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Aeon (updated 10/9/14)


First Post
...Anyone know what happened to the old tales of the wyre story hour thread?

I can't seem to find it...

N/m- found it, bumped it.
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Has it been mentioned anywhere why the Claviger warned Mostin away from aquiring Shomei's soul?

I mean, she's made her choice, and that choice is to no longer have any say over who owns her. Why should Mostin be disqualified from owning her if he wishes to persue that option?

-Albert the Absentminded


Al the Absentminded said:
Has it been mentioned anywhere why the Claviger warned Mostin away from aquiring Shomei's soul?

I mean, she's made her choice, and that choice is to no longer have any say over who owns her. Why should Mostin be disqualified from owning her if he wishes to persue that option?

-Albert the Absentminded

This is only surmise :) but Mostin had briefly considered "binding the archdevil and forcing him to relinquish" her soul, rather than trying to purchase it. As if Mostin could meet his price, anyway, whatever it might be.

By the way, I just finished re-reading the whole shebang yesterday and, as always, I am simply left in awe!


First Post
Is there any updates past the one that ended with..

"N.B.: Contundor got smushed by Nalfeshnees in Afqithan, something which I neglected to mention previously."


Imo, Sep's SH is superior to all but Steven Erikson as far as writing skill and enjoyment factor. It's nothing short of gut-wrenching to realize I'm at the end of the SH, and it doesn't just continue on forever like some blissful literary dream.

Joshua Randall

GraysonEN said:
Imo, Sep's SH is superior to all but Steven Erikson as far as writing skill and enjoyment factor.
Heresy! :] Sep writes circles around Erikson.

It's nothing short of gut-wrenching to realize I'm at the end of the SH, and it doesn't just continue on forever like some blissful literary dream.
Now this I wholeheartedly agree with.


Well, just on the chance that Erikson is comparable to Sep, I just went and bought Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Vol. 1) from Amazon. Though it looks like I might get left hanging there, too; the projected 10-book series looks only half-finished.


First Post
Erikson is a fantastic writer. The best advice I can give for a new reader of Erikson - don't try to understand everything on your first read through, especially of the first book. He drops you into the story without a lot of exposition, and there's a *ton* of stuff that you're going to miss on the first few read-throughs ;)

Erikson and Sep share the ability to craft a believable, in-depth world. Erikson's scope is far vaster though. There are dozens of *main* characters. None of them are safe from death either - they're nobody's PC's after all :D

You're looking at around 5500 pages for the first 6 books. Most people I know that own them have read them all at least twice. Every time I re-read the series, I pick up on stuff I missed before. Something'll happen, and then a few thousand pages later you realize why or how, heheh.


Jeremy said:
Not Divertimento but the more recent one with the thanes and the multiclassed druids and bards. It may not have been a full fledged story hour but it was fantastic reading in any case and I wanted to go back to it. I was wondering if anyone had a copy before the boards ate it.

And... Yay! Update. I love the new bad guys, very impressive, and the length to which the good guys are going to prepare makes them even more so.


I havn't ever heard of this. Anyone know where I can find it?


This story truly is the cliff-hanger to end them all. There are just so many unanswered questions, like...

Will Mostin grow weary of arcane politics, and turn his staggering intellect to playing the stock market?

Will Eadric's long-lost cambion love child show up to mooch off of him?

Will Ortwine's next incarnation render her something akin to Tinkerbell?

I just gots ta know! ;)


First Post
Joshua Randall said:
Heresy! :] Sep writes circles around Erikson.
Indeed. Not to get off topic, but Erikson has a fantastic flair for epic stuff, but his writing just isn't up to par. Sep rocks him out.

Actually, of all the author's I've read, Sep reminds me of R. Scott Bakker the most... in terms of writing style. I think.

The Letter

They are not nameless, Eadric thought, although the fact provided no measure of comfort to him.

