(Cydra) Great Conflicts

[the Jester]

The Void

Can emptiness churn in turmoil? Can emptiness be disturbed? Yes; for in the Void of the Negative Energy Plane, the very fabric of reality churns and ripples. Great wave of energy radiate out, some powerful enough to breach the fabric of dimensions. Ever since the destruction of Acererak the demilich and his Phylactery of the Apotheosis* the plane itself has been writhing as the massive energies the demilich had been tapping snapped back into the plane, the Void has been caught in a long spasm.

One particular wave of negative energy washes out through the astral plane, a seething dark sudden wave that rushes through the emptiness of the astral for hours before washing over a huge island of rock. The negative energy seethes over and into the rock, and much of it seems attracted to the rock. It settles into the island of matter, pulsing with darkness, and slowly, at its dark heart, the island begins to stir.

At the Fortress of Conclusion, the ethros Remilino, alert to such events, takes notice. The disturbances still roil the Void, the ethros notes. How many more such events will there be? How long until the titanic forces that Acererak had tamed settle back into their natural quiescence?

The ethros contemplates. He only has so long to achieve his goals. Once the negative realm settles back down, he will not be able to direct enough of it. But if he can do it- oh, think of it! It is a bold plan, yes; and only he, Remilino, would dare! How could a death pilgrim, such as himself, who has skirted the edge of oblivion for thousands of years with the aid of certain Abyssal sponsorship, not take the opportunity to work amongst the seething forces of such a powerful fluctuation in the fabric of death itself?

In a time like this, new things are possible... things that no lesser mind would coneive of. New states of existence might be brought into being, and abominations forbidden by divine edict might be able to spawn themselves. Remilino’s face does not change, remaining somber, but inwardly he feels a surge of fierce joy. And I can direct it, with the knowledge in this fortress. At least to some extent. Enough to perform an act so powerful that my name will be remembered forever.

He issues a sending to the Void Master Pyrthl.

***

3/24/371 O.L.G., 3:40 p.m., the worm portal nearest the Temple of Elemental Good

A terrific battle ensues against a pair of deadly unique slaadi and their centipede-like allies that can chew short-lived portals to other planes, allowing them to (for example) add a little elemental fire to their already-horrendous mandible attacks. Almost immediately, Gerontius falls through the worm gate. Our heroes show a great deal of determination and zeal in fighting the battle, however, with Orbius casting his newly-learned sphere of ultimate destruction spell, then using it, a disintegrate and a quickened disintegrate against the black slaad adversary the party is facing all at the same time. Unforntunately, it surives and attempts to ruin Lillamere! Lester, meanwhile, manages to drop the other slaad with a hammering succession of fireballs and flame strikes. Inoke, meanwhile, slams the mace of St. John left and right, crushing two of the strange dimension burrowing centipede things.

Several white slaadi join the battle after a few moments, and the party is hard-pressed. But when Lester’s meteor swarm finally slays the black slaad, our heroes take heart. Soon Lillamere crushes the last slaad with a crushing fist of spite. Lester jumps through the worm gate after Gerontius, finding himself in the chaos of Limbo, and flies around until he finds his halfling ally. Then he plane shifts them both home to Cydra.

***

Hell

Everything is proceeding according to plan, Asmodeus reassures himself. Yet somehow he is still afraid. Of mortals, no less! he scoffs. He can feel the rage building once again. Well, my little friends from Erath will help me deal with my Cydran problem. I have no doubt that my... predecessor... has learned enough to warn his agents about them; but that is irrelevant. As powerful as they are, the Erathians slew Bel! Surely these Cydrans are nothing compared to that.

He grins weakly, trying to persuade himself.

Lucifer was never supposed to be freed!

***

4:30 p.m., Var

Disaster!

Our heroes return to Var to find the house of Lester’s girlfriend, Reina, on fire. Without hesitation, the L bursts into the roaring conflagration, rushing through the building looking for any sign of his girlfriend. He sees no sign of her- but when he reaches her room, his heart leaps into his throat.

Slashed on one wall, not yet aflame, is a symbol: a fist clutching a rod.

Gritting his teeth, Lester rushes back outside.

