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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sepulchrave II" data-source="post: 2813974" data-attributes="member: 4303">THE PROSPECT OF EMBASSIESIn the aftermath of the Confrontation in Afqithan, Nwm the Preceptor assumed the form of a great raven and took to the skies. He surveyed the scene below: had it been any ordinary battle, a glut of flesh would have been his for the taking. But amongst the heaped corpses of demons and monsters, all carrion was foul. Ichor, not blood, stained the glades beneath the towering trees.Purposefully, he winged his way to where I lay dead upon the field: foes whom I had felled were scattered around. His pinions cracked once, and his talons came to rest upon a heap of varrangoin. I beheld him through lifeless eyes as he approached: my spirit lingered, unwilling to abandon my body."A third time will I restore you," he cawed. "And a fourth and a fifth, if need be. We are in need of every ally which we can find. The seed must sprout. The shoot must be tended."Gently, he lifted me upwards, and screeched, invoking ancient goddesses who had slumbered for millennia, and whose names he alone knew. With a violent passion, life returned to me again."How was death?" He asked."Cold," I replied. I smiled, and exulted in my new form, relishing its power and subtlety. I cast my sight about, perceiving the interwoven lattice of life and magic which suffused the place. "This is your doing?" I asked."In part," he answered, winging his way toward Irknaan's Fortress. "What now?" "I will remain here," I answered. "Afqithan is mine, now." He cocked his head. "That is a bold claim. How will you enforce it?""With ruthless charm," I replied.*Nwm stood beneath the sagging boughs of a great deodar, a tree not native to Trempa, but rather one of a dozen imported generations earlier, by an aristocrat with a taste for the exotic; some forebear of Eadric of Deorham, whose name the Druid could not recollect. The late afternoon sun shone warm through the deep green of its canopy. He watched her approach, studying her carefully.Her poise and grace were effortless, and her natural footfall, silent. She wore the same, tattered cloak and stained jerkin that she always had, but bore a buckler of sidhe metal strapped to her arm, won in Afqithan from one of the thousands who had perished there. Her face – breathtaking in its beauty – displayed only the slightest hint of contempt."Will this take long?" She asked as she drew near."It may," Nwm replied. "Lai has a favour to ask you."Ortwine's eyes narrowed. "And what does your deific protégé require of me?" "To embark upon a series of negotiations, with a goddess named Saes." Nwm replied. He attempted to sound casual. "It is better if I say nothing else. I am merely the courier.""Somehow, I doubt that," Ortwine replied. "Perhaps you think I might be less apt to view an old friend with suspicion?""There is no joy left in you, Ortwine." "Let's just get this over with," Ortwine sighed.**As Nwm and Ortwine travelled to Sisperi, and Mostin addressed the largest gathering of mages for a century, Eadric sat confined with the devils Titivilus and Murmuur in the summoning room. It was the third day of the interrogation.Mostin had been irked by the fact that Ortwine and the Ahma had caused Titivilus to crumple so quickly: the Alienist had expected a more protracted negotiation. He had attempted for months to wheedle information from the confined Dukes, but had had neither the time nor the resources to develop a spell which would reliably subdue them: if an unprepared magick were to have failed, and a Duke were to break free, things would have become very messy, very quickly. One free would have become three free, and three of them together would have overwhelmed him. But the Wizard was relieved that he could – for a while, at least – avoid the two remaining Devils. He was implicated in the assassination of an Infernal magnate, and would enjoy the enmity of Dis until the end of his days. The Ahma and Titivilus had spoken of the Adversary's role in Afqithan, of the deployment of Devils under Azazel, of Murmuur's Tower – now abandoned on the demiplane and, apparently, inert. Titivilus had speculated at length regarding the Infernal decision made to support Azzagrat – a subtle balancing act, to prevent Orcus gaining supremacy in his war with Graz'zt in the Abyss itself. Many of Graz'zt's champions had perished, nonetheless, either in the Confrontation or shortly thereafter. Ainhorr, Cemdrei, Uort and a slew of others were no more. Melihaen had abandoned her master and fled to Throile, throwing in her lot with Adyell and the battered remnants of Soneillon's horde. Others had joined with Rhyxali, or Kostchtchie, or slunk away to Yutuf or Terkunuteng to lick their wounds, as their individual whim or interest dictated. In Zelatar itself, Ilistet had rallied Graz'zt's army and led a savage counterattack against the undead host of Orcus. The war ebbed and flowed, but a stagnant impasse – which suited Hell's designs – seemed inevitable. The Prince of Azzagrat was fighting a defensive war which might last for millennia. His power had been curbed, and his ambition thwarted. Nehael was no longer captive. The Ahma had won, though the victory was bitter and empty.Throughout the exchange with Titivilus, Murmuur had remained silent. Eadric regarded him with a mixed feeling, which included a grudging admiration. Here was a soldier, pure and simple. Loyal, steadfast, unwavering in his devotion to his beliefs, and utterly, irredeemably evil.The Ahma sat, and laid Lukarn unsheathed across his knees."We have a few loose ends to tie up," Eadric sighed. "You may use surmise, but I will be alert to any attempted falsehood. If you try to mislead or prevaricate, I will annihilate you. Am I clear?""Yes," Titivilus grinned. Eadric raised an eyebrow. The Devil already seemed cooperative. Did he think that Mostin's absence would make the Ahma more pliable, or was the prospect of his freedom causing him to be less opaque than normal? He grunted, and shifted his position."Tell me of Shomei. From your skewed perspective.""Her soul is in a self-induced state of perdition. By rejecting Saizhan she made a conscious decision to consign herself to Hell. You have no authority in acts of individual volition.""I have as much authority as I choose to assume," Eadric grimaced, "but I agree that it would be pointless to try to rectify the situation." He remembered his own conversation with Shomei too well, as well as the words and actions of the Akesoli."If you say so, Ahma.""Is she in Dis?" Eadric asked, irritated."In Cania. Astaroth purchased her from the Akesoli. Perhaps neither Dispater nor Belial could meet their price: that is surmise, for the record.""For what purpose?""She is a valuable prize," Titivilus smirked. "And the Grand Duke has an eye for the spirits of powerful mages.""As currency?""To gloat over. Perhaps he will offer her unlife, for her immortal service. Pacts can extend beyond death, Ahma. Before you smite me, I should tell you that that  is also surmise."Eadric suppressed a shiver.The Infernal Duke smiled. "The inducements offered by a Devil such as Astaroth are hard to resist," he persisted."And the web of motes, Titivilus?" Eadric asked, ignoring the goad. "Where might that be?""Frankly, I'm disappointed that Mostin has not contrived a spell to locate it. Find Surab, and you'll find the web. I do not know its location."Eadric thought for a moment.Titivilus spoke. "There is other information that I would like to impart to you. It is freely given.""Or rather, the price is invisible," Eadric said stonily."Quite. Do you wish to hear it or no?" Titivilus gloated."I suppose I must.""My mandate as your tempter was revoked some time ago. Before my embassy to Azzagrat, in fact.""Why?" Eadric was suspicious."I do not know.""Surmise!" Eadric snapped.    ."To make way for one whom my superiors felt more suited, I assume. Or perhaps it was an abandonment of the task altogether.""You failed, then?""I thought I was doing rather well. No matter. Are we finished, now? Will you kindly release me?""I regret not. I fear that I have mislead you."The Ahma prayed briefly, buoying himself with Oronthon's power. Unholy auras flickered in response within the thaumaturgic diagrams as the devils anticipated Eadric's intention. Lukarn gained a silver sheen, and then the Ahma spoke a holy word. The devils' confining circles were shattered under the assault. Titivilus screamed silently, transfixed, as light overwhelmed him, but Murmuur withstood the barrage.Incoherently, Titivilus struck Eadric with a quickened feeblemind and attempted to dispel the dimensional lock placed by Mostin on the chamber, but failed. Murmuur lashed out with a rapid meteor swarm and leapt at Eadric, smiting him with as much vile power as he could muster.Titivilus, paralyzed, fell quickly to a series of brutal strokes from Lukarn.Eadric stared at Murmuur, who remained defiant. Unexpectedly, compassion welled up within the Ahma. He had no choice but to act upon it."Yield!" Eadric's voice thundered in the confines of the summoning room. "Submit to my mercy. You are no match for me."More blows were exchanged, and each hewed through the armour of the other. Murmuur staggered uncertainly."Yield!" Eadric demanded. "I cannot," Murmuur smiled sadly. "We are forever lost, Ahma. Do you not yet understand?"Lukarn fell three times, and the duke dropped to the floor. Eadric closed his eyes as his mind contained the magnitude of his deed. The line had finally been drawn. There would be no more negotiation.** Lai sat cross-legged before a fire pit, in which a ruddy flame flickered. Runes lay cast about her, and her handmaidens fussed nearby, pouring nectar into bowls of exquisitely carved wood. She regarded Ortwine carefully, anxious to avoid a conflict.Nwm, who stood nearby, was clad only in a simple green robe tied about his waist with a length of rough hemp. He scratched the dirt at his feet with slender staff cut from a young hornbeam, and avoided Ortwine's glare. His beard and hair seemed inordinately long to the sidhe, as though their cultivation might somehow hold the key to the mysteries into which the Druid had been initiated. A faint aura of Green surrounded Nwm – the dwimmerhame which protected him from hostile magicks. His hands and forearms were scarred from the massive backlash energies he routinely employed."You are welcome here as an honoured guest," Lai said smoothly, "and what is ours, is yours. Please sit."Ortwine scowled, and lounged casually, resting on her left arm. Nwm coughed, and kneeled next to the goddess."Let's get straight to the point," Ortwine smiled coldly. "Nwm tells me that you wish me to act as your messenger. You wish me to enter the abode of the Goddess of Death – I have not forgotten who Saes is, Nwm – in order to strike some kind of bargain.""Yes," Lai nodded. "To secure the release of the spirits which she has hoarded.""This is no small task.""Indeed," Lai admitted. "If I were to agree, it would require sizeable recompense. What do you think that such an endeavour – if successful – is worth, Nwm?""I am gratified that you retain your mercenary tendencies," Nwm said drily."Do you have a price in mind?" Lai inquired."Divinity is acceptable to me."Nwm guffawed. His expression changed to one of incredulity, when he saw that Ortwine was serious."You are a sidhe-queen, Ortwine! What more can you require?""Homage is pleasant, Nwm, but I think you'd agree that worship would be preferable.""It is not within the power of the Nireem to grant you what you seek…" Lai began."Then you'd better find a way, goddess, because until you do, there will be no deal." **Eadric felt edgy. He looked from the highest window of the Steeple, casting his gaze south and east in the direction of the Sela's forces – although they were two hundred leagues beyond the limit of his vision. Below, lights and campfires were kindling amid a sea of tents – not warriors and soldiers, but pilgrims who had made their way to Deorham in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Ahma, and to walk in holy places. He turned to Mostin, who sat preoccupied in thought. They had touched briefly upon the topic of the Cult of Cheshne, towards whom both now earnestly bent their will."What are they doing? Why do they not act?""The Hierophants are devising and casting spells," Mostin grimaced. "Very potent spells. This takes time.""And then?""They unleash the storm.""Could you perhaps be a little more specific?" Eadric inquired."Opening a gate is child's play to these mages, Eadric. They compact demonic nobility. Bhítis and Ugras.""How long do we have? Who will they send?""I don't know. If it were me, I'd start with a few balors. Just to get things warmed up – pardon the pun. When that happens, you'll know that the big spells are ready – they won't begin before they're prepared. I think we have a month or two, at least.""Can we counter it?""If we pool our resources. A grand alliance, so to speak.""And the Injunction?" Eadric looked sceptical."Only applies within Wyre's borders." Mostin's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Which