He had requested that Tahl divine the information; a direct communion with the Source would reveal their purpose and number. There were ancient names amongst them, to which rumours in only the earliest of temple chronicles alluded. Tahl issued a sending to Mostin.

Unsurprisingly, the Alienist knew of their identities, and the myths associated with them. Orolde teleported to see Eadric in Morne; the Ahma was in temporary residence in the Temple compound, and it was uncharacteristically quiet: many of the devoted had taken up arms again, and accompanied the Sela to Wyre's Southern march.

Orolde appeared bearing a scroll: he was nervous, his head twitching and his eyes flickering restlessly, as though every shadow might prove a lurking place for the Enforcer or one of her agents. The sprite was sure that he was trespassing in an area of dubious legality regarding the Injunction, and Eadric smiled benignly, in a vain effort to assauge Orolde's paranoia. The fey quickly handed the letter over, teleported back to Mostin's manse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that all of his faculties remained to him.

Eadric immediately broke the seal, and read the letter. Mostin had adopted an elegant script: evidently, the Alienist had been experimenting with a new calligraphic style.

To the Ahma in Morne, greetings:

The names with which you have furnished me are a source of some concern. I have arranged them in what I deem the most likely order of precedence, although I should make it clear that my information is likely outmoded: note, then, a certain amount of conjecture follows.

Temenun is a demonic spirit of primeval strain, native to the jungles of Utter Shuth. His form is feline. He was master of a wide dominion before the Sleeping Gods withdrew from the World of Men; a reign of sacrifice and terror, the memory of which still endures in the occult lore of nomadic wise-women. Wyre was still beneath two hundred feet of ice when Temenun was deposed and – purportedly – slain. I suspect Temenun may, in fact, have been subject to some form of
imprisonment – only to have been recently freed (the same may be true of others amongst the Cheshnite sect). Temenun's prophetic ability is said to be unrivalled.

Yeshe the Binder is at least five thousand years old; she is mentioned in cryptograms from the era of Shuth's First Empire, preserved in Siir Traag. Twenty-one centuries ago, Yeshe conjured Pazuzu at Khu and unleashed the demon upon the desert kingdom of Durjan, destroying it. Fifty years later, she razed the port of Triptah through the depredations of a demon named Narake – possibly a Chthonic. In times past, she built massive edifices – sites of profane power – the wrecks of which still litter the ancient erg. Her bloodline – or those who boast descent from her – still exercise power in Shuth. It is of note that both Kothchori and Feezuu were scions of her house, or at least made claim to be. The source of her immortality is unknown, but she lacks the pretensions typical of divinity, and has no cult.

Idyam exists now in mostly unmanifest form; his consciousness was transferred to his remains, which were preserved in the Temple of Tejobih – a somnolent Power who absented himself even before the rest of Shuth's gods entered hibernation. Idyam was held to have ascended to godhood, although his contempt for those who supplicated him was well-known. Idyam is no deity, I suggest, but a demilich. This may prove the worse for us.

Sibud is a vampire – a progenitor from outside the World of Man; an abomination, birthed in some other cycle of being – he arrived in Shuth two millennia ago. His countless spawn have infested the deep desert for centuries, and have visited ruin upon many tribes. Sibud's mastery of the necromantic arts was once usurpassed, and his bloodlust insatiable: his downfall is recorded in a document known as the
Kash-haya (Shomei possessed a copy; if you wish to inspect her library, I can arrange it). His command of ritual magic was legendary; for a while, Urm-Nahat was his apprentice. Together they devised a spell known as the storm of blood, which slew the armies of a rival warlord, Kumaari.
It is highly likely that Sibud can still convoke a respectable assembly of spellcasters; we can hope that he has not yet fully returned to his former power. If he can manifest his
storm of blood, then we may be in trouble: I would advise against deploying any temple troops en masse until we find out – a fragment recounts that 'sixty thousand warriors of renown perished' when it was last invoked.

