(Cydra) Great Conflicts

[the Jester]

8/10/371 O.L.G., 7:30 p.m., Shire Role, the Glen Lands

Though most of our heroes can fit in the halfling dwellings with only minor cramping, Sybele and Dorn Wankerman both find it a little bit more... challenging. They are both, through one magical means or another, much larger than the average human. They find the conditions cramped and uncomfortable, but both are as polite as can be about it. After all, it isn’t every day that you get a meal cooked by a shire (or village) of halflings!

They have been talking to the halflings for several hours. They told the wee folk of their assault on and destruction of the warlord’s army, and the halflings are generally overjoyed at the news. However, they are also more than a little concerned (“well, who will their new warlord be, I wonder?”). Moreover, the halflings have worm problems.

“The Prophecy of the Worms,” Inoke states grimly.

“That giant sure opened up a lot of trouble,” complains Horbin.

Meanwhile, the overlarge Sybele turns her head towards Baron Lillamere. As she does so, her thick blonde braid knocks over a stool. Listen, she tells the elven sorcerer over the party’s permanent telepathic bond, I wanted to talk to you about storming that Law place.

The Bastion of Law, Lillamere nods. One of the times Sybele was touched by Chaos, it robbed her of the ability to remember the names of things or people.

Right, she ‘says’. I’ll attack it with you, but I have three conditions.

First, I’ll only do it on the condition that, uh, warmind fellow doesn’t fight against us.

Inoke, in the middle of a conversation with one of the halflings, starts. His spoken conversation falters for a moment, but then he initiates a schism, and while he engages the halfling with one mind (his his physical voice), his other mind speaks up over the link. I’m not going to go with you to attack the Bastion, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fight against you. You guys are my friends- I already told Horbin that that takes precedence. Back when I had the Mace of Saint John I had the same conversation with it before I converted. You don’t have to worry about that. But I think it’s stupid- you’re just going to get caught up in that perpetual battle in front of the Bastion. We should do something else instead.

Lillamere replies, Most of us made a vow in return for a gift at the Isle of Vuivui. We have no choice in the matter.

You swore to Chaos, Inoke snorts. Does that even count?

I didn’t take the vow, Sybele says. But if I’m going to the Law place with you guys, I want to get back to the, uhh, Chaos island-place and get a gift as well.

Lillamere nods. That’s a good idea. Anyway, what’s your second condition?

Sybele tosses her head, and her braid knocks a trio of books off a halfling shelf. After we attack the place, we go back to the mountain, where we all died.

Bile Mountain, Horbin supplies.

Yeah, that place! she exclaims telepathically.

Yes, I want to retrieve Drelvin’s bow, Lillamere declares. I don’t have a problem with that.

Inoke puts in, I would rather go there first. I’ll go with you there.

Lillamere promises, That’s next on the list.

All right, Sybele states mentally. And my third condition- you have to break the compulsion the time wizard guy has over me.

Lillamere exclaims, Marius? What compulsion?

A couple of years ago, he kidnapped my daughter and held her hostage. He only released her to me when I agreed to perform three services for him. I’ve done two.

Lillamere asks, What were they?

I helped him again one of his simulacra. Then, he just used me as a bodyguard during this big ceremony when he was appointed an Arrow of Law. He was just showing off that time, really.

Inoke sends over the link, Well, you made a deal. You shouldn’t break it just because it’s convenient.

She was under duress, Chakar objects. You cannot be held to a deal made under duress. Inoke only shrugs.

All right, I can agree to all of that.

Good- then we will go to the Isle of Vuivui tomorrow, Lillamere declares. You can get a gift of Chaos, and we’ll go on from there.

I think we should finish making sure that my people are safe, Gerontius opines. Who knows what the orcs will do now? And zey have worm problems.*

The worms seem like a pressing issue for your people, Chakar nods.

Lillamere nods. And I can agree to that as well. All right, so a few small diversions before we hit the Bastion.

Good, Inoke states. I’m telling you, that’s a bad idea. Think about all those people caught up in it! Do you really want to be one of them?

Of course nobody does, but they nonetheless have made a commitment. Still, the thought of being caught up in eternal conflict leaves our heroes cold. “We’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t happen,” declares Lillamere.

***

8/11/371 O.L.G., 9:30 a.m.

Breakfast, naturally, is terrific (“most important meal of the day,” nods the halfling cook). Wankerman accidentally knocks over the same three books that Sybele’s hair got last night, but Sybele amazingly doesn’t disturb anything special. As they are eating, they hear a commotion outside. It seems the halflings have another visitor: a fellow named Sonja. Sonja proves to be a man of red and brown hair who has the look of a fellow used to the wilderness. The halflings introduce him as another individual who has helped them against the orcs in the past. “We just killed their warlord,” Baron Lillamere tells him. Whether or not this was a good idea, I am not sure, he adds to himself. Indeed, he is growing more and more uneasy, worrying about the possible consequences. Who will take over? Will he be better or worse? This may complicate things... Worse, the warlord was a cog in the war machine of Law. Law’s not going to take this well, he thinks mournfully.

Sonja, meanwhile, engages the rest of the party in conversation, and upon being drawn out himself he admits that he is a druid (and actually knows Seethe). From what the halfling chatter tells our heroes, he is of some repute, as well. He also admits to having dealt with some worms in the area.

The party hits it off with Sonja in that way that they often do with new pcs. His politics are ambiguous; he seems inclined to strike at Law when the party mentions the idea, but when Inoke says that they should look for whatever the Bastion of Chaos might be and strike it down as well, Sonja shrugs and agrees to that idea as well.

Alcar arrives after the group has been conversing with Sonja for an hour or so. He is there just in time for elevensies. As he is the Angel of Food, this is perfectly appropriate, and he creates a heroes’ feast to accompany the halfling cooks. This causes great joy through the shire. Alcar and Sonja exchange introductions.

“Well, would you like to accompany us to the Isle of Vuivui?” offers Lillamere.

“It is a far journey, but we shall make it quickly,” Chakar says solemnly.

“Sure,” Sonja nods.

“Right,” says Dorn Wankerman. “But let’s go outside to gather. I need a stretch!”

Next Time: A shocking suprise at the Isle of Vuivui! Alcar has a very interesting commune! And worms!!


*One of Gerontius’ Chaos traits is an outrageous French accent.

 

[the Jester]

Vuivui is far away, well out of the range of even a single superior teleport. “We’ll have to jump there in stages,” Baron Lillamere advises. The group gathers around him and he intones the words of his spell; then their surroundings are different, just like that. They are on a windswept shoal, water pouring over their feet. Immediately Lillamere casts another superior teleport and the group blinks away. They do it again, and find themselves on an isle of broken rock.

A short distance away, in the surf, a huge crustacean covered in the corpses of dead sailors heaves itself ashore.

Puzzled, Lillamere says, “I would think we should be there by now.” He casts another superior teleport. Nothing happens. He looks around, eyes widening. The isle they are on is churned and blasted stone. He locks eyes with Syebe for a moment.

“They’ve destroyed it,” breathes Sybele. “The forces of Law have destroyed the isle of the Chaos guy!”

Sonja points at the crab, abashed at the party’s nonchalance. “There’s a monster coming!” he warns.

Almost as an afterthought, the party deals with the crab. It shoots barbs at them, but Sonja immediately proves his worth by using a reverse gravity spell to render it nigh-helpless, and then it’s just a few spells away from being slain. Then they take a closer look around. The isle they are on is essentially a pile of rubble. Gerontius and Inoke move some of it around, and what they find confirms their fears.

“Look under here,” Gerontius tells the others. “Beholder bits!”

Our heroes surmise that they have found the remains of some of the Isle of Vuivui’s three-headed beholder guardians. Sybele begins to tremble in anger. This makes me more inclined to strike the Bastion of Law! she thinks. Her pulse pounds with rage.

“Let’s see if the pool of Chaos is still around,” suggests Lillamere. “Maybe it will still work...”

But it doesn’t. The party finds it, but it is clear that the forces of Law have defiled it. Though a residual aura of Chaos lingers on it, the pool of Chaos from which many of the party members gained boons has been rendered inert.

“Let’s see what I can find out,” Alcar offers, and communes.

Is there a way to restore the Chaos portal?

There is no answer.

Who the hell am I talking to?

There is still no answer.

Alcar ends the spell. “Somebody’s mad at me,” he gripes.

“What do you mean?” Inoke asks. Alcar explains the results, and Inoke shakes his head. “You got Galador mad at you?”

“No,” Alcar replies with a sigh, “it’s the angels of Law. The bureacracy that handles most of this stuff.” He hesitates, then plunges on. “I think they have Galador imprisoned. At one point some years ago, while I was in Heaven, someone revealed to me that the true voice of Galador Himself had not been heard for quite some time.”

This gives our heroes something new to ponder. They return to Var and rest; it has been a long day.

***

8/11/371 O.L.G., 9:30 a.m., the Var annex of the Temple of Elemental Good

After eating a hearty breakfast, the Angel of Food attempts another commune.

Is there a way to reactivate the Chaos pool?
Does the Bastion of Law know we plan to attack?
Are you going to answer any of my questions?

At last, there is an answer: Maybe.

Is Belmondo on Var?
Are the forces of Law responsible for the attack on the Isle of Chaos?
Are the Bile Lords keeping an eye on us?

Frustrated, Alcar ends his spell. Pacing back and forth, he wonders, What question will they answer?

***

10:30 a.m., the Three Rubies, Var

“Before we go to attack the Bastion,” Gerontius states, “I want to make sure my people are okay. We should destroy the worm portal near them.”

“Last time we were in Sigil, I purchased some gloves that will let me seal a portal once per day,” Inoke reveals. “So it won’t even be that hard to do, once we defeat the guardians of the portal- whatever they are.”

Sybele says, “They’re usually either worms or slaadi.”

“It does sound like a worthy cause,” Chakar nods at Gerontius.

“The orcs aren’t going to stop attacking them, though,” Inoke opines. “Either the next warlord will keep trying to take them, or Prayzose will bring the one we killed back. We should see if they want to relocate, and take them all to Dorhaus!”

“What an interesting proposition,” Lillamere muses. “They could come to Brelana to live. I could use more subjects.”

“Why don’t we suggest it to them?” Gerontius smiles. “We can destroy the worms threatening them and try to warn off the warlord, and hopefully convince them to come to a safer place. I am fairly well known among them; they might listen to me.”

It can’t hurt to try it, the party agrees, and so they once again superior teleport to the Glen Lands, where the halflings live. They propose to one of the halfling Guv’nors that they come to Dorhaus with their people, and though the Guv’nor seems amenable to the idea, he also seems dubious as to whether his folk will want to leave their homes. “I’ll bring it up in parliament, though,” he promises.

Again the halflings cook a great feast for our heroes, impressing even Alcar with their cunning cuisine. The angel naturally creates food and drink, bringing an enormous number of fresh apple pies into being.

One of them is spotted and spoiled-looking.

“Somebody’s mad at me,” Alcar says quietly, removing the bad one from the stack.

Next Time: Worm attack! A message from Prayzose! And political complications!

 

[the Jester]

1 p.m., Shire Role, the Glen Lands

Chakar belches appreciatively. They may be frivolous, he sighs to himself, but halflings sure can cook! Indeed, the food is better here than he has ever consistently had. Between Alcar’s magical confections and the halfling cuisine, he figures he is eating better than any other dwarf ever has. He picks up another cracker smeared with spicey cheese and prepares to take a bite.

But, as peaceful a day as this cannot last. His reverie is interrupted by a cry from outside.

“WORMS!”

Our heroes spring up, disengaging from their gentle attempts at persuading the halflings to emigrate to Dorhaus. Worms! The cry sends a chill down our heroes’ spines. They have dealt with many worms since the giant Fnogghi Chaos-Hand invoked the Prophecy of the Worms, and they have many more to deal with before all is said and done. There are many portals to be destroyed or shut down or redirected, and until they can all be attended to, the worms that spew forth from them must be fended off. “We must defend my people!” cries Gerontius, and the party hurries outside, where they see a small group of halflings running towards shelter.

“Where are they?” demands Alcar, and one of the halflings waves wildly behind him before vanishing indoors. The cries of the locals ring out here and there as doors are shut and locked and windows are shuttered. Our heroes gaze in the indicated direction.

Worms.

The party springs into action, moving rapidly towards the oncoming worms. In but a few moments Lillamere has graced those who need it with fly spells, and our heroes speed through the air at the onrushing monsters. Looking down at them, the heroes see four immense worms dripping slime. They are the color of pale human flesh, and look disturbingly similar to it, even having small hair-like follicles that sprout from them. They are enormous, stretching out almost 60’.

Haven’t we seen these things before? wonders Sybele over the telepathic link, but nobody else recognizes them immediately.

Then the party is smashing into them. In just a few seconds, they deal telling blows to one of the worms. But, as Alcar’s fire storm burns into it, the worm splits in two!

“It’s dividing!” shouts Hyliss, casting far strike on his longsword.

The party pounds the worms for a few moments, but all they succeed in doing is worsening the odds. The worms divide and divide again; worse yet, their damage is healing very rapidly. In less than a minute, the party has gone from facing four opponents to facing ten humungous worms!

“This isn’t working too well,” comments Sonja. He blasts the worms with a fire storm. Flames seem to be the most effective weapon against the creatures, and our heroes rapidly switch tactics. Inoke backs off, having created several enemies in his initial charge, and Alcar and Sonja take the lead in dishing out flames to the enemies. Baron Lillamere shape changes into a red dragon and uses his scorching breath to burn some of the worm infestation away. Sybele manifests breath of the black dragon and gleefully ascertains that acid, too, will inflict real damage on the worms. To the party’s chagrin, Hyliss tries a chain lightning only to split another worm off. He curses vehemently, but by this time the party has turned the tide of what could have been a very ugly battle. Chakar manages to pin one of the last worms to the ground (!), and Sonja and Alcar, both of them out of fire storms, begin erecting walls of fire to finish the last couple of worms off. Sybele actually ends the battle when she vomits up another spray of acid, eating through the last fleshy worm.

“I know we’ve seen these things before,” Sybele grumbles, “but I can’t recall where!”*

“You see?” Gerontius rants. “We should close the worm gate nearest the Glen Lands. My people are not safe until we do!”

“You may be right,” Lillamere admits.

“Helping your folk is a worthy cause,” Chakar agrees.

“I’m all for it. It’s better than attacking the Bastion of Law.” Inoke shakes his head. “You guys are crazy for even thinking about doing that!”

Baron Lillamere sighs. “That’s a discussion for another time,” he says. “For now, it seems like we’re in agreement: we should take out this portal first.”

“I’m low on spells,” Alcar notes. “We should rest first.”

Sonja nods. “I agree. I’ve used up most of my fire spells. If we meet more of these things, we need to be prepared for them.”

“There might be slaadi at the gate instead,” Sybele says. “Or both.”

“So we rest, and then we attack ze worms!” Gerontius insists. The others see no real problem with this approach to the remainder of the day; after all, the halflings are most hospitable. Only Sybele and Dorn Wankerman have second thoughts, and only because of their large size. They will have to sleep outside- but both of them are hardy adventurers, used to far worse accomodations than the gentle grassy ground of the Glen Lands.

“It’s settled, then,” Inoke says.

***

8/12/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m.

The party is eating breakfast when the sending reaches Baron Lillmere. It is from Prayzose, Emperor of Forinthia and High Priest of the Light. It is a simple message, but one that complicates things immeasurably for our heroes.

The Warlord of Orokeuse is under my protection.

Lillamere swears aloud as he replies. The halflings are under our protection. It was never our intention to engage the high orc. We tried diplomacy; that failed. Let us talk.

“What’s wrong?” asks Chakar.

“Prayzose,” Lillamere answers, “is sending us a message...”

Another sending arrives just a moment later. Any other leader for them would be far worse. Leave well enough alone and do not destabilize things. Be mindful of the precedent you are setting.

Lillamere sighs and responds again. Prayzose, I respect you and will leave well enough alone- we all will. But I wish we could talk this out. I urge you to- Lillamere mutters to himself. He is out of words. Quickly he details the back and forth messages for the others.

Horbin says, “I think I’d better issue a sending of my own to the Bishop of Valonia. He probably isn’t very happy with... recent events here.” And he proceeds to do so: Our flocks have clashed. Halfligns are under my protection. Let us talk- work it out, before Prayzose if necessary.

A reply is almost instant. The warlord is the best choice of a bad bunch. He must be preserved, lest things grow even worse on Valonia.

Horbin frowns to himself and casts the spell again. No dispute with leadership. Halflings have right to live unmolested. Guide your orcs to higher light. When/where can we meet?

Again, the reply comes immediately. Orcs need much shepherding. We will meet three days hence at your confirmation hearings. We can discuss this then.

Horbin groans. “This whole affair may affect my chances of being appointed Bishop.”

Lillamere shakes his head. “Prayzose is behind you. I don’t think he’s going to let you fail- I imagine some of his prestige rides on your appointment.”

The cleric nods hesitantly. “I hope you’re right,” he replies.

Next Time: Judge Alito’s- er, I mean, Horbin the MFKG Holy’s- confirmation hearings! A messenger from the Warlord of Orokeuse! And the halfling worm portal!


*Any of you Gentle Readers pinpoint the earlier encounter in question?

 

[the Jester]

8/16/371 O.L.G., the Hall of the Bishops Elector, in the Cathedral of Fuzia, Dorhaus

Horbin looks around the chamber nervously. Baron Lillamere stands close by, here to give him moral support. There are many clergymen here, their vestments rustling as they discuss matters of theology or politics or both. Eyes keep turning towards Horbin as they converse. Many of them are hostile to him, including the dwarven Bishop of Valonia, whom Horbin’s companions recently killed (though he is back now). Many more of them are no doubt wary of Horbin, given his ecclesiastically liberal reputation. After all, Horbin is just a figurative inch away from being a heretic.

And yet High Priest (and Emperor) Prayzose has nominated him for the prestigious position of Bishop of West Dorhaus. Prayzose! Who would have thought that he would be backing me up, Horbin thinks in wonder, and then shakes his head to clear it. He will need all his wits for this; these men and women are free-willed, and probably strong-willed. They are, after all, the electors of the Church of the Light, and his confirmation hearings are about to begin. The people in the hall are slowly taking their seats, and the sounds of conversation are dying little by little.

“Don’t worry,” Baron Lillamere murmurs to Horbin in an attempt to reassure his friend. “I don’t think Prayzose would back you if he couldn’t get you confirmed.”

Horbin nods. He isn’t entirely certain whether he hopes Baron Lillamere is right or not... Bishop! He shakes his head. He certainly never would have expected such a high position back when he started his career. Hell, he never would have expected it at all, ever- he was never philosophically in line enough with his nominal superiors. Always, he has been on the fringes of acceptable theological theory. Yet here I am, he thinks. He shakes his head again in wonder. It seems unreal.

Some of his competition for the position is also present. Prime among them- and the next most likely candidate for Bishop- is one of Queen Moira’s cousins, Rethona. Maybe I should back out and let her take it, Horbin thinks wryly,giving her a quiet, polite greeting. Her reply, while not rude, is... subdued. Bishop Tarric of East Dorhaus studies him over a cup of wine, taking his measure. They have never met before, yet they might soon be... colleagues, of a sort. Usually the Bishoprics of West and East Dorhaus are, to some extent, rivals; but now, with Malford’s kingdom at war with the Tiger Empress, Horbin silently vows to work together with Bishop Tarric.

Soon- slowly- the hearings commence. There are a few short orations about Horbin’s fitness or unfitness to lead Western Dorhaus. Soon the questions come: questions about his beliefs, hard questions about Horbin’s attitudes towards (and, by inference, willingness to obey) superiors in the church. There are harangues about the party’s recent... indiscretions on Valonia.

