Aphonion: Journals of a Licensed Diabolist (Sat. and Wed. updates, last 9/3, 9/10)

[Cerebral Paladin]

With the metal spirits dealt with, I returned to sleep. At the end of his watch, Spring woke me. I took over his station at a makeshift command post in the center of the tribe, while Sergeant Cilorean and Durak patrolled around the edge of our camp. A few hours before dawn, one of the pickets came running into camp, screaming “Bone ooze! Bone ooze!” We would later learn that she was the second picket to see the bone ooze, but the first had died horribly, engulfed by the ooze without even the opportunity to scream first.

Bone oozes are a freakish effect of a confluence of a large number of bodies or skeletons and substantial abyssal energy. Under some circumstances, the abyssal energy will infuse the skeletal matter, turning it into a mindless but destructive undead ooze. Bone oozes seek out life, consuming it when they find it and adding the additional bones and flesh to their form. Occasionally, a sufficiently large ooze will split, but otherwise they just keep growing and destroying. Only the most powerful can hope to defeat a bone ooze in battle, but bone oozes move slowly. Under most circumstances, an alert group can easily escape a bone ooze by simply running.

I sent Bonepicker to inform Sergeant Cilorean and to request permission for me to attempt to deal with the ooze. He granted permission while he readied the camp to flee, and I approached the ooze. I cast command undead and willed the ooze to stop. The ooze stopped moving, remaining completely still in obedience to my command. Mindless undead cannot resist that spell, and while the bone ooze was powerful, it was also mindless.

I ordered the ooze to remain in place and returned to the camp to report to Sergeant Cilorean. He asked how long the ooze would remain under my control, and I informed him that my control would last for four days, but that I could renew it before it failed. As we were perhaps a day from the border to Tarkenia, we could destroy the ooze before my control of it failed. Sergeant Cilorean instructed me to send the bone ooze ahead of us to clear our path. It traveled more slowly than the tribe could, but we could give it a lead by starting it moving before the break of day, and the ooze would not tire or need to rest.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

A few hours later, just before the dim dawning of a new day, we roused the tribe. We had them all gather and form into lines so we could distribute food in an orderly manner. We also informed them that the food was a result of Lord Paranswarm’s bounty. The trueborn all genuflected and swore their devotion to us and Lord Paranswarm. I believe that the events of the night had strengthened our control over them. They viewed both the bone ooze and the constructs of the Orange Mage as enormously dangerous. By dealing with them--and in each case only sending one or two of our number to deal with them--we established that we were enormously powerful. They will need to be carefully watched to ensure that they remain orthodox in their devotion to the Lord of Darkness, but for now, I believe that they have accepted his dominion over their souls.

We proceeded on in the second day of our journey back to exile in Tarkenia. We wished to move quickly, since the hope was to reach the Shadowline before nightfall. Our hope was that the bone ooze would clear a path for us, allowing us to travel without interruptions. By midmorning, however, one of the pickets that we had sent walking ahead of our main body came running back towards us. He hurried to Sergeant Cilorean, clearly having figured out who our leader was, and gave a quick report. Spring and I had hurried over in time to hear what he said. He reported that a small group of “braxats” was approaching, along with a chaos warrior. None of us recognized the term “braxat,” and Spring asked for a description. The boy described goat-centaurs, although he did not use that term. The Sergeant ordered us to change course, in an effort to avoid them. It would delay our trip to the Shadowline, but avoiding combat was essential if possible. However, after only a few minutes on our new course, another of the pickets ran back in and said that the braxats had changed direction as well. They were probably faster than even the four of us, and they could certainly outrun the trueborn, so we had no choice but to meet them. The Sergeant called the four of us forward--if it came to battle, we would need to be positioned to defend the tribe.

As they approached, we saw that there were three braxats: a herald, who unfurled a white banner emblazoned with a black sun that had a laughing face, though the cruelest laughing face I have ever seen; a guard; and the Chaos Champion itself, a third braxat, somewhat larger than the others and with equipment and armor appropriate to its rank and power. The Champion had an additional laughing mouth in the middle of his torso, although at the distance I could not see if that was an insignia on his armor or an actual part of his chaos-twisted body.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

The herald blasted a fanfare and then proclaimed, “The Chaos Champion Delorian of Tamara of the Quenching Flame!”

The Champion smiled. “Isn’t it funny when he does things like that? Doesn’t it make me sound like a pretentious jackass instead of a goat?”

We all paused, unsure of how to respond. I had heard of Champion Delorian; like all of the chaos champions, he was a great threat and a powerful servant of Shadow, but he also was known for having a sense of humor. I laughed nervously, hoping that he had intended that as a joke. As we forced light laughter, the Champion began guffawing. He clearly thought that it was uproariously funny.

“I saw you marching forward, and I thought to myself, ‘self, those trueborn march to their destruction.’ And I considered letting you go past, or perhaps even watching your end, but I decided that I would ask you: why do you follow a path that can only end in your deaths?”

“What do you mean?” asked the sergeant.

“You head into the path of the Lord of the Host of Dust.”

I do not know if any of my companions knew who that was, but I did not. The Sergeant continued as if he did. “The Lord of the Host of Dust? What is he doing in these parts?”

The Champion explained that the baron, though an idiot, has called for the Lord, asking him to scour his lands for elves that had been seen. I took the references to the baron to refer to Lord Bastion, but for obvious reasons we could not confirm that. If we asked questions that made us seem out of place, the Champion might realize that we were loyal to the true Caldefor. The Champion went on to explain that references to elves are the best way to manipulate the Lord of the Host of Dust, and that the baron is concerned, but does not want his master to be concerned. The Champion cautioned us that the Lord of the Host of Dust would destroy us if we continued forward. He also asked why we were on this route.

The sergeant thanked him and explained that we had been sent to infiltrate on the other side of the Shadowline.

The Champion looked over the trueborn with us. His skepticism was obvious. “Ah, then you have been sent to throw your lives away. I know, I know. Who are we to question the commands of whatever member of the Council had this brilliant idea? Still, I hope that some of you survive, and that you can have your revenge upon them when you return.”

We agreed that that was the way of things, but what choice did we have?

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

Sorry this post is late. But on with the story:

* * * *

At this point the Champion began threatening the tribe in a new way. He said, “I am but a simple chaos champion. A simple, lusty chaos champion.” And he began looking over the tribe lasciviously, before crooking his finger at two of the trueborn women.

I was uncertain how we would respond, but Sergeant Cilorean cleared his throat. “Those are part of my contingent.”

“Are they your women?”

“Yes,” replied the Sergeant, although I do not think he meant that in the same way as the Champion had.

“Then perhaps there are those who are not…”

The Sergeant tried a slightly different tactic. “I need all of my people.”

“I would not take any of your people away. I just wish their use for a short time… And I might leave a gift.”

“Your gift might interfere with our mission.”

Chaos Champion Delorian scowled at that. “I suppose they might. One of my spawn might draw attention, interfere with your infiltration. I will not ask who among the Council had that bright idea… Oh, very well.” He then shook a finger at Sergeant Cilorean. “But you will owe me two when you return. Two sun-kissed wenches… I’ve never had a sun-kissed wench.”

The Sergeant readily agreed, knowing that we could not be bound by any promises to the servants of Shadow. The trueborn women were most relieved as we gestured to them to return to the body of the tribe. With that resolved, the braxats bounded off.

Sergeant Cilorean decided that we would cut east for some miles, and then turn north again. As the Lord of the Host of Dust was traveling west, that would, with luck, allow us to avoid him entirely. With the Sergeant’s permission, I put on the ring of invisibility and headed directly north, after the bone ooze; if we could alter its course as well, we could still use it to deal with any threats that remained between us and the Shadowline. Spring accompanied me, in case we encountered trouble. He flew high above, where he could scout and assist but would be able to avoid engaging any threats.