is why the Assembly – which is demonstrating as much inertia as I expected – needs to come up with some solid offensive strategies. Fast. I would like to speak with your Sela. Can you arrange it?"Er…yes," the Ahma looked surprised. "I had intended to leave for the South in two days. Can you wait?"No," Mostin shook his head vigorously. "How about now?""There is áuda tonight and tomorrow – blessings which I am duty-bound to bestow, when I can. And I'd like to speak to the thaumaturge, Sineig – Canec informed me earlier that he has made the journey here from Gibilrazen on foot.""The Irrenite? He is rather controversial, I hear." Mostin seemed amused."And becoming increasingly popular. He has quite the following.""People like sex," Mostin shrugged. "If you include it in your praxis, it's bound to generate a lot of interest. And if you make intercourse with demons a central tenet, you will attract a certain kind of devotee.""He is treading a dangerous path," Eadric sighed."But one not without precedent," Mostin replied drily."My religion has been transformed beyond all recognition," Eadric groaned. "And I am responsible for much of it. Most cannot grasp the teachings which Sineig presents. Many of those who follow his example will be broken.""But a few will shine," Mostin insisted. "They choose, Eadric.""Choice is overrated,"  Eadric sighed."It is preferable to spiritual despotism.""Is that an ethical stance I detect, Mostin?""Only insofar as it applies to me. Now, can we leave?" Mostin nagged. "I'll have you back within an hour."Eadric nodded.**"I require celestial sponsorship," Mostin sniffed, looking at Tramst. "My pseudonatural servitors are not suited for routine defense, and require a great deal of effort to summon and control. I have alienated many fiendish allies, and lack a versatile pool of potential compactees. I also suspect that Dispater may have placed a sizeable contract on my head, or will shortly. Can you help?Eadric gaped. The Sela seemed amused."How do you propose that I might do that?"Mostin sighed. "Obviously, to sanction my gating of celestials and to waive any normal fees that I would otherwise incur for planar bindings. I don't see what the problem is. We're on the same side, here. I would stipulate only that celestials who serve me refrain from displaying their wings, or change them to something less offensive – those of bats or insects are acceptable.""It is not within my remit to make compacts.""That's absurd," Mostin waved a hand. "You're Oronthon as well as Tramst, aren't you? Just expand your remit."Eadric groaned. "Sela…"Tramst held up a hand. "I know." He turned to Mostin. "I appreciate any agency that you might provide, Mostin, despite your motivation. But you need to adopt a more conventional approach in this. I cannot ease your path to power, can I? How would that be of benefit to you? Perhaps you should speak to a celestial?""It is precisely in order to avoid their blinkered perspective that I am talking to you," Mostin groaned. "I do not require moral instruction."The Ahma coughed politely."Oh shut up, Eadric. So the answer is 'no,' then? Must I look to another source because the Sela is unwilling to help me help him?"Eadric turned beet red, and opened his mouth to deliver an angry admonishment. Once again, the Sela raised his hand, staying his words.We teach according to the wisdom of those who hear."I do not deal with the conventional, Mostin," the Sela was imperturbable. "But allow me to speak for Enitharmon: if you demonstrate your commitment, I have no doubt that it will be regarded favourably by those high in the celestial host. I believe that Jovol and Rintrah enjoyed good relations.""Commitment?" Mostin asked suspiciously. "You would need to refrain from routinely invoking fiends.""And their pseudonatural analogues?""The host would not recognize such a distinction," Tramst smiled."And other pseudonaturals?""They would make no distinction there, either. As such, these entities would be acceptable.""I will abide by these terms for the nonce," Mostin said grudgingly, "although giving up the daemons will be a wrench.""They are not terms, Mostin, and I am in no means acting as guarantor. But if you are seeking to curry celestial support, it is traditional that one show willing in certain areas. You might also aid the Ahma in his coming task."Eadric cocked his head. "I have a task? That