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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 3156245" data-attributes="member: 1210">Where did they go? demands Cluma angrily.Beyond our reach, at least for the moment.  Wherever they have run to, it is beyond even my ability to discern them.  A mental sigh from Prayzose.Perhaps you are reluctant to bring your full power to bear on the question, suggests Dekrasode, but the Emperor’s reply is instant.Of course not, he snaps over the telepathic bond that links the Arrows of Law.  You should know full well that I do nothing halfway.  Once this battle became unavoidable, I put my all into it!Yet you have regrets, Lord Alyth points out. Of course I do!  Some of these people are my friends, and all of them could have been allies if things had worked out differently!  But that doesn’t change the fact that, in the here and now, they are enemies!Cluma thoughtfully interjects, Perhaps if we took them from a different now, we might be able to make them allies...No, Marius responds immediately.  I have tried that before.  Merely a Lester from another time proved... untenable.  Imagine if they joined their analogues- we would double our opposition.  It is not worth the risk.*We must press our advantage, Prayzose sends.  Our assault on their homes is not sustainable.  In a matter of days or weeks our troops will be overextended.  We must finish this quickly.Time is on our side, Marius points out wryly.  Those of us who need to rest and refresh spells and psionics, let’s away to my chronoplane.A mental nod comes from Cluma.  Only a few moments will pass here, he thinks over the link, while you will have several days to prepare.Yes, Marius acknowledges.  We can refresh all of our disjunction buffers and contemplate whether there are any changes to the plan that we should make.Lord Alyth adds, The enemy is putting up more of a fight that expected.  I am impressed.  My plane had dozens of generals of Chaos, but few came near the powers of these ones.They are hardly generals of Chaos, Prayzose points out.  Most of them do not even realize how strongly they are aligned with the forces of Chaos.Lord Alyth’s tone is dry.  They are generals of Chaos, whether they know it or not and whether you choose to admit it or not.  It is on them that the hopes of Chaos lie.  They must be destroyed.That is the one thing that is not in dispute.  Eagerness bleeds into the link from Cluma, or perhaps it is the Rod of Seven Parts that he wields.  Either way, the other Arrows feel it, and the adrenaline already surging through their veins signs with enthusiasm.We simply have to find them first, Prayzose nods.  Upon our return from Marius’ chronoplane, I will contact Master Control. ***The ruins of the city of Goldstone, DorhausThe quickling sergeant races past the slow big folk with contemptuous ease.  None of them can catch him!  He is simply too fast for them to see-The lightning bolt is a bit of a surprise, but he still manages to fling himself out of the way, evading it completely.  But then there are four arrows crawling through the air at him.  He jumps to his feet and rolls out of the way, but there are more of the humans coming in at him from the left.  In the air to his right he sees the spellcaster that threw the lightning bolt at him unleash a trio of magic missiles at him, and these cannot be dodged.  They pepper his body with wounds.  There are too many of them, he realizes.  I must tell the King.  He zips off at high speed, and in less than a minute he reaches Malford, who is atop the fortified roof of the old jail, which now serves as his headquarters here.  To Malford’s back, the valley pinches off and rises steeply into the mountains.  Before the self-proclaimed God-King the battle is visible: his rows of elven, half-elven and gnomish troops, along with the dwarven auxiliaries, behind the ruins, with the advance force of mixed orcs and humans fighting house-to-house against the oncoming force. “Thereisavast hordeofthe enemymylord,” the sergeant says, consciously slowing his speech to a crawl.  “EvenIwaswoundedby oneofthespellcasters thattheenemyhasdeployed.  Isaworcswