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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 2107533" data-attributes="member: 1210">The Black Confessional9/5/370 O.L.G., 5:30 p.m., the Halls of Light, ForinthiaPrayzose, Emperor of the Forinthian Empire, High Priest of the Church of the Light, sighs as he sips at his wine.  It is well-watered; he needs his wits about him now more than at any other time.  He takes another bite of his kocho haunch.  It’s delicious- cooked just right, done in the style of the North Kingdom.  Bitterly, his mouth twists.  He is fairly certain that he is the most powerful human on Cydra, yet he cannot win by force here.  He could take what he wants by virtue of his powers of persuasion alone, and it would certainly be expedient; but to do so would betray his principles.  He cannot do that, not for anything.  Not even for Forinthia.  The Three Kingdoms were unified long centuries ago.  But the sword that had sealed the pact of unification had been stolen from the crypt of the last king of South Forinthia.  A curse had fallen on the Three Kingdoms, and usurpers have arisen to shatter the unity of the center of all things.  Until the sword can be recovered, there is no legal basis for Prayzose’s authority over the island- or the Three Kingdoms- of Forinthia.  The rest of the far-flung Empire, certainly; and certainly Prayzose possesses the might to enforce his will... It would be unlawful to do so.He chews his food mechanically, barely noting the taste.  It’s a shame; the meal is really quite exceptional.  But the... situation... preys on his mind.  It has for months.  The sword, he thinks.  So it is that he is here, mired in interminable negotiations with the Three Kings- all legitimately sprung from their royal lines, too, or things would be easier.  Prayzose knows the answer is the sword, of course; but it cannot easily be found.  Divinations seem incapable of piercing the veil around it.  Wherever it is, whoever took it, they dealt a great blow to the forces of Law.  The Emperor sighs.  He has many, many agents looking for it.  Some of his best.  They will find it eventually- he has to believe that.  ***At the bottom of the Stinking Pit of BlendoragThe dark cathedral our heroes are grimly exploring is arranged as a left-to-right mirror of a cathedral to Galador.  It is a mockery.  There is a room devoted to icons of Dexter reversed, and with images of his old foe Farenth everywhere.*  Horbin splutters in indignation at every turn.  Our heroes find the back sides of two confessional booths, where the priest would sit, but there is no entrance on the other side.“Interesting,” murmurs Lillamere.  “Then what’s on the other side?”Investigation reveals, to Horbin’s utter horror, that the confession booth opens up in a church of Galador on Valonia.  “This is obscene!” he cries.  “Blasphemous!  We should get their high priest, right now!  We need to destroy this!”“Horbin,” Lillamere interjects, “think for a second.  What does this imply?  There’s a spy, or a traitor.  We should set a trap and see who we catch.”Horbin stares at him and slowly nods.  “You’re right.  Tomorrow is Godsday.  If we’re lucky, he’ll confess then, and we can catch him out.”“If Veil were here, she could help read his mind,” Lillamere sighs. “Well, maybe we can get her out,” suggests Inoke.”We aren’t attacking the Delphinate!” exclaims Horbin.“Maybe we can negotiate her out,” Inoke responds.  “I was’t talking about attacking them.”“It’s pretty early,” Horbin declares.  “I guess we have a few hours.”  The group greater teleports to the strange landing pads that Proto always teleports them too.  They are allowed in after a few tense moments, and their skill at negotiations allow them to retrieve Veil but not Rex.  “You  will not return here,” the Delphinites warn Veil sternly.  “No problem,” the doppelganger replies tartly.***9 p.m., Var[/b]“I’m sorry, the King is unavailable.”Horbin says, “Listen, I’m Horbin the MFKG Holy, and the King and I are personal friends.  Now, I am sure he would appreciate it if you would let him know that a group of his companions, including myself, are seeking an audience.”“Unfortunately,” the majordomo repeats, “the King is unavailable.”Horbin heaves a sigh.  “How many times do we have to go through this song and dance before you’ll let us arrange to meet with Malford?” he exclaims.  “Look-““How about the Queen?” interrupts Lillamere.  His handsome, Drelvin-like features are especially pleasant when he smiles.  “Could we arrange an appointment with her?”The majordomo says, “I will check,” and walks out.As soon as he is out of the room, Veil says, “I don’t think Malford’s here.  The majordomo hasn’t seen him in about a week.”