After a short journey, we saw the crater and wreckage that was all that remained of the bone ooze. It had apparently reached the Lord of the Host of Dust before we reached it, and it did not appear to have been much of a threat to him. We also saw what we presumed to be the Lord of the Host of Dust’s entourage. Two elves, both with the house insignia cut off their uniforms, stood at the edge of the remnants of the ooze discussing it. They were both pale-skinned, implying that they were either elves or Noldar rather than the drow that are more commonly encountered in service to the Shadow. I assume they must be renegades to have cut off their house-insignia. The elves had a carriage with them, also without any distinctive markings and drawn by a team of four nightmares. In addition to the two elves, we saw a handful of human and other servants. Spring also reported seeing two wolf-headed humanoids in the carriage, also with uniforms that had holes on them where insignia had been cut off. I did not observe the humanoids directly.

The elves were deep in discussion; we gathered that they were trying to decide whether to continue westward, or whether to investigate where the bone ooze had come from and whether someone was behind it. Spring and I carefully remained hidden at a substantial distance. After the discussion, they entered the carriage. The coachman snapped his whip, and the nightmares pulled it swiftly on, without turning aside from its westward path. With that, we returned to the tribe and reported to Sergeant Cilorean. I must admit that I am very glad that they did not choose to investigate, because I have my doubts about both our ability to evade them and our likelihood of surviving if they found us--especially because the Sergeant is an elf, or at least the remnant of an elf.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

We proceeded onwards, turning from an easterly direction back to north after a few hours of travel. Sometime after noon, a horned demon appeared directly in front of Sergeant Cilorean. The demon asked if this was the Sergeant’s herd and complimented him on it after the Sergeant said that it was. It then said that it hoped that the Sergeant was impregnating plenty of them, on the ground that that would produce better results than if they were allowed to impregnate themselves, in which case they produce more of the same. The Sergeant simply replied that that was not his mission. After a short conversation, the demon disappeared. I hope that someday Lord Paranswarm will grant me sufficient power that I will be able to destroy such creatures whenever we encounter them, but for now we had to be contented with having escaped without conflict.

We continued marching. With the delay of the detour, it was not at all certain that we would reach the Shadowline by nightfall. But even before the sky darkened from the bleak gray to a darker shadow, we had another strange experience. A boy, perhaps thirteen in age, flew over our tribe on a bright orange carpet. Even more remarkable than that, however, were his eyes, which were completely orange and glowed with a light of their own. He addressed us, confirming that we were “the sergeant, the magus, and the flighty lord they thought their power word would destroy.”

When we assented, the boy explained that he was one of the Orange Mage’s apprentices, before the invasion. He had been delivering messages for the Orange Mage when Caldefor actually fell. Since he would have been about six at the time, I suspect the Orange Mage arranged for the boy to be busy outside of Caldefor to keep him safe. The boy explained that after Caldefor fell, he crossed back across the Shadowline to help the defense, before retreating to one of the charging stations, where he helps the automata resist and keeps them in repair.

He wanted to know if we were planning on invading, and we informed him that we had already begun the invasion that will liberate Caldefor from the Shadow and bring it back into Orderly Darkness. He was pleased to hear this and asked if we were planning on using the tunnels.

Spring said that we were, which surprised me, since this was the first I had heard of the tunnels. He then said that we needed more information about the tunnels--where to enter them, where they exit, and so forth. The boy said that he knew where they were and could tell us. He described a large network of tunnels, with entrances on both sides of the Shadowline. The network connects in three places with what he called the “underfoot”--I’m fairly certain he meant the Underdark--but that even without using the Underdark, the tunnels reach almost anywhere in Caldefor. He described three major connections between the tunnels and the surface within Caldefor: one under Caldefor City, one under the coastal dragonhold, and one in the mountains near the Palood, where the deeper Shadow lies. He also said that there is a major entrance on the other side of the Shadowline, in Tarkenia, and many small entrances scattered about Caldefor, including at most of the charging stations.