Yet Horbin speaks well, persuasively arguing that his greatest interest is the good of the people of Dorhaus. He points out that he had no part in the attack on the orcs, instead trying to stop combat from breaking out at all. He exhorts the virtues of the Light and lays out in simple terms the good that he can do. He declares that even Dexter traveled in questionable company (witness Lochenvare and others) and that even the most dangerous person may come into the Light (witness Dexter Himself). He claims that he attempts to steer his companions, some of the most powerful men and women on all of Cydra, to do good. He provides them with moral guidance. Horbin’s words are logical, his tone is persuasive and his sincerity is apparent.

In the end, of course, there is a vote. Everyone except the Bishops Elector, a select group of powerful members of the clergy, retires from the hall. Outside, more than one person glares at Horbin, and more than one smiles at him too.

“You’re in,” Baron Lillamere predicts confidently.

Within the chamber, the electors debate fiercely. The dwarven Bishop of Valonia promises, “If you elect him, you elect trouble! Just look at the company he keeps!”

The Cardinal of Moire, a half-elf named Renderai, objects, “You can’t judge a man by the company he keeps.”

Another of the clergymen answers, “You must judge a man somehow.”

Cardinal Renderai says, “Yet Horbin makes a good point in his own defense. How much worse might his companions make things were he not there to moderate them?”

“Moral guidance,” nods Bishop Tarric. “There is something to what he says.”

“Do not forget,” rumbles the Valonian cleric, “he killed me. I cannot believe we are even considering electing him!”

“He did not kill you, my friend,” the Archbishop of Forinthia soothes, “his friends did. If he truly did not get involved in the battle, except to try to prevent it, I do not think we can fault him.”

“He did nothing to stop the slaughter! Nothing! They killed paladins! And they decided to kill the Warlord, who is the best thing we can possibly hope for from the orcs, without thinking about the repercussions!”

“They acted rashly, from ignorance,” nods the Bishop of Gorel. He scowls. “Horbin is careless. I hear he is given to drink. I don’t believe he can be trusted to behave with the appropriate discretion.”

The Archbishop of Forinthia looks pensive. “That would, inevitably, expose him to certain... sensitive information.” He frowns thoughtfully. “A rogue bishop of his power would be, ah, unsettling.” He shakes his head gravely. “I must counsel against his election. Rethona is a superior candidate, with no blemish of scandal or heterodoxy. I say we elect her.”

“Do not give up on Horbin so easily, my friends,” Renderai urges. “Look beyond the mistakes he has made. Rethona is strictly orthodox, but she is... unimaginative. She does not compell people. Horbin’s charisma, as well as his sheer power, make him a very attractive potential bishop.”

They argue for some time. In the end the vote is nearly tied. Horbin is confirmed over Rethona by a single vote.

***

8/18/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m., Brelana, Dorhaus

A message to the party, in care of Baron Lillamere, arrives via orcish mage. It is from the Warlord of Valonia.

Baron Lillamere,

We demand the return of our stolen gear as well as that of our murdered bodyguards. If you refuse we will take it as tantamount to an act of war, and we will demand satisfaction from your King.

Warlord of Orokeuse,
Ragash Zelgar

Chakar snorts in disgust. Our heroes openly scoff at the note, then promise the orcish wizard that they will back to the warlord soon. The orcish wizard is plainly not satisfied. He stalks off stiffly and teleports away.

“Give him back his stuff,” scoffs Alcar.

***

11 a.m.

“We have to deal with the Bastion of Law soon,” muses Lillamere.

“I think we should take care of the worm portal near my people on Valonia first,” Gerontius asserts. Inoke nods.

“There really isn’t much point in doing something half-way,” Chakar points out.

Baron Lillamere sighs. “The longer we give the forces of Law to prepare, the worse it will be for us. On the other hand, I can’t argue with helping Gerontius’ people first.”

“Yeah, it probably won’t take very long,” smirks Gerontius.

In less than half an hour they are all gathered, armed, and ready. Then a simple superior teleport takes them to where they need to go: the exit tunnel the worms that they had previously fought came out of. (They decide against teleporting directly to the portal, as it is likely to be heavily guarded.)

Down into the tunnels our heroes go, and soon enough they run into trouble in the form of a slaad as black as pitch. There is a brief, furious battle, but the frog-like outsider cannot withstand Gerontius’ skill with daggers.* It does demonstrate a deadly capability, however: its bite leaves a twisting, burning mass of Chaos on Alcar! The Chaos sizzles and pops as it eats away at the Angel of Food. Even after the slaad’s demise it continues, and Alcar groans and heals himself through the pain, and eventually the Chaos burns itself out. He looks at the others, shaken. “A few of those bites and you wouldn’t be worried about much of anything else!” he grumbles.

The party continues along the way until they tire of the winding tunnels and maze-like twists and turns. “Enough’s enough,” Lillamere declares. “We’re just going to get lost in here at this rate. I’m sure we can handle whatever is waiting for us.” He casts superior teleport and the party moves with much greater accuracy to their goal. In less than an instant, they are in a chamber whose only illumination comes from a flickering grey glow surrounding a portal. Another of the black slaadi, looming larger than the one that they faced before, and two huge stinking worms, crawling with other worms, dance and writhe in the chamber.

Almost immediately, one of the gargantuan worms belches out a spray of necromantic acid. It reminds Horbin strongly of Bile Mountain (-no, it’s Angelfire Mountain, he reminds himself) as the foul fluid saps the health of almost everyone.

The second worm vomits out a mass of needle-like things; it is only when the ‘needles’ assemble themselves into human skeletons that our heroes realize they are bones.

Our heroes burst into action.

The slaad proves magically potent, ruining Wankerman and attempting to implode Gerontius. But our heroes are incredibly powerful. Alcar’s mass heal brings the group back to full health and blows the skeletons apart, and then the party lays into their foes. Things get rocky when another two slaadi show up, answering the big one’s call; but our heroes manage to tear them apart.** Again, Gerontius’ lingering damage is key to defeating the slaadi. Even when the black one pronounces a word of Chaos, there is never much doubt. Inoke’s massive blows devastate the worm-things. Chakar even manages to leap momentarily upon one of the worms and grapple it – if only for an instant!

Alcar charges in on one of the worms, but it snatches him from the air and crushes him in its mouth. He groans and cries out as his blood and the necromantic acid drooling from the worm’s mouth smear his body. Chakar springs in to try to free him, but the worm smashes him away badly mauled. He slumps, unconscious and dying, to the ground.

Another mass heal, this one from Horbin, and Chakar is conscious. He rolls through an abundant step and out of danger, then regains his feet.