Jahi is a demigoddess, who appears as a marasmic child. Little is known of her, save her
sparktheft – she is credited with stealing the divinity from a number of minor godlings in order to swell her own potency; some accounts refer to her as Jeshi's half-sister, who, unlike her sibling, 'suckled at Cheshne's teat'. The lack of other information is worrying; I advise utmost caution in any dealings with this entity. Although such advice is hardly necessary.

Naatha is a succubus of bestial mien, kin to Chaya and Chepez (but not Nathi). Ironically, she is likely to be one of our most direct antagonists. Naatha was once an
Ugra – a fierce protector – but she misliked any form of contractual obligation, preferring to bind rather than be bound. What else I can write on the subject of succubi which is not already known to you?

Dhatri was once human – she appears now in the form of a bloated mass of undead flesh. She is gluttonous, and rumoured to savour the corpses of those she has slain. Her title translates as 'nurse' or 'midwife' – it is safe to assume that her nurturing urge is not directed toward the living. She has mastery over ghouls, ghasts, and other necrophages. She is venerated by several death-cults in Analah in southern Shuth.

Prahar is a great warrior, an Ur-Priest, and a undead psychotic. He ruled in Danhaan before his elevation by Orcus to the stewardship of another world – a lush plane known as Veddekeh. After several centuries as the incumbent despot – a dark age overwhelmed Veddekeh, if accounts are correct – Prahar rebelled against Orcus and shrugged off his yoke. This part is important:

Prahar bound Orcus with a spell, and forced the Prince to meet his demands.

This is no small accomplishment. Knowledge of this event is obscure – Orcus made a great effort to eliminate any witnesses and records after his quick release. I believe Orcus made an immediate, absolute concession to Prahar's demands – whatever they were. Veddekeh became unreachable thereafter, and it's reasonable to assume the events are connected.

Rishih is a Theurge and a Thaumaturge. He specializes in compacting middle-ranking demonic nobility – powerful mariliths and balors, and lords such as Ahazu and Munkir have submitted to him in the past.

Guho Is an aberrant, festering heap of corruption – even by my liberal standards. She is a
worm that walks. This is such a grubby method of transcendence. She was a Blood-Mage of high credentials before seizing her immortality – I'm sure she's considerably more dangerous after a thousand years.

Choach – favoured by the dark gods – embraced unlife some eight centuries ago. He might be considered the 'junior member' of the sect's leadership, although doubtless none amongst Wyre's wizards – excepting possibly myself – can rival his power. Choach was renowned for his unbridled sadism, his perverse sense of humour, and, like Feezuu – according to the literature upon the subject – a preference for acid evocations.

These are the eleven leaders, according to Tahl's information. All equal or exceed me in their command of magic. Teppu may be more powerful than any of them, or he may not – the sprite's potency is hard to gauge, and focussed in a narrow area. His exact agenda is not known in any case, so he cannot be considered a reliable ally.

If my calculations are correct, a spell synergy by these eleven alone – not including the cabals and priesthood – could achieve a result in the region of the three-thousandth order. I appreciate that this number means little to you, but it might help if I tell you that the
wave of hate – from which Morne will likely never recover – was approximately a two-hundredth order effect.

I will expect you in two days.



The four of them – Eadric, Ortwine, Mostin and Nwm – finally met at the Alienist's retreat. Orolde had absented himself. Sho languished on the porch in a manner which made Eadric feel uncomfortable: some of her mannerisms were uncannily similar to her maker's.

Mostin immediately grabbed Nwm's arm, and drew him aside. The Alienist whispered in an agitated manner.

"So what exactly do you know about Hlioth. Is she safe? What's her agenda? Did she say anything about releasing Graz'zt after Fillein bound him?"

Nwm groaned. "I know as much about her as you do, Mostin. She does what she does. At present, she is an ally. I don't know if that relationship will persist. And no, she made no comment regarding Graz'zt – although I am sympathetic to her action. It must have been a hard choice, but Fillein's behaviour was arrogant in the extreme."

"What have they been doing? Her and Teppu and Nehael? And you? What have you been doing?"

"It would take too long to explain," Nwm sighed.

"Then summarize," Mostin hissed.

"I making gates," Nwm smiled. "Teppu mysterious. Mesikammi rousing earth spirits. Hlioth weaving powerful magic in Nizkur. Nehael facilitates. Understand?"

Mostin twitched. "What magic?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Nwm confessed. "I suspect nothing too controversial. Hlioth is bound – at least in part – by the Injunction."

"Actually, Nizkur is beyond the Wyrish border – as far as the Claviger is concerned, at any rate. Besides, everything that Hlioth does is controversial. Tell me of the gates."

"I have opened a number of tree portals," Nwm nodded. "Connecting Afqithan, Sisperi, Nizkur, Groba, the receding Tunthi realm of spirit, the Shrine of Three Storrs in Ialde, Deorham, and several discrete regions of Faerie. They pass through the primordial Tree-ludja."

"You have been busy," Mostin remarked drily. He raised his eyebrows. "From Deorham to Sisperi? You don't seem afraid of stepping on your friends' toes. Aren't you concerned about unwanted traffic?"

"Any traffic is good. That is the purpose. To enable the movement of energy within the matrix of the Interwoven Green."

"Your concepts are curiously archaic." Mostin observed. "I predict that your gates will become bottlenecks. Petty lords will try to control them."

"These are feys and nature spirits we're talking about," Nwm sighed. "Not demons – or men for that matter. You can't ascribe such emotions as desire to rule to most of them."

"To most of them, maybe not. But to enough of them to cause a problem, I say yes. Ten thousand gold says that you have an incident within a month. Where something, maybe a wicked greedy fey – such things exist, you know – tries to take strategic control of one of your gates. It's a resource. Trust me."

"I have no money, Mostin. Alas, I cannot meet your wager."

"I'll take a reincarnation on credit."

Nwm laughed. "Really? I would think you already have some unspeakable contingency."

"That was my big plan," Mostin nodded. He sighed. "Unfortunately, it never seems to get any closer. I also had the notion to spellwarp myself. And bind Graz'zt. And locate the web of motes. And to evolve the consciousnesses of the simulacra. Frankly, there is too much to do, and too little time. I'm bogged down."

"If you were to look to a more natural solution to the simulacra, I might help…"

"Shomei directed me to her pseudoanalogues."

"For what? You think you can attempt some kind of synthesis? Why? Do you really want two pseudo-Shomeis running loose? Besides, you would need the most powerful cabal ever assembled in Wyre. You do not command that kind of respect – consider your efforts to gather even a half-dozen mages to aid you: they aren't interested in your desire to capture the Demon, and ascribe your idea to megalomania. Although I hardly blame them. Can you even honestly say that it's relevant to the current situation?"

Mostin stared hard at Nwm. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's mostly so that I can gloat. What do you suggest with regard to the simulacra?"

"A natural solution, naturally. Or Dream-vestiges. Shomei has echoes in other places. "

"I am no Dreamer," Mostin sniffed dismissively.

"Nor am I," Nwm smiled. "You would have to learn. Is that so abhorrent to you? Ask Teppu. He might advise you."

"And he might not," Mostin scowled.

Nwm sighed. "Whatever they become, the simulacra will not be Shomei, Mostin."

"I know that," Mostin snapped. "This is no adolescent fixation, Nwm. I am merely trying to find a solution within the terms Shomei asserted."

"Did she specify a pseudonatural synthesis?"

"Not exactly," Mostin said. "Or at least, I don't think so."

"What precisely did she say?"

"'Begin with the premise that all creatures have multiple pseudonatural analogues.'"

Nwm laughed loudly, causing Ortwine – who stood nearby in conversation with Eadric – to glare at him.

