They are very brave. Rey sensibly stands back biding her time and hurling her spear as she sees opportunities. She sends Obi to help the other two.The creature shifts from Allustan to a huge be-weaponed half orc and back. This doesn’t seem to be strategic: he seems to simply be enjoying different forms, showing off his arsenal of skills. His broad smile never wavers as he hits all three with cruel blows. I am not certain we can kill him. Obi is already down. Her paws are shivering so I know she is unconscious and not dead. Also, Rey has not become a tornado of rage.I must act. Watching this possibly doomed fight, my friends out there dying for me: I must end this. My Mistress favors bold action from unexpected quarter. Crouched behind the torture bed, I see what I must do. The headgear. The link to the creature.I climb up onto the table, slide the machine over my temples.I strike darkness from the night. Mistress Moon, grant me Your light.I reach out with my mind.A black wall yanks me to it to be lost in it, engulfed by it, eaten. This is not what –, this is a conduit to the Faceless One! And that malignant being is pulling at me the way a starving hyena would tug at a string of meat on carrion. I am not prepared for this fight. I drag myself away. Somewhere my hands wrench the helmet off. It takes a moment before I can even realize where I am.Pitched battle. Yes. Melinde and Rishkar have failed to fall in front of him. Our claws are drawing more and more blood. The doppleganger tires, stuck, I hope, in the half-orc form, too spent to change?When I can manage it, I jump back down to my feet and resume firing. Rishkar is terrible to behold, a slashing, drilling monster bristling with his own arcane light. Rey has taken to the platform, guarding Obi and giving Melinde cover, her blue-tipped crackling spear darting and stabbing, finding its target. Every jab, however, from each of them produces a grunt of pain from an arc of energy that stabs up, claiming blood for blood drawn.“Pit!” I yell in Elven, “Stairs!” and Rey nods. There is almost certainly a trap at the base of the stairs; it is so likely I can almost see it there. Rey maneuvers brilliantly and with a body blow knocks the battered Lord of Changelings onto the floor.It swallows him whole. He falls onto a brace of polished, sharpened spikes and dies.When I come to the edge of the pit, I bring back Silver, and Angivre spits on him, partially severing his head from his body. No longer a ‘he’, it is changed to its natural form, long and lean and not so close to the small, gray changelings.We all plunk down on the ground, weary, disheartened. Killing that thing was like surviving an illness. There are no cheers. Melinde, I notice in particular, remains quiet. This fight affected her, and I realize I saw her almost hidden behind her shield for most of the late stage of the fight. Not the holy battle angel she: closer to a terrified girl.No one among our companions is close to her – she seems to make sure of that. Though, truth to tell, Rey and I haven’t exactly been very warm. And Rishkar is . . . Rishkar. Melinde, ever full of pride and fire, is probably lonely. She looks to right wrongs in her blunt, artless way but is too young to know what that means. She shoulders all the responsibility she and perhaps others have assigned her without any guidance save the terrifying god of blood she worships.We will need to talk.</blockquote>

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