A bucket brigade, aided by our heroes’ magical abilities, takes several hours to put the fire out. During this period, much to everyone’s relief, Reina shows up in the crowd, extremely distraught. While most of our heroes debate where to go- it is clear that they are a danger to those around them- Veil and Gerontius decide to visit the shrine of Na’Rat. Veil’s desire to touch the chaos obelisk again overwhelms his common sense. But to his horror, when he gets there, he finds that the obelisk has been destroyed! The priests tell him that the attackers wore badges depicting a hand clutching a ruby rod.

“Crap! Crap, crap, crap, crap!!!” Veil exclaims.

“Come on, let’s get back to the Three Rubies and meet the others,” Gerontius says nervously.

The two of them walk down the streets of Var, but they’ve gone only a block away from the shrine when Zavael, the same bearded devil who attempted to slay Lester while he was having sex, slides through the shadows towards them. Unfortunately for the devil, Gerontius’ sharp eyes pick him out just in time, and suddenly Zavael finds himself in a fight for his life with the halfling! Gerontius slices him good a few times, tumbling into flanking, and Zavael tries to make him flee in fear to no avail. Then, as Gerontius lands another pair of blows, the assassin vanishes, teleporting away (via contingency). It’s all over so fast that Veil never even has a chance to act.

“What- who- you-“ Veil splutters.

“We’d better hurry back to the others,” says Gerontius. “We should probably stick together.”

***

Sybele plane shifts the group to the plane of Elysium after trip to the Halls of Healing to deposit Reina and her friends. There, in an idyllic valley lightly dusted with trees, Alcar communes.

Will the forces of Lucifer help us against the forces of Asmodeus? Yes.
Should we expect an attack upon the casters’ conference, when it occurs? Likely.
Should the doppelganger hang onto the six-fingered shield? No.
Are we being set up for a trap by the assassins hired by Asmodeus? Uncertain.
Do the forces of Lucifer plan a trap against the party? Unlikely.
Can the forces of Lucifer be trusted to keep their word? No.
Can the forces of Asmodeus be trusted to keep their word? No.
Is the Temple of Elemental Good a target of any forces involved in the struggle between the party and Asmodeus? Yes.
Does St. John want his mace back? No.
Was the simulacrum encountered in Sigil the strongest of Estelias’ sims? No.
Will the faerie dragon in the Great Plaid Forest aid me? No.
Were I to visit him, would he provide me with immediate aid in my quest? No.

At last our heroes rest, after an exhausting day. “Tomorrow, let’s summon Glaisig and make our deal,” says Inoke grimly.

“It is a mistake to deal with devils,” St. John’s mace opines.

That’s so true, think both Horbin and Alcar.

Next Time: Our heroes journey to Hell, gamble and meet a new type of inevitable- the ejukhaut!

 

[Knightfall]

Excellent stuff. Just caught up, with this one, after some time away from reading story hours. (Been busy writing updates for my own story hours, plus my monster threads, plus two gaming groups.)

Keep it up, J.

Cheers!

KF72

 

[Krafus]

Aah, further epic-level mayhem... Fun to know that Asmodeus himself is becoming worried about the heroes. I wonder if those "little friends" from Erath a reference to a certain event you've alluded to?

 

[Angel of Adventure]

Great Update ME!

 

[Look_a_Unicorn]

It was indeed nice work

 

[the Jester]

Gambling in Hell

3/25/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m., outside the Temple of Elemental Good

With a tinkling sound the glass of the pocketwatch breaks. There is a moment of swelling silence, and then Glaisig is there, tall and thin, his diabolic features, as always, composed in a featureless enigma.

The bargain is quickly struck. It is strictly self-preservation for our heroes; if they can’t strike him down, Asmodeus will hunt them until he kills them. They will not have children (or more children, in the case of Sybele and any others that might have unknown progeny out there somewhere). They will not see their dotage. They will probably not even see whatever celestial reward they have earned. More likely, Asmodeus- or his forces- will slay their bodies, steal their souls and condemn them to total annihilation or, worse still, eternal, neverending torment in the realms of the damned. No, it is far better to ally with one devil to oppose another, especially when concessions can be wrung from the ally now to prevent more trouble later.

Our heroes do present a demand to Glaisig, to present to his master, Lucifer: the forces of Hell must guarantee to withdraw from the Great War of Ethics.