Flame strikes, destruction spells and worse blast out, back and forth. Our heroes pour out an incredible inferno of deadly magical energy, devastating their foes! It is only a few more moments before the worms and slaadi are finally defeated. Then our heroes take a moment to regain their wind.

“All right.” Inoke pulls on his gloves of seal portal. “I’ll finish this,” he says. With a touch, the chaos portal goes dormant, and he does.

Next Time: Lester and Orbius return! A note, delivered by arrow! What’s the best way to keep track of a party that’s constantly mind blanked? And- Bile Mountain??

*Gerontius has the Lingering Damage epic feat and was sneak attacking the slaad about 3-6 times per round. That means 3-6 times that the slaad takes sneak attack damage again the next round.

**A black slaad and two advanced ulgustastra = EL 27. Granted, the party is big, but... damn, they tore this up! It was a seven-round fight though- pretty long for combat at this level.

 

[the Jester]

1 p.m., the Temple of Elemental Good

Lunch at the Temple of Elemental Good: fresh from the gardens, with the meat of some large birds native to the Bendrock Mountains as the centerpiece. Delicious as always, but perhaps inferior to that served by the halflings of Valonia. Nonetheless, it is more than satisfactory- and, of course, it is good to see Lester and Orbius.

“...yes, administrating the Temple takes a lot of Lester’s time,” Orbius finishes, and the Eye of Boccob takes another sip of his wine. He usually speaks for Lester when they are speaking aloud, as Lester must rhyme. However, amongst the party (excepting Sonja), Lester (also called the L or the Angel of Adventure) can communicate telepathically over the permanent Rary’s interplanar telepathic bond that the group shares.

“I like your new hair style,” Sybele compliments Lester.

He now sports corn rows instead of his more traditional afro. He grins his thanks and sends telepathically, Thanks! Yeah, afros are really lawful.

The party is enjoying the companionship of their old friends. They step outside and begin to amble along, filling the L and the Eye in on their recent activities and their current plans. After a few disjointed moments talking about their recent conflict with the orcs, Sybele segues into their plans for the near future. “We’re going to go attack that place where Law has its big fortress and stuff,” she tells them.*

“The Bastion of Law,” Gerontius fills in.

The Bastion! Screw that! We should just stay out of the whole Great War of Ethics thing completely. Let’s go attack the folks warring to become the new Prince of Elemental Evil Fire instead, Lester suggests.

“That sounds good,” Inoke agrees. “We certainly shouldn’t-” he switches to the telepathic link- [/i]attack the Bastion, and I am not going to. Also, we shouldn’t talk about this out loud.[/i]**

As the party begins to walk amongst a small grove of apple trees, heading in the general direction of the Temple of Elemental Good Water, Gerontius sends over the telepathic link, You know, Lester, the forces of Law destroyed the Isle of Vuivui.

But Lester replies, So what? Chaos will just have a new one somewhere. It’s probably a good thing, even; the Isle of Vuivui had been there for a long time. It was getting kind of Lawful. He grins and winks.

“Well, didn’t you-” swear an oath to Chaos at the Isle of Vuivui that you’d try to overthrow the Bastion? Baron Lillamere asks.

Yeah, but c’mon, they’re Chaotic. And so am I. Lester’s swarthy face erupts in a grin again. What are they going to do, sue me? The irony is heavy in his mental tone.

“I swore an oath, and I’m keeping it,” Lillamere insists. “You should too.”

Orbius shrugs. “But did you swear when you would do it?”

Lillamere retorts, “We can’t give them time to plan.” This is Law. If they have time to plan for us, it will be much harder. We have to hit them hard and fast, when they don’t expect us to, if we’re going to overthrow the Bastion. Law excells at planning. If we wait too long, they will be utterly ready for us!

There’s another thing, Sybele sends. She hesitates, then adds, I don’t want big bad warmind guy to fight us on this.

“Me?” Inoke exclaims.

“Yeah,” she answers. I mean, you’re Lawful now and all... and I don’t want to fight you.

I already said I won’t fight you guys. I won’t help you storm the Bastion- and I think you’re making a terrible mistake- but you’re my friends. I won’t fight against you. But maybe we can do something else first? Maybe we could do this thing Lester’s talking about with the would-be new Elemental Prince, or go back into Bile Mountain, or-

Then an arrow zips out and hits the tree next to Sybele with a meaty thunk! It sinks deep into the tree, vibrating for a moment as it spends its momentum.

“What the hell?” Sybele wonders.

There appears to be a note attached.

She plucks the arrow from the tree (not without some difficulty). She unfastens the note from the shaft and reads it. “Oh no,” Sybele says, her eyes going wide. “It’s the leshay.”

“The leshay?” asks Chakar.

“It’s kind of an uber-fey. We were at a fey party and I got really drunk and puked on him.”

“What does he say?” asks Gerontius, cocking an eyebrow in interest.

“He’s hunting me,” Sybele replies unhappily.

The group surveys the hillside. There is a fair amount of shrubbery and small trees that could conceal an archer.

“That’s not too wise,” Lester comments. “I mean, didn’t we kill Asmodeus not too long ago?”

“Oh, man,” moans Sybele.

“Maybe we can talk to him,” suggests Baron Lillamere.

Then the leshay pops up from behind a rock, bow in hand.

Instantly, Orbius casts time stop. He grins to himself as he casts spell turning to protect himself, then summons forth a sphere of ultimate destruction. He then uses his mastery of shaping to summon a dome of force over the leshay, hoping to trap it. Then...

The leshay teleports out from under the dome and launches a single arrow at Sybele, hitting her in the chest. “Argh!” She staggers back, but Orbius is already in action again, using his quickening rod to instantly mass teleport the party to next to the leshay. Then he casts another time stop and fires off a succession of spells to prepare:[/i]greater invisibility, Orbius’ eldritch penetrations, Marius’ double actions[/i] and summon monster to bring forth a massive fire elemental.

But as time starts to move again, the leshay teleports away again with a mocking bow.

The party alertly surveys the area, looking for any signs of the leshay (or, frankly, any of their other enemies). After a few tense moments, they become convinced that the fey is no longer present.

“He’ll be back,” Sybele groans. “I’m sure of it.”

“Like we didn’t have enough trouble already,” grumbles Lillamere.

Next Time: Orbius does some divining! Chakar looks for the Perfect Masters! And our heroes decide that it’s time to go back to Bile Mountain at last!

*Sybele, you will recall, cannot remember names.

**Our group, having the telepathic bond, uses a convention where you touch your forehead to indicate that you’re using your link. Often people start off out loud and then switch to telepathy. It must be odd to witness a group conversing like this!