With some additional cajoling, we convinced him to accompany us back across the Shadowline. Since he could use the power of the Orange and had important strategic information, he was too valuable a resource to risk by leaving in Caldefor at present. His magic crafting abilities alone would make him tremendously valuable, but he also seemed to know secrets about Caldefor that few others had access to.

The Sergeant asked what the boy’s name was, and he said that he was Teller. He had been Teller Smithson, but the Orange Mage told him when he began his apprenticeship that the Orange Pool would give him a new surname when next he needed one. We welcomed him to our group and proceeded onwards.

Because of the delay from the detour, night fell before we could reach the Shadowline. We briefly conferred, but concluded that the danger of another night in the Shadow outweighed the increased risks of traveling at night, and so Sergeant Cilorean gave the order to press on. If anything, we tried to pick up the pace, with safety nearly at hand. The trueborn were clearly exhausted and struggling to continue, but order comes naturally to them, and they did not complain or shirk their duty but obeyed without question. After about four hours of hard night marching, we finally reached the Shadowline.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

The border had been fortified; a body of troops and two Hastur greeted us as we crossed. The Hastur smiled to see us and told us that they had feared we would return the way the elven scouting party did. Only their heads had returned at all, flung across the border, and their brains had been scooped out before the heads were returned.

One of the Hastur questioned the sergeant about the tribe and was most pleased to learn that we had brought a group of the oppressed people of Caldefor back into the Darkness. They scanned over the tribe and concluded that approximately 400 of the 500 trueborn we had brought back bore the taint of Shadow. They began preparations to put all of the tainted in skin so that the taint could be cleansed. None of them were so badly tainted as to need destruction. Unfortunately, both of my concubines and my apprentice were among those who would need cleansing, but at least their taint had not yet spread to me. Spending three weeks or so in skin would not be a very effective way of serving Lord Paranswarm. We organized the tribe and got it settled on the outskirts of the town that surrounds the Hastur tower.

I asked Sergeant Cilorean for permission to take one of the dragon eggs, as I thought that it could be used as part of an effective offer to bind the erinyes I had made contact with on our last expedition into the Shadow. The Sergeant wisely told me to ask the Church, as we would turn all of the eggs over to the religious authorities. The priests would certainly know how to raise the eggs to be loyal servants of Paranswarm, following in the wake of Vitrix-Henoxi, the great two-headed dragon saint.

Shortly after we returned to Tarkenia, we were honored by a most auspicious visitor. Tarkenia serves Glor’diadel, Lord of Light, and the Holy Church of Lord Paranswarm is all but unknown in its lands. However, there is a bishop of the Holy Church, nominally without portfolio, who serves as the ambassador from the Holy See to the Glor’diadelian lands of Zest’qua. The understanding between the Holy See and the Glor’diadelian temple precludes him from engaging in proselytization efforts, but he can minister to the religious needs of the refugees who have fled our homeland. My understanding is that when Caldefor has been liberated, he will automatically ascend to the office of Archbishop of Caldefor. We had hoped that he might send someone from his household, but he honored us by coming himself.

We genuflected to him, and he permitted us to kiss his episcopal ring. We described our efforts on behalf of the Lord of Darkness, and he said that he was most pleased. He even offered to personally lead a mass for us and to confess our sins. We presented the eggs to him, which also pleased him. Sergeant Cilorean also brought up some matters of strategy, and the bishop promised to arrange for a strategist to discuss our thoughts so that our efforts might form part of a more comprehensive plan.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

After we had addressed the matters of overall importance, I presented my journals to him for review and stated that I hoped to bind an erinyes. I asked for his permission to use one of the dragon eggs as part of an offering to the devil. He readily gave his consent, after examining my license to make sure it was in order, and even agreed to a further request to draw the circle against evil that I would use to hold the erinyes. While I could draw such a circle myself, his would be more powerful and more likely to bind her. Unfortunately, no condemned prisoners would be available for sacrifice. As he explained, the Glor’diadelians rarely even turn over prisoners to him to use for the great rituals on the holy days, and of course Lord Paranswarm would have first claim to appropriate sacrifices, long before any would be offered to a mere devil. For an erinyes, however, animal sacrifices should be sufficient, and my license authorized animal sacrifices without additional dispensations.