Mostin seemed mildly offended. "I fail to see what is funny."

"What other premise would Mostin the Metagnostic bring to bear upon any problem?"

"You may have a point," the Alienist shrugged. "But she said that it would be my magnum opus. I can't see what other direction it could take."

"Just reify them with a wish, and let them develop in whichever direction they choose to go, Mostin. Surely she would have wanted that? To have you determine their course of unfolding would surely be antithetical to everything she believed. Besides, Shomei never exhibited any particular aptitude in the prescient arts – what makes you think that she possessed any special insight into the subsequent evolution of her simulacra?"

"The web of motes, you dummy. She saw it in the web of motes."

"You are overanalyzing an off-hand comment made by someone you cared about and affording it too much significance," Nwm sighed.

"Shomei never made off-hand comments."

"And you are idealizing her in your memory," Nwm continued relentlessly. "She was no less fallible than you or I. Goddess, Mostin. How old was she? Twenty-five? How much wisdom and experience can one of her age really have acquired?"

"More than most," Mostin snapped, his nostrils flaring. "And more than I, certainly. I was still chasing sylphs when I was twenty-five, and Vhorzhe had only recently apprenticed me. Shomei was summoning glooms and compacting with Belial. We are talking orders of magnitude here, Nwm."

"Fine. Have it your way. But you can't break Hell open, Mostin. If you meet her again, she will likely be your enemy: I assume Eadric spoke to you of Titivilus's veiled threats? That Astaroth could offer her some kind of deal?"

"Titivilus was full of sh*t," Mostin snorted. "And if Ed hadn't killed him, I think I probably would have by now. I've had it with fiends. They're too much work to keep in line. I've gone Enochian – for a while, at least."

"Celestials are no better," Nwm grumbled.

"Agreed," Mostin smiled. "But they're cheaper. The Host cut me a special deal, based on my connections."


"Aid me in this," Ortwine pleaded. "I need you."

"There are other matters, far more pressing." Eadric was unyielding.

She seized him by his pauldrons, pushed him backwards, and stared him in the face. Eadric noticed that she was as tall as he was.

"I'm coming out of this a goddess, Eadric. I can bring a lot of weight to bear on a situation if that happens. In the idiom of my former self: when I get my newly divine ass on the battlefield and I've got a vorpal sword in my hand, who's gonna try it on, eh? Right – no-one."

"Gods are plentiful, these days." Eadric smiled.

"True. And they're not all on your side," Ortwine retorted. "I will be. If you help me. You know it makes sense." She flashed a smile.

"I think not," the Ahma sighed. "Your apotheosis is not my first concern. Did you just use a suggestion on me?"

"Certainly not. The defense of Wyre and the Temple is a complex strategy, Eadric," Ortwine changed tack. "Consider your moves carefully. At least hear me out."

"Go on," he grumbled. "Try to be quick."

"I have to convince an insane death-goddess to relinquish a million or so souls so that life can begin again in Sisperi. As lunatic an enterprise as this might sound, I think I have a good chance of doing it. If I can get to her. That's where you come in."

"I have no desire to fight my way through some pagan underworld at present."

"Gaining entrance will be the tricky part. The entrance – Saivo – is a double-bottomed lake. It's…upside-down on the other side…for want of a better description."

"I assume it's guarded?"


"A dragon? A huge dog?"

"No," Ortwine said brightly. "Neither of those. Demons left by Graz'zt, in fact. If you recall, Saes was allied with him for some time. His minions have…gone native…if you catch my meaning."

"I'm not sure that I do."

"Saes has changed them."

"How do you mean, changed?"

"Augmented. Infused."

"With what?"

"Well, with death of course. That is her portfolio, after all."

"Which means what, exactly?"

"The details are hazy," Ortwine admitted. "After we pass the vestibule, we enter Ruk proper. If the reports are correct."