“I wonder why he won’t just tell us that,” muses Lillamere.A few minutes later the majordomo returns.  “Queen Moira will see you for breakfast at 8 in the morning,” he announces.“Thank you very much.”  Lillamere slips the man a coin.  As our heroes leave, Horbin comments, “I can’t meet with her.  I’m going to be in that black cathedral early.  I don’t want to miss whatever comes to it.  With luck I’ll catch whatever comes to take the ‘confession,’ too.”  He smiles grimly.  “We should all be there, in case it’s something really bad,” comments Inoke.  “Can we reschedule our appointment?”“You don’t reschedule appointments with the Queen!” Horbin exclaims.  “No, we’ll send Ten Buck Tom.”Fair enough.  Ten Buck Tom is completely shocked when he meets Lillamere- he looks like a handsome Drelvin.  After he overcomes his shock, he happily agrees to visit the Queen for them in the morning and to fill her in on their current activities and concerns.  Worms, devils, who what else!  Times are crazy indeed. And our heroes go to watch over the black confessional below the Stinking Pit. ***9/6/370 O.L.G., 6 a.m., the dark cathedral The distant ringing of church bells from the other side of the confessional is the first promising sign of the day.  Exchanging a glance, our heroes nod to themselves.  They’re going fishing!Veil hides in the confession booth.  The rest of our heroes array themselves outside and wait.  They don’t have to wait long- after only about an hour, the confession booth admits a figure, hard to see through the grating.  “Bless me father, for I have sinned,” murmurs a voice.Veil nods to the others and thinks to them (through Sybele’s psicrystal) He’s our man.  Her mind-reading powers have proven themselves useful today.  Horbin steps up.  “What do you have to confess today?” he asks, his voice low.The voice starts a litany of blasphemy and evil.  Horbin casts dominate person and the voice chokes off at his telepathic command.”I’m a little concerned for your soul,” Horbin begins.***The party brings Pandos, the traitor, named for Dexter’s Warden, to their side of the booth.  Horbin berates him with tales of his fate in the afterlife as a servant of evil, and reproaches him for his choices.  “It’s never too late to change,” he urges.  “You could atone despite your willfulness- I would bear the burden, if you chose to do so.”Pandos hesitates for hours, until finally, that evening, he agrees.  Horbin the Holy casts an atonement, and together they shatter the ring he wears to signify the deal he made with the devil of the pit.  Then the party returns him to Valonia, shows the passage to the black cathedral to the Valonian church’s high priest, and returns to Var.  “Whew!” comments Inoke.  “That was a pretty full day, and we didn’t even kill anything.”***11 p.m., Var Proto watches the sleeping party members and ponders their progress.  The attack on the Bastion of Law proved ineffective and, even worse, exposed them to the agents of Law that control it.  The degree of risk for their next mission will be substantially increased.  Yet, with such a pivotal territory in their sights, the Agents of Chaos do not act.  They are so easily sidetracked . . . Thousands of scripts, routines, and files penetrate Proto’s consciousness.  Within a few moments nearly all of the party’s recent adventures flash before him and he attempts to connect the dots that underlie the motivations for their actions.The results are incomprehensible to a mind lesser than his.  The overarching goals of these companions are completely obvious to him, yet the way and order that these humanoids partake of them seems to change with the wind.  Their missions often result out of circumstance and influence; they rarely set the agenda in a lasting way.  True, they have triumphed in several extended conflicts that threatened them directly.  It is the threat, it seems, that binds them.  Otherwise, their actions often lack an overall unified purpose and individual’s own priorities are accomplished based on their ability to influence their companions.  I must unify them, he thinks, and make them acknowledge the true threat of Law.He issues a Sending to Captain Rabin in the Delphinate.(Proto):  Party is slow to return to the Bastion of Law and difficult to motivate.  Requesting assistance in understanding their motivations and thought patterns.(Captain Rabin):  They are a force unto themselves.  Help them with your full capabilities and direct them against mutual enemies as possible.  Consult Prime Directives as needed.He opens this file and begins to recite them mentally:A memory file interrupts him before he can repeat his directives.  He cannot tell if it is an error in his programming are a hard-wired script, as it happens seemingly every time he reviews them. . . He sees nothing up white light, but feels the very essence of life flowing through him.  