The bishop decided that I would attempt the summoning after the mass. We organized the entire tribe of trueborn to attend, and indeed to undergo a more formal endarkening so that they could fully participate in the mass. His excellence assigned me penance for my failings, which I performed promptly--may Lord Paranswarm order my actions so that I do not fail so again. I will say nothing more of such matters for fear of transgressing against the sanctity of the confessional seal. We then took part in the mass. It has been so rare to have any masses since the fall of our homeland. To have a bishop celebrate mass for us was almost beyond imagining. It served as a lesson that we should never doubt the ability of Lord Paranswarm’s Church to attend to the needs of His loyal followers.

After the mass, but before we attempted the summoning, the Sergeant, Spring, and I discussed artificing with Teller. Teller happily agreed to make items of power for us, but he could not make a bag of holding, which was what Spring most wanted. It is possible with Orange magic, but beyond his understanding. He did agree to make a great war-wagon for us that would propel itself, although he would also make two automata disguised as nightmares, so that it would not be as obvious. The work would be done of bronze and copper, and we agreed to purchase a forge for him to aid his efforts on behalf of the resistance. Sergeant Cilorean also procured the crystal matrix from the Hastur that would power the cart. Unfortunately, it would be some months before Teller could finish the construction.

The bishop and I carefully made our preparations for the summoning. He carefully drew the circle, leaving a small gap to allow passage. We set up the egg on an ornate stand in the circle. I also carefully arranged the implements of coercion and laid out the candles in the appropriate patterns. When all was ready, his excellence the bishop withdrew to a side of the room to observe.

I lit the candles, slit the throats of the black goats I had purchased for the purpose, and began chanting. I could not actually call the erinyes, as that was beyond my power. But I hoped that she would sense my effort and come of her own accord, and I prayed to the Lord of Orderly Darkness for his assistance in that matter. As I chanted and reached the height of the ceremony, the lady appeared.

A dome of perfect darkness appeared in the room and then vanished, revealing the erinyes standing there. To be certain, his excellence and I compared her features to those most typically described in accounts of erinyes, and the match was perfect: she was a beautiful, tall woman, with small horns on her forehead and black wings covered in fine feathers. Her magical rope coiled around her left arm, ready to be flung to entangle her enemies. His excellence gave a short nod, confirming that I could bind her. She looked at me imperiously. “You wished to see me?”

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

I flattened myself on the ground, genuflecting to her. “Thank you for deigning to answer the call of one such as myself, great lady. I wish to offer you the lives of these goats as a gift and in thanks for your presence, with no strings or commitments asked.”

She smiled, reached out her hands, and drained the fading life energy of all of the goats. “It is a worthy gift.”

“Thank you, your ladyship. I now wish to offer you a deal. I have come into possession of a black dragon egg, with some months to go but nearing hatching. I offer it to you for a price.” I gestured at the egg.

Greed and desire flashed across her face, followed by suspicion. “What do you wish in return?”

“Knowledge of your true name, and an agreement that you will view and treat me as an ally and will not seek to harm me or gain revenge for this or any other deal or negotiation we may enter into.”

She thought for a moment. “That might be acceptable. Shall I prepare an appropriate contract?”

“My lady, I have already drawn one up.” I drew forth a carefully prepared vellum contract, with the terms clearly stated. This was a standard early contract when neither party wished to enter into true servitude, so I was quite confident that it would accomplish its goals. I knew better than to allow a devil to draft a contract, except under the most desperate of circumstances.

She carefully read over the contract, double-checking the most important clauses. She paused, considering it, then looked at the egg again, and nodded. “Very well.” I passed her a silver-tipped quill, which she used to draw blood from her arm to sign the contract. She passed it back to me, and I signed and sealed it.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

“And your true name, my lady?”