 

[the Jester]

Immediately after the Leshay teleports away for the secoond time, the party scouts out the surrounding area to make sure that the powerful fey did indeed retreat. The party does not see the Leshay, but some notice a diminutive humanoid figure watching them near to where the Leshay was.

The first to act is Gerontius who meanders over to where the Leshay was, exclaiming "I sink I zee a bag, which he may ave dropped. Perhaps there is zomezing of value in iit." Gerontius, however, saw no such bag; it was merely a ruse to keep the little fellow off his guard. As Gerontius approaches near to where the diminutive fellow is he bursts into action and grabs him up faster than the eye can see.

The little fellow is obviously quite surprised by the sudden turn of events, perhaps because he was noticed when he is so often overlooked by bigger folk, perhaps because he never saw the hand that grabbed him till he was in its clutches, or perhaps because he knows he is caught. Gerontius looks at the little fellow, who turns out to be a grass faerie, with a smile from ear to ear and with a chortle asks "vhat do ve ave ere?" The little fellow asks Gerontius in Halfling "Hey, put me down. What are you guys doing out here anyway?" Gerontius retorts "I might ask you the same." Inoke is much more blunt about his apprach and says "There was a Leshay here a few moments ago, what do you know about it." The little fey fellow has a palpable bead of sweat on his brow as he replies "The only people who are or were here is us. Why would a Leshay be interested in you anyway? I don't know any Leshay, but if I did and it were me I would not want to anger one, otherwise I would be liable to get hunted." Sybele asks the grass faerie what he knows of the hunt and learns that the hunted must survive a quiver full of arrows, then over the telepathic link she chimes in, 1 down 19 to go. She then tells the faerie she's being hunted for an incident at the Fey Party, the grass faerie replies that that is common knowledge amongst Fey.

Gerontius meanwhile gets the impression that the faerie is lying about not knowing the Leshay and accuses the faerie of spying on them. Before the faerie can respond, Gerontius offers him a ticket to view the hunt as it unfolds, to which the Faerie accepts. Gerontius, with a devious smile, says you get a free trip inside Sybele's shirt pocket. The Faerie however does not to want to be that close to the hunt, so Gerontius offers him an alternative "...zat you do not spy on us, nor cauze any more mizchief, well mizchief directed at us anyway." The faerie accepts the alternative, and warns the party that he is not the only Fey assisting the Leshay on the hunt. Sybele then asks to hold the Faerie to which she promptly flicks off the palm of her hand.


Next Time: More fey spies! The Arrows of Law discuss Asmodeus' replacement! And Chakar begins his search for the Perfect Masters!

 

[Sandain]

Deja vu? I am sure this exact same thing happened a few months ago .

 

[the Jester]

Deja vu? I am sure this exact same thing happened a few months ago .

Yeah- I'm reposting the updates that were lost when the boards crashed a few weeks ago. You may note that most of the reposts have significant editing and, in some cases, expanded scenes (or new scenes entirely!)

 

[the Jester]

Deciding What to Do

8/8/371, 10 p.m., Pesh City

Within a large vaulted chamber dominated by a massive table of stone chased with copper they meet. “Ah, Prayzose.” Marius the Chronomancer smiles as the Emperor of Forinthia makes his entrance and takes a seat. Emperor Prayzose nods back to him. “How did it go?”

“He agreed,” Prayzose says with a smile. “We will have our seventh Arrow soon.”

“In forty-nine days.”

“In forty-nine days,” Prayzose agrees.

Dekrasode sneers. “Cleverly done, o Emperor. You have shifted the balance among us. Now you will have a companion in goodness amongst our number.”

“There should be a certain level of balance,” Lord Alyth of Fendobarz points out. “As it was, evil was strongly represented, while good was only...” He gestures at Prayzose. “Now, with this new addition, there will be two good Arrows. Until the death of Asmodeus, it was three to one evil to good. I approve.”

Dekrasode sneers again, but Emperor Prayzose only nods. “The balance is improved. Our forces cannot win a permanent victory without a certain level of equity between good and evil.” But the Emperor frowns in distaste as he says this.

“Though pure Law is most important,” declares Alyth. Marius nods agreement.

“Yet until he is installed, we remain vulnerable.” Prayzose frowns. “And we know that Lester and Sybele and their friends seek the Bastion’s overthrow. We must be fastidious in our defense of it.”

“Cluma maintains the guard even now,” Dekrasode declares. “Yet are you certain our would-be seventh Arrow is not setting us up for a fall? Is he truly sincere about joining us? I know you can be persuasive, yet I find it hard to believe that he would work with us... and he is in a fantastic position from which to betray us.” The dragon’s voice is droll.

“Harder to believe than that I would work with you?” Prayzose asks ironically. “Yes, I am sure of his sincerity. I simply pointed out the issues of balance that we have been discussing amongst ourselves. He can see which way the wind is blowing, and he has no desire to see Law and Evil triumph over the multiverse. Law, yes; Evil, no. And his presence will aid us in bringing a balanced reign to things.”

“Forty-nine days,” muses Marius. “I wish I could speed up the framework...”

“The rules must be obeyed,” Lord Alyth states firmly. “It is impossible to manipulate this time frame. You know as well as I that attempting to cheat the rules will poison our own ethos.”

Marius sighs. “I know. Yet, for now, we remain vulnerable.”

“We must remain vigilant as well, and all will be well,” Emperor Prayzose says. The other Arrows gathered nod. “And I believe that, if it comes to that, a determined defense by us would undo them.”

“Remember too,” Lord Alyth points out, “that any damage done to our fortifications will be repaired as if the battlements were new each dawn.” The others nod, considering.

“Well,” Dekrasode says after a moment, “I must be off. There is work to be done.” With a glint of teeth, he adds, “I will be moving on Khelm very soon. Their careful neutrality in the Great War cannot be maintained. All places must take sides.”

Prayzose nods with a sigh. “Absolutely. But try to be gentle. Give them a chance, and a clear understanding of the consequences, and they may come over to us.”

Dekrasode laughs harshly. “Oh, have no fear- I will follow all of the proper forms.”

***

8/18/371 O.L.G., 5 p.m., Sigil

The party has arrived, once again, in the City of Doors. The strange, unnatural environment sets Sonja on edge. There is no soil anywhere; all the building materials, a haphazard mix of wood, stone and odder stuff, have been imported from other planes. As the group moves along the streets, heading towards the market- where they plan to sell the equipment taken from the Warlord of Orokeuse and his bodyguards. Despite the orcs’ warning to return it and their veiled threat to make war on Malford, the party plands to head straight for the marketplace after a quick trip to the Eyebrary. Baron Lillamere still has misgivings about selling the orcish gear, but....