will be a refreshing change to determining my own fate. What is it?""On Nehael's initiative there will be a nonpartisan embassy which represents all Wyrish interests, spiritual and secular. You must parley with Anumid: we must attempt to resolve this peaceably, even if is doomed to fail. Both Prince Tagur and Daunton have agreed to the effort." The Ahma swallowed reflexively. "And is my role to be religious or mundane?""Both. You are the Ahma and the Earl of Deorham.""One high in the Order – a former Templar – would be of aid to me. Sercion or Brey.""I can spare neither," the Sela said simply. "Nor would I, if I could. They are too unformed for such a task.""There are no others," Eadric grimaced."Amongst the living." Eadric was dumbstruck. Must I break every rule?You are the Ahma. You do what needs to be done. If you cling to outdated dogma, then what hope do we have?Must I slay you, as well?Time will tell. The Sela smiled."And you also expect me to embark on this futile mission?" Mostin asked."Your presence would demonstrate a degree of cohesion; a unity of purpose.""Which we do not possess," Mostin snapped."Yet," Tramst replied. "I remain optimistic, however. I think it is fair to suggest that all desire it, but none are quite sure about how to realize it." **The tomb and reliquary of Saint Tahl the Incorruptible were situated in a small chapel adjoining the Great Temple of Morne, and were reached from the main transept through a wrought iron gate which always remained open: the faithful, who sought Tahl's intercession, could at any time offer prayer to him. When Eadric arrived, only a single petitioner kneeled in quiet contemplation. By her ascetic appearance – she wore little more than rags, and her hair and nails were long and filthy – the Ahma judged her to be an Urgic pilgrim from eastern Trempa or Ardan. Or rather, she would have been one, before such distinctions had become irrelevant. The air of the chapel was thick with incense, and slender candles burned steadily upon a small altar.She gaped as Eadric lit a taper and kneeled next to her. "Ahma, I…" she began to whisper."I'm sorry for disturbing you," Eadric bowed. "What is your name?""Beka, Ahma.""I would have you be a witness, Beka. If the later interpretation of events becomes fraught with untruths and idle speculation, you will remember what happened here. You are charged with preserving an accurate account. Will you accept this responsibility?""Ahma, I…""If you wish to leave, you may. I would prefer that you stayed, however. Will you indulge me?"The pilgrim nodded dumbly.Eadric stood, and removed his gauntlets. Reaching out, he ran his hand over the face of the marble effigy of Tahl: a figure lying in quiet repose, hands clasped upon the quillons of a greatsword, upon the lid of a sarcophagus. He mustered as much strength as he could.Eadric hefted the lid, pushed it sideways, and lowered it carefully, so that it rested against the side of the tomb. Inside were a scourge, a sword, and a wooden casket, almost pristine. Eadric prised it open, gagging at the stench which rose up to greet him. Beka turned her head away, aghast, and held her breath."In these days, even the dead will have no rest," he intoned. There was a momentary flash, and Tahl's decayed form changed abruptly. His eyes opened."Ahma?""My apologies for interrupting your bliss, Tahl. There is much to be done, and I need your help.""Of course," Tahl smiled. "Where is my armour?""Sercion wears it," Eadric laughed. Tears streamed down his face. "Is the Sela here?""No. That meeting will have to wait.""I am the first?""You will not be the last." Eadric nodded."Who is next?""Rede," the Ahma looked pained."He has become wrathful. A spirit of vengeance.""So much the better," Eadric smiled grimly.**She was waiting quietly for the Alienist when he returned to his manse. When he saw her, blood hammered in his temples, and he briefly contemplated whether or not to flee. His arcane sight revealed no detail about her, impenetrable as she was to divination. Nonetheless, he knew her. Power radiated from her. The Claviger had magnified her."Am I to be arraigned?" He asked. "Eliminated?""You will make some tea," Gihaahia said with a wicked smile. "And then we will discuss the finer points of the Injunction.""Do you take milk?" Mostin breathed a sigh of relief.**</blockquote>

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