“I am Alveera.” As she said that, I checked and saw that that was the name that she had signed the contract with, as was proper. “And now, ally, may I claim the egg you promised?”

“You may.” I gestured to the stand.

She quickly hurried over to the egg and placed her hands on it, rubbing its sides and feeling the power within. While she was distracted, I stepped behind her and with a few quick strokes added her name to the circle and closed it, trapping her within.

She spun, anger but perhaps also amusement flashing on her face. One hand remained on the egg. “What is this?”

I stood up fully and faced her with as much confidence as I could muster. “We negotiated for the egg. Now we will negotiate a deal for your release from the circle.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you force me to take more direct measures.” I pulled aside the velvet covering I had placed over the scourges, firestone, silver dagger, and similar implements. “You should remember that you were not conjured here but came under your own power. Even though we are not on your plane, you can lose much if your form here is damaged, and you will not return to your plane unharmed when the time on a summoning runs out. And you are still bound by our prior agreement, and can take no revenge for this negotiation.”

She inclined her head slightly, thoughtfully. “So… you have made preparations for this and are willing to make this hard.”

“Indeed, but I have no desire to, if you agree to my terms.”

“Perhaps. What terms do you offer?”

“You agree to be bound to my service.” I drew forth the gold summoning ring that the bishop had procured for me at my request and brandished it at her. “You swear to serve me, loyally and without reservation, now and forever.”

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

“Forever? But…” That clearly surprised and dismayed Alveera. I think she considered appealing to my compassion, or pointing out that I could only threaten a short period of torment, but I looked at the implements as if to pick one out, and she chose a different tack. “Surely you would not need my service forever. You are a mortal--a powerful mortal, destined for great things,” she flattered, “but mortal nonetheless. Surely you will have no need of my services after you die. A term of service-- for your life, or perhaps a century if you prefer a fixed term--would provide you with all the service you could benefit from.”

“Perhaps, but you assume that I will die and be unable to benefit from further services. What if I become a being like yourself? It is possible. And then I would want your service in Hell. But if I die, I will no longer be able to command you, and you will be able to act as if you were not bound to my will.” I neglected to mention that I would command her to serve other loyal Paranswarmians after my death.

“So it would be much the same as being bound for the length of your life… unless you become like me.” [There was much laughter in Malancet’s court in the Abyss at that. They had made the succubus appear as much like an erinyes as possible to lure Konrad into her trap, but the thought that she would lead him to become a fellow demon was delicious indeed. A few even bet on the matter, much as they had previously bet on the terms that the succubus would pretend to accept. The abyssal bookmakers thought it much more likely that Konrad would join them as a lost soul for torment than as an equal.] “That might be acceptable. But if you were to bind me into that ring, you would destroy the value of the egg you traded me. How am I to gain its worth if I cannot raise the dragon hatchling and train it to serve me? I cannot bring an egg with me into that ring. Do you seek to void our previous contract?”

“Never. We can bind you to the ring, instead of into it. It will be a symbol of your servitude, and a means to call you, rather than a prison. Besides, I wish you to raise the dragon, just as I wish you to gain power over other devils and similar servants. By serving you, they will make you more powerful. And since you will serve me, that will make them my indirect servants, just as binding you to my service makes you indirectly serve Lord Paranswarm’s will.”

“So I could continue to dwell on my lands on my home plane, except when you call me to your service?”

“Indeed. You could continue in all ways as before, except that I would have the power to call you to direct service and you would always be bound to act consistently with your service and to serve my interests.”

“What of my other commitments? I will lose much power if I must break off all ties…”

“You may continue to serve your hierarchy except as that is inconsistent with serving me. I believe that is a standard arrangement for devils who have been bound.”

The erinyes thought about the offer for a while further. She looked at me, appraisingly I think, looked back at the implements, and finally gave a short nod. “I agree to your terms.”