“Psst!”

A small figure, colored like the surrounding plaster, stucco and mortar, trots up beside Sybele. It has big eyes and is small of stature. “Hey, for a thousand gold, I can tell you something that you need to know,” it says to her.

The constrast in their stature is comical. Sybele, after all, stands about 9’ high. The little creature is only halflway up to her knee. “Are you a fey?” she asks. The figure only grins. With a sigh, she passes over the little extortionist’s payment.

“You’re being hunted,” the creature chuckles promptly.

“I know that,” Sybele replies, rolling her eyes.

“Well, the hunter has a lot of eyes on you.” He winks at her. “We’re everywhere, you know.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, puzzled. She scratches her head.

“Do you mean that the fey are watching her?” Baron Lillamere asks grimly.

“Some of us,” the urban faerie nods. “A lot of us. You know, if a leshay asks one of us for a favor, we give it some serious thought. It’s awful nice to have a leshay owe you one, and it’s a pretty bad thing to incur their wrath.” He winks at Sybele and grins. The smile almost seems bigger than his face. She grins back.

“Are you watching me?” she asks.

“Nah, not personally- but there are plenty of us here that are.” He giggles. “Even here, we’re everywhere.”

“What kind of fey folk dwell in a place with no nature?” Gerontius snorts.

“House faeries, and fey of the forge, and so forth and so on,” the little thing pipes up indignantly in response. “Why, there are all sorts or urban fey!”

Meanwhile, Sybele muses to herself, I think I need to provide him with a good hunt. She projects it across the party’s telepathic link.

Or we could just kill the leshay, Lester replies.

I think that would be harder to do than you think, Sybele retorts mentally. We would just make more enemies of the fey, and we don’t want that! Besides, everyone at that party seemed to think this guy was a bad guy to piss off. He’s probably pretty tough. And... it kind of sounds like fun: I need to be an entertaining hunt, make it a lot of fun for him so he doesn’t want to end the hunt.

“Hmph,” snorts Alcar with a shake of his head.

I need to arrange to meet with him, and to run, Sybele explains.

***

At the Library of Boccob, our heroes consult with the Eye of Boccob (whom our heroes call the Eyebrarian, for in place of a head he has a single great eyeball). He warns them, “I believe the forces of Law have chosen their new Arrow.” He tells them that, by ancient cosmic Law, there must be a forty-nine day ritual wait (“seven times seven days”), but that once the new Arrow is appointed, the Bastion of Law will be much strengthened. As long as the ranks of the Arrows of Law are not at their full measure of seven, the Bastion becomes vulnerable.

“We need to get on it,” says Lillamere.

Chakar, meanwhile, seeks information about a group of monks he has heard about called the Perfect Masters. They are said to have transcended their mortal limitations, and learns that there is a Perfect Master named Pan Lo in Sigil somewhere. While the others make ready to hit the marketplace, he tavels through the streets until he finds an address that he was given, which proves to be a dojo. Two young monks guard the entrance.*

“Hello, stranger,” one of them says to him.

“Hello,” Chakar says. “I seek a master named Pan Lo.”

The two monks exchange a glance. “Pan Lo has been here, and has taught our sensei much,” one says. “But you may only enter if you fight me.”

The battle is over in seconds. Chakar’s mastery of martial arts is so great that the door guard never has a chance; almost casually, the dwarven monk pins him. When he lets the man back up, he is admitted to the dojo without further ado. Inside, he meets the dojo’s sensei, who informs him that Pan Lo is no longer there; he has come and gone. He tells Chakar, “Perfect Master Pan Lo has moved on.”

“Do you know where he went?” Chakar asks, masking his disappointment.

“Yes. He went to Avernus, the First Hell, to meet with an infernal monk called Master Scar.”

Chakar departs for the Eyebrary, musing over what he has learned. Hell is not friendly to myself or my companions, he thinks.

***

Meanwhile, back at the Eyebrary, Alcar attempts a commune. He considers carefully, and then begins his questioning.

Do I have the Heavens’ blessings in my quest to overthrow Bile Mountain? Yes.

His heart leaps. An answer! It seems that the celestial powers will give him certain answers. Hoping, he continues:

Do the Bile Lords have a weakness?

There is no answer. Grumbling, he ends the spell. Somebody’s mad at me, he tells himself again, glumly.

Orbius, too, does some divining. All his attempts to ferret out information about Bile Mountain or the Bile Lords end in failure, although he does learn that Boccob is an entity that could unlock the mountain. A few other lines of questioning are more fruitful, and his contact other plane yields a few useful tidbits.

What will it take for the halflings of Valonia to agree to temporarily relocate? Lots of wine.
How many arrows does the leshay have left in the quiver it is using to hunt Sybele? Ten.
Is the balance of the universe tipping in favor of Law or Chaos? Law.
Will destroying the Bastion of Law bring it into balance or swing it towards Chaos? Both.
Which of the Arrows are aware of our movements? None.
Where is the true Arion? Gutter. (This one makes Orbius laugh, as he reflects that his guess would have been a bar.)
What are our odds of success in Bile Mountain? Poor.
What are our chances of taking out the Bastion of Law? Fair.
How long until the next Arrow of Law is appointed? 39 days.
When can we attack the Bastion with only evil Arrows there? Unlikely.

***

8/19/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m., Sigil

Breakfast is... interesting. Many eyes are on our heroes; when they killed Asmodeus, they made quite a name for themselves. Most of their conversation is telepathic. What to do, what to do? Chakar brings up his desire to follow Pan Lo, but the others point out that they are wanted in Hell (especially after their indiscretions with gambling and divination spells). Reluctantly, Chakar agrees to wait to seek out the Perfect Master, at least for a time. (Little does he know that the monks he met are already sending word of his visit to Pan Lo.)

Despite the Eye’s divinations, Lester wants to attack Bile Mountain. Lillamere argues strongly for the Bastion of Law. The party debates for hours before finally reaching a compromise. They will attack Bile Mountain for two weeks before switching to an assault on the Bastion.**

“All right, then!” Inoke says happily. I’ll help against Bile Mountain for as long as you guys want to go against it.

Then let’s go! cries the Lester telepathically. They don’t call me the Angel of Adventure for nothing.

Next Time: Our heroes begin their Revenge on Bile Mountain!

*Please imagine this scene with bad dubbing. I made a point of describing the monks as having poorly-dubbed dialogue to the players, so it’s only fair that I clue the readers in.

**Remember, a Cydran week is 9 days. According to Orbius, this leaves them 20 days to deal with the Bastion. This compromise was reached out of game after about 2 weeks of debate and planning among the players. I was not privy to said planning and debate, and the fact that my players were so passionate about this whole thing makes me think I must be doing something right as a dm.