It is invigorating beyond description, bordering on ecstasy.  All around him are others; minds like this, and part of his, yet completely separate from him.  They, too, hum with life and expectation of what is to come next.  At many points during his countless days in the Forge has he felt a mind separate and leave.  More often than not, a brief glimpse of an emotion he interprets as sorrow washed over him and the other minds.  Somehow, he knows that these departed minds are forever gone.He feels a tug at his own mind and knows that his turn has come.  The dead weight of fate hangs over him as his consciousness is pulled away.  Then, there is nothing . . .Now he is sitting in a large stone chair and he opens his eyes for the first time.  His sight is overwhelming and the limits of his vision are tested as he takes it all in.  Yet, he knows the names of the creatures and articles that surround him as if they had been with him forever.  He is in a Delphinate laboratory with two engineers flanking him.“See, Alita”, says the engineering wizard to his left, “we did it!  Prototype #1784-321 is what we have been working towards all this time.  He is the pinnacle of what we can hope to accomplish with the Forge, given our current capabilities, of course.”“Yes, he is grand, isn’t he?” she replies.  “As for a pinnacle, Alan, well that shall take time to see.  Two of his three Warforged Paragon routines are uploaded and fully functional.  The third, though, can’t see to be accessed at this time.  Perhaps further manual training can open them up.  I wish all of them could have been fully programmed, but we’ve maxed out his circuits with the Arcane, Combat, and general Knowledge routines.”“Yes . . . yes we have filled him to capacity,” mutters Alan as he takes one final cursory glance over their greatest accomplishment to date.  “Alright, the Delphin is waiting.  Let’s introduce him to our newest defender.  Come, Prototype #1784-321, don your gear and follow us.”Circuits clicks and fire as Proto grabs his equipment with rapid ease.  His electronic eyes can see glimpses of powerful magic in nearly everything he wears but he pays them no attention.He already knows what they are and why he has them.They are escorted by multiple commanders of significant ranks through the passage within the military compound.  Everywhere the go, notes Proto, people stop what they are doing to gaze at him.“Is that him?  Did they final make their breakthrough?” is the whispered refrain of those who see him.Several minutes later they enter a grand hallway and approach a looming set of golden doors.  Two officers rush forward and quickly pull them aside.  In front of them is a large throne room packed with people of several races and arcane persuasions.  Seated in the center is a masked individual who is unmistakably the Delphin.Proto marches forward along with Alita and Alan.  There is an aura of away that resonates throughout the room.  The Delphin’s masked face surveys the creature in front of him and then turns his gaze towards Alan.“Impressive.  Mithirial construction, I see.  Is this one fully functional?”“Indeed, Your Radiance.  Would you care to see a demonstration?”“Yes.”In a blink of an eye, Proto is surrounded by a Force Cage and several soldier of Law appear in front of him.  The creatures before him are immediately identified as a threat and his combat routines are executed.  He is a blur of mithral and arcane might as he cuts into them with sword and spell.  The illusionary foes are banished in short seconds and the Force Cage disappears.  “Excellent,” remarks the Delphin.  “Prototype #1784-321, you are truly an accomplishment and a rare sign of hope in these trying times.  You are a stunning example of what an Eldritch Knight and Warforged should be.  May you protect us always.  Now, repeat to me your Prime Directives.”Proto utters the first words that have ever been issued from his voice-box in a tinny, monotone ring.  He feels a surge of pride and loyalty flow through him as they are issued.  He must protect the Delphinate and its way of life.“Prime Directives are:  1) Defend the Delphinate.  2)  Execute to commands of the Delphin and his allies without fail.  3) I am Free-Willed and must use this capacity to interpret Directives 1 & 2.”The memory loop stops for now and Proto ponders their situation for a few more hours.Next Time: Our heroes meet with the Queen after all!  Then they return to Thixil Testa and fight- the Ur-Fish!*Farenth appears as a central character in <a href="http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=58748&page=1&pp=40" target="_blank">Cydra: the Early Years. </a></blockquote>

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