“Of course, I cannot speak for those of other factions,” Glaisig responds smoothly. “As we have discussed, my master will be far too busy pacifying Hell to worry about your plane. He will have his energies bent to that task until it is complete.” He smiles thinly. “We will certainly agree to remain without your plane, unless summoned or called, for a thousand years.”

A certain amount of legalistic haggling ensues, during which Sybele can’t help wishing her old gnomish lawyer friend, the wizard/sorcerer guy, you know, what’s his name?*- can’t help wishing he was here to help iron out the formalities. Nonetheless, soon enough our heroes have made their deal with the devil. Only time will say whether they regret it.

Then Glaisig takes them to Hell.

***

Noon, Pesh City

Marius the Chronomancer grimaces. Damn worms, he thinks.

The mess all on the flagstones of the great central marketplace is gruesome. Between the shattered debris of the market stalls, the bloody fragments of bodies and the massive bulk of the destroyed chaos worms, it will take a considerable clean-up effort to restore the market to useability. Either that, or personal attention, Marius sighs inwardly. He has so many demands on his time... how ironic, that a chronomancer should be so worried about time.

But there is so much to do, and so much of it cannot be done from the sanctuary of his demiplanes or the Citadel of Eternity!

Marius disintegrates a large blob of worm-flesh, then summons a temporal nihlist. Instructing the strange outsider to dispose of as much of the mess as it can, Marius greater teleports back to the temple of Coila.

My Goddess, he prays fervently, I have made sacrifices to your altar of magic and dust. I have given you the spells I have developed, that bring your followers closer to time. And I have achieved greatness, moreso than any other of your followers. Now you must heed me! Please, my Goddess, desist in your folly. You must see reason. If you do not, you will have to be destroyed. You must join the side of Law.

Will she hear his prayers? Certainly; Marius is sure of that. Will she heed them? Unlikely. But the thought of Coila being cast down from the lofty heights of godhood makes Marius shudder.

She won’t be the only one, thinks the Chronomancer. The Judge of Worlds has been very busy.

***

Glaisig, disguised as a devil called “Red Scab,” escorts our heroes to a place to stay, staffed by tieflings.

The city is astonishing.

It must host millions of individuals. Most of it built in honor of Tiamat’s games, it is crammed full of all sorts of creatures. Though dominated by infernal denizens, there are a thriving number of mortals, other planar creatures, and stranger things still. There isn’t much sign of chaotic forces, save the quivering six-fingered hand impaled on Veil’s shield (which the doppelganger carefully keeps out of sight).

“It should be pretty easy for you to keep a low profile, but try not to act like Hicks,” Glaisig advises.

“What’s a Hick?” asks Inoke.

The party’s diabolic adviser sighs. “A hick is a very backwater individual. There’s a land called Hickistan, the most backwater territory on a plane full of backwaters. Basically, a Hick is someone who is... well... clueless.” Glaisig smiles grimly. “Try to keep your mouths shut as much as possible. And whatever you do, remember- watch out for the sign of the fist clutching the ruby rod.”

“What do we do if we encounter them here?” asks Sybele.

“Try to avoid being seen, but once they see you, strike hard and strike fast. They are the most elite of Asmodeus’ servants. Once they have seen you it is too late to evade them; they must be slain before they can call on even stronger reinforcements.”

Shortly, Glaisig leaves our heroes, and they spend a few moments applying disguise magic. As they are leaving to look around the diabolic city, Hellgate, Lillamere comments, “You wanna know what worries me the most about these ruby rod guys?”

“What’s that?” Gerontius replies.

“These are Asmodeus’ elite killers, and they’re mortals. Think about that. He’s got probably millions of pit fiends, yet these guys are better then the best of his pit fiends.”

Inoke starest at the Baron. “That is a very good point,” he admits.

***

Over the next few hours our heroes abuse divinations like they have rarely been abused before, heedless of the consequences. After all, why would Hell have any motivation to watch for people using divination magic to cheat at gambling, especially when massive festivities on the level of these celebrations are going on?

Right.

Anyhow, Orbius’ divinations lead our heroes to some stellar success betting on the nightmare races (the winner, with a 4:1 payoff, is Hooves of Magma). A succession of other bets suddenly sees most of our heroes in possession of large sums of money.

And what a place to have some disposable income! What a great place to go shopping! In a place like this, much like Sigil, you can find almost anything for sale if you look hard. Thus it is that a few of our heroes buy some rather nice pieces of equipment. After winning around 300,000 gp, Gerontius buys a manual of quickness of action +5. The chance to make some scratch by cheating Hell at gambling plays on Horbin’s conscience, but he thinks of the good things he could do with the gold. The Halls of Healing need a paint job and it always needs supplies. The poor of Var and Thule all need food and clothes. Conscience assuaged, Horbin too takes part. Lillamere’s ‘investment’ nets him around 300,000 gp as well; an outlandish shopping spree ensues, with the Baron buying items including a bunch of Infernal wine, cloth from the Elemental Plane of Fire, "Dragon's Breath" hot sauce and other goodies. He also picks up several magic items, including a mantle of mind blank and a ring of spell penetration +4. Lester and Orbius also bet heavily, naturally, and come out of it with nearly one million gold pieces. They practically go crazy, buying several metamagic rods, manuals, ioun stones, and scrolls with a variety of powerful spells such as limited wish, prismatic wall, sphere of ultimate destruction, and a few others.

Inoke doesn’t gamble at all, frowning at such things. Between the nature of gambling, the fact that they’re on Hell, and the fact that they’re cheating... well. He just doesn’t feel it would be right. The Mace of St. John would no doubt chastise our heroes as well, were it not now secured in a glove of storing. Inoke tries to persuade Sir Maxwell to likewise refrain, but Max finds the potential joy of cheating Hell too good to resist.

The big winner, though, is Sybele, who bets all her money and wins, then rolls it over and does it again twice more. She ends up with an unbelievable sum, which she promptly spends on an extraordinary bow called Cracker.** When all is said and done, she is very happy with her purchase.

It’s as our heroes are wandering the markets, pretty much done but looking for anything else worth buying, that they are accosted.

Next Time: Cheating in Hell? Send in the ejukhauts!


*Remember, Sybele (thanks to Chaos effects) cannot remember proper names. She is, of course, thinking of her old friend and adventuring companion Zeebo Swaysack, ‘the Mayor,’ who featured prominently in Agents of Chaos and the Politics of Tirchond.

**Pronounced CRAK uh. Cracker is a +6 collision seeking exit wound thundering mighty [+8 str bonus] composite longbow. If I’m not mistaken, this was the first time our heroes had found anyone capable of making epic weapons, with the possible exception of Fandral the Mage-Smith (who knows what he can do?).

 

[the Jester]

In the markets of Hell, where there is blood up to one's ankles flowing in the streets, one can find almost anything. Amongst the throngs of devils and blasphemers, it seems that it should be easy to be unnoticed. And yet, amongst that same throng, how many of those same devils and blasphemers are spies and secret police? Perhaps not so many now as there will be in the future, since Tiamat’s re-ascension is yet new and fresh; yet certainly there plenty there. And spies for others, as well- oh, yes; it is more than likely that Asmodeus has spies here, that Baalzebul has spies here, that Mephistopheles has spies here. Who knows; anyone could have spies here. There are certainly enough spies for one to spot our heroes and alert a pair of ejukhauts.

The inevitables move to the market, sensors fully alert; and when they spot our heroes the move to attack, beginning to shimmer strangely as a humming field envelopes their forms.

***

Alcar spots them first. The two inevitables are rushing forward. They are strange assemblages of metal and glass- skeletons of beams and rivets, with lenses scattered around the upper portion, bristling with spikes and blades, hissing with steam and crackling with energy. The two constructs move suddenly, gears within them whirring and clanking as they rush forward. Long spikes poke out from them in all directions.

Alcar cries, “Stand down, machines!” He invokes the righteous might of Galador and swells to large size.

Try not to fight them! Horbin warns over the telepathic bond that Orbius has forged amongst the party. We don’t want to attract any attention!

The party begins initiating various powers. Lillamere shape changes into a pit fiend. Then...

BUDDABUDDABUDDABUDDA!!!

Several of the strange spikes poking from the ejukhauts begin firing slugs of metal at incredible speed! Alcar and Lillamere are both sprayed by the weapons, which deals significant damage.

Never mind, Horbin warns over the link, and casts flame strike. It whoomps down, enveloping one of the inevitables in a blast of golden flames. It’s barely singed.

Gerontius scowls to himself. They’re constructs; they don’t have organs, he reasons. Then he smiles. Time to use a magic item! He thrusts a fist at the ejukhauts and fires a sunray from the ring of radiance he acquired a while back. It fails to harm the construct, however, seemingly fizzling out where it touches the ejukhaut. Gerontius swears, then keeps firing.

Our heroes were not expecting battle here on the streets, and are unprepared. Most of them require a few moments to initiate their enhancing magicks, psionic abilities and magic items, to draw their weapons and to move into position. The inevitables are not so unfortunate. They are ready. A chain lightning rips through the party (though both Gerontius and Chakar manage to avoid it completely) while the second one attempts to blast Inoke with a spell of extraordinary power and leave him nailed to the sky, but he resists. The party members that try to strike them with metal weapons find their weapons are being repelled by a powerful force. Sybele’s arrows keep flying wide, so she instead vomits up a stream of acid at one of the inevitables! It hisses and sizzles, melting part of the creature’s torso, and the ejukhaut staggers back a pace. Horbin blasts a fire storm at the two monsters, and though it damages one of them, each of them uses a repair critical wounds on itself, then returns to the attack! One of them slashes out at Veil with a sword-arm, slicing him badly. The mindspy staggers back, leaking fluids, and cries, “Someone, repair me!”*

Then Inoke slams the two constructs together, pushing them back into a vendor’s display and knocking them (and the display) over. He and Alcar leap forward, smiting the prone ejukhauts brutally, bending their frames and shattering lenses. Lillamere shifts into the form of a black dragon and belches a gout of acid at the ejukhauts, and then follows that up with a disintegrate. In a flash of light, one of the constructs vanishes, leaving only a fine dust behind! Inoke crushes the last one beneath St. John’s Mace, then immediately conceals the artifact of Galador in his glove of storing again. It would certainly not do to be caught with that on Hell!

“Let’s get out of here, quick,” suggests Veil, “before any of the authorities come to check us out!”

“Good idea,” agrees Horbin. “Where’s our guide?”

“Who knows? She ran off while we were fighting,” Lillamere replies.

“Our inn is on the other side of the huge arena,” Sybele states with a smile.

The group hurries along the street, soon passing into the shadow of the huge arena. The noise from within the bowl of the arena is deafening; even outside, in its shadow, even over the Rary’s telepathic bond, it is almost impossible to communicate. It is loud enough to make our heroes’ heads ache and their eyes water.

And then, rounding the corner in front of them, come a group of mortals wearing armbands with the sign of a ruby rod clenched in a fist.

Next Time: Storming Hell!!!

*Remember, Veil, too, is a construct.

 

[the Jester]

For those not in the know already:

The post above ends on the same cliffhanger point as the game did. The pcs all knew that the next game was a super-special gaming event taking place in an undisclosed location. Once we got together that evening, we drove to my friend Ruben's house where at last our fiendish plan culminated.

Ruben runs his own epic 3.5 dnd game, you see, and for about four months we had been conspiring and planning a campaign crossover party-v-party extravaganza, which none of the players were in on until the moment it happened (though one or two had put it together by then).

In short, his party is the guys with the armbands, currently working for Asmodeus and hunting my guys, who have been duly warned by the forces of Lucifer. We're about to get ugly, folks. As any long time dnder will tell you, the worst possible foes in a dnd game are other pcs. Much less an entire party of epic pcs.

The next several posts will cover this extraordinary event.

 

[Greybar]

Ooh. Oh My. That won't be pretty.

Now we get to see a real battle of wills. I won't be surprised if one of the two things happens:
* One group quickly realizes it is outmatched and bails as fast as it can.
* Neither group gives way and massive PC casualties result.

Bad news for "our" guys is that they're just coming off a fight already, that's got to be a CR-1 type modifier off the bat.

Can't wait to hear it. First epic spell to succeed wins?

 

[Krafus]

Oh yeah. The epic-level PCs confront perhaps their worst possible enemy: another group of epic-level PCs. This is going to be a fun read...

The Jester could you state what were the races/alignments/classes/levels of the other DM's PCs? I'm curious to know just what kind of opposition your party faced.