 

[the Jester]

When they appear near the base of the mountain, those of our heroes who have been here before- and (except Lester and Orbius) died here before- shudder. They cannot help it. The memory of abject defeat burns within them. They are here to take revenge for their defeat. They have picked up Thrush to go with them; the self-proclaimed preeminent swordsman of his age is eager to regain his father’s sword. Sybele bites her lip, thinking of the sword that Fandral the dwarven mage-smith crafted for her. He has demanded that she regain it before seeking his aid again. The others ponder various bits of lost gear, wounded pride. Well, with any luck, this will begin the process of salving those wounds, recovering those losses.

The mountain is large and ominous. When last they forayed here, they faced a worm-like crystalline creature that had a prismatic aura. Now there are no visible external guardians. A river runs into the gut of the mountain. Once, it somehow turned to bile within the bowels of the place, and the River of Bile flowed from the hole out the other side of the mountain. But in their first series of adventures here, our heroes destroyed the Crux Crystal that had powered much of the epic magic surrounding the mountain. Now the river exits the mountain in the same form as it enters, as water.

Silently, our heroes regard the mountain for a few moments, steeling themselves for the trials to come.

“Angelfire is probably in there somewhere,” Horbin mentions.

Alcar is transfixed with anger for a moment at the mention of Angelfire- once a member of the party, missing since their death in Bile Mountain. Now... now, who can say what piece of him they might find within? Who can say what state he shall prove to be in? Will he be a festering corpse, or some terrible undead form?

Alongside the river there is a solid path. The party follows it into the great central cave beneath the mountain’s heart. The cave is huge, hundreds of feet across. Most of it is filled with a pool of water. Once, the place had been full of bile instead. It still brings a certain pride to those of our heroes who were here before to see it clear and clean instead. A stairway hewn from the side of the cave leads up to the ceiling, where a hole leads up into the dungeons of the mountain. Our heroes begin flying up parallel to the stair. A tremor of fear runs through several of them.

When they were here before, on their first foray into the mountain, when they destroyed the Crux Crystal they also freed the Bile Lords from a long sequestering in the mountain. And the Bile Lords burned for vengeance on our heroes, sending minions and even one of themselves to destroy them. Our heroes returned to Bile Mountain to finish what they had begun and destroy the Bile Lords.

But things had been more complicated than our heroes could have imagined. When they had destroyed the Crux Crystal, they had uncovered a portal that the Crystal had grown around, much as a pearl will grow around a grain of sand. This portal led to a terrible realm that was the dominion of the horrific Bile King, whom the Bile Lords were ruled by. But the Bile King was uninterested in our heroes; he only cared about finding a suitable wife. In a murderous courtship he and the Queen of Guts came together in unholy union.

Our heroes, meanwhile, fought their way up through the remaining minions that they had not decimated before. When they found the chamber the Crux Crystal had been in, they discovered the portal. And then, in the crucial moment, Angelfire went through the portal. Horbin followed him in the desperate hope of stopping him from doing anything stupid, and they found themselves in a terrible combat. Meanwhile, the others rushed to a nearby bile pool (the portal key was apparently bile) and aroused a hideous, multiheaded corrupted bile chuul. The monstrosity belched an explosion of bile that slew most of the party in a single agonizing moment. By the time Horbin and Angelfire returned through the portal, all of their companions were dead. They managed to defeat the chuul, but then an assault came from the portal- in the form of Bile Lords and the Queen’s gutling giant servants- and despite their power, they could not fend the assault off. It overwhelmed them. Horbin was killed; Angelfire was charmed, taken alive and slain by the Queen of Guts- and thus the entire party had been destroyed. That would have been the end, had it not been for Ten Buck Tom’s possession of an elixir of true resurrection that permitted Horbin to return from the dead, and he then made a deal with the Delphinate to get the necessary amount of diamond dust to bring the others back to life. The entire group had been thoroughly humbled. Angelfire, notably, had not returned; Horbin grimly suspected that he had been turned undead.

The party had turned away from thoughts of Bile Mountain for a time, humbled by their defeat. They had turned to other things- things even bigger, really. But for a time, they had not felt ready to face Bile Mountain again.

Now- now, at last, they are ready.

At the top of the stairway is a chamber with several exits. When the party enters, they find themselves immediately attacked by a quartet of strange, cockroach-like creatures. These monsters spit goo, hoping to entangle our heroes, but almost everyone wears a ring of freedom of movement or is otherwise affected by the spell. The goo fails to have much effect on the group, though Horbin does have a few dodgy moments for a while. But that is not the only attack that the bugs have. Their mere touch drains life energy and strength. Our heroes begin to flag, while Alcar and Horbin make the occasional counter with restoration magic.

Our heroes reply to the foul roach-like things with a terrific array of flame strikes, horrid wiltings, disintegrates (including one that Lillamere maximizes) and old-fashioned ass-kicking. Gerontius tumbles past the bugs into a hallway, looking for a good flanking position- and to his surprise he is almost immediately beset by a hideous gorgon sweating bile out of its pores! The beast bellows and breathes out a billowing mass of foul-colored vapors. The halfling throws himself flat, dodging the effect, but Sybele turns, saying, “What’s that...?” She gasps, inhaling a massive dose of the petrifying gas, and says no more as she turns to stone.

“Sybele!” Thrush cries.

Horbin turns to the gorgon. He utters a prayer to Dexter and pronounces a destruction upon the monster. It dies in a burst of golden-red flame, crumbling to the ground as ashes!

The tide of battle has turned for our heroes. The roach-things, though tough, are withering under the party’s collective attacks. A few moments later and they are done for. Our heroes, however, are somewhat shaken. “Those things were tough!” declares Horbin.

“And they’re just the door guards,” points out Sybele.

“I believe they are called thorciasids,” Orbius says sagely. “They are energy scavengers.”

Well, folks, we’re in the foyer, Lester things over the telepathic link. Shall we go on in?

If Alcar and Horbin can restore everyone to their normal state, Chakar qualifies.*

No problem, Alcar assures him. He and Horbin begin tending to the needs of their companions, their prayers channeling holy power that floods into the weakened and slowed muscles of the rest of the party. In a few moments, everyone is at least mostly restored. Meanwhile, Baron Lillamere has already sent out prying eyes to explore the surrounding area. He informs the others telepathically, over the link, as the eyes begin to spread out through the passages of the mountain.

“Then let’s get to it,” Thrush says with grim pleasure. And he draws his sword.

Next Time: Our heroes begin to move deeper into Bile Mountain! Lillamere’s eyes see eyes floating around! And our heroes discover a new type of ooze!

*Thorciasids do ability drain to three attributes, up to 2/round! Ouch!