"If." The Ahma said acidly. "Whose reports are these, Ortwine?"

"You know. Rumours. Speculation."

Eadric looked exasperated. "Is there any concrete information?"


"Why do you think that is, Ortwine? Perhaps because nobody has ever returned from this underworld alive?"

"That is the consensus amongst the Nireem. I plan to be the first, however."

"Let's assume that you get to Saes," Eadric sighed, "but your powers of persuasion fail to move her: I would deem this likely, if she is insane. What then? Do you plan to kill her?"

"I would prefer not to. Admittedly, she is a minor goddess in the grand scheme of things, but her role in the natural balance of Sisperi must be respected. Eadric we are talking about returning life to a world raped by Graz'zt. However selfish my interest is, yours should not be. Remember your vow to Rhul…"

"Aye," the Ahma glowered. "I remember it, and it is discharged. Uort is slain; the babau purged from Soan. I cannot leave Wyre at present."

"Rhul and Lai won't ask you. I am less reticent, however. In a month or so, when my weapon is complete. A queen begs you, Eadric. Forty-eight hours: that's all I ask of you."

"You are optimistic."

"I am motivated."

"If anything happens in my absence; if I get stuck there: by Oronthon I will make you pay, Ortwine."

Ortwine bowed her head. "I will take your oath as testament to your seriousness."

"I will consider the terms of service which I would require from you in return," Eadric gazed stonily at her.

Ortwine stepped back. "I am no man's vassal."

"You will do what is necessary, Ortwine. Like you said, you need me."

"I can shower you with gifts. Would you care for some gnomes?

"I do not want your slaves."

"They adore me!"

"Service in kind, Ortwine."


"Mostin mentioned the enemy using big spells," Eadric looked at Nwm. "He seemed reluctant to expand on the topic – other than make mention of an invocation known as the storm of blood, which seems worrying enough. And numbers which seemed distressingly large, if somewhat unfathomable."

"He was probably sparing you the stress that would ensue."

"You think he has an idea of what might be involved?"

"I'm sure he does. Or has at least speculated. I have. The names that Tahl divined, Eadric – suffice to say that Mostin is more concerned than I have seen him before."

"And you are not?"

"The names themselves mean little to me," Nwm shrugged. "But the fact that it has Mostin worried has me worried. 'Eleven transvalent casters,' he keeps mumbling."

"And what do you think they can do?"

"If they can bring a large group of spellcasters to bear in invoking a single spell, I'd say pretty much anything. They could waste a few hundred square miles with a single dweomer."

"Is that likely?"

"I don't know," Nwm admitted. "I'm hoping that enough distrust exists amongst the leadership that they wouldn't be willing to pool their resources thus."

"I think their unity of purpose is apparent," Eadric sighed.

"And it's only 'apparent.' We, in fact, know nothing of their purpose."

"It is malign," Eadric grunted. "Let me rephrase. What would you do if you were assaulting Wyre."

"Why is their pupose to assault Wyre?"

"Perhaps some kind of divine edict?"

"Let me posit another theory," Nwm grimaced. "What has arisen in Shuth, and subsequently established itself in the Thalassine, has done so in direct response to the principle of Annihilation being invoked in the World of Men. By the Ahma. In other words, your sin caused this. Understand that I am framing this concept within terms familiar to you: I do not personally subscribe to the notion of sin."

"Are you serious?"

"Why have you not fallen? Because you are the Ahma. The rules are different for you. But what you do – how you act – this is reflected in the world around you."

"That's something of a stretch," Eadric was dubious.

"I would think that it was manifestly true, from a certain point of view: such truth is the cause of your veneration by thousands of people. I am not the first to take this perspective."

Eadric raised an eyebrow.

Nwm smiled, and assumed a voice of mock piety. "'The Ahma has invoked the apocalypse. He has fornicated with demons, and betrayed us.'"

"They're saying that?"

"Some of them," Nwm nodded.

"I am the Breath of God, not the body of the world. It sounds like misunderstood Irrenite dogma."

"Even your flaws are perfect, Eadric. You need not worry."

"What an odd thing to say."

"Perhaps God can breathe darkness would suit better."

"That is brutal, Nwm."

"Are you the chief agent of the Adversary, Eadric?"

"Perhaps," the Ahma slowly exhaled. "The thought had occurred to me."


At midnight, Eadric received a sending from Tahl. He looked nervously at Mostin.

"What now?" The Alienist sighed.

"I will be invested as Earl Marshal by King Tiuhan tomorrow. All of the Small Council have ratified it. It will consolidate the Temple battalions and secular armies under my leadership. I fought a war in pursuit of disestablishment, and what do they do?"

"Can you refuse?" Nwm asked.

"No," Eadric said simply. "Nor would I, if I could. At least I won't step on any toes this way – Tahl intimated that I might have to take command at some point otherwise. I imagine that he leaned on Tagur."

"It's just a formality, then?"

"Right." The Ahma seemed unconvinced.

"Believe it," Mostin scoffed. "Ten thousand knights will do you about as much good as ten thousand monkeys with sticks at present."

"Every little helps," Nwm stroked his beard. "And don't knock the monkeys."

Eadric's face went blank as another sending reached him.

"What now?" Mostin sighed.

The Ahma was unsure whether to laugh.

"It was from Tahl: Sela informs Mostin that Mulissu has reincarnated."

"Is she Green?" Mostin looked horrified at the prospect.

Eadric shrugged.

Mostin fussed, and drew his robe of eyes about himself. Lids opened, and orbs rotated in woven sockets in a disconcerting manner. Mogus emerged briefly from a dimensional pocket.

"You still have that thing, then," Ortwine's expression was one of mild distaste.

Mostin ignored her, and unrolled a scroll.

"Mostin?" Eadric asked nervously.

Potent syllables rolled from the Alienist's lips. A gate opened. Madness flowed from it.

"I am journeying to the middle region of Uzzhin and beyond," Mostin announced. "to confer with the entity Ghom. If any of you wish to accompany me, you may; it might entail certain risks, for the…"

"Sane?" Ortwine offered. "No, thank-you."

Mostin stepped through the gate, and reappeared a split second later.

"Were you gone long?" Ortwine inquired. "I see you have a new hat."

But the length and colour of Mostin's beard – which seemed strangely animated – and the appendage which issued from his robe of eyes in place of an arm, testified to the duration of his stay Outside.

"Longer than I expected," he nodded.

"What did you uncover?" Eadric asked with trepidation.

"Many things," the Alienist evinced a sage madness. "Including the location of the web of motes – and Iua. We have to go immediately. There is no choice, and no time for preparation. Do you understand?"

"Mostin…" Eadric began.

Mostin opened another gate. "Follow me," he said, stepping through.

"But I want my vorpal sword," Ortwine complained.
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...and a happy Christmas to me, Sep posts again!

The priesthood of Cheshne actually sound more daunting than Graz'zt, come to think of it. All the power, and none of the limitations - and they can be at 11 places at once. Scary stuff. Temenun is presumably some sort of rakshasa, and Dhatri a famine spirit or variant ghoul?

And once again, the PCs have too much to do and too little time to do it in. Mulissu, Iua and the Web of Motes, the embassy to the priesthood of Cheshne, Eadric's investiture, Ortwine's sword...

Thanks for posting. These are always a highlight of my day.

*munches popcorn*
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First Post
Heh, don't bother to try to beat grodog - just ask anyone from the Acaeum, heheh. Thanks for posting it to the Yahoo group grodog, it got me an email notification, which got me here, woot)

Sep, I couldn't have asked for a nicer gift from the internet than a continuance of Wyre. Well, except for a larger update. But hey, I'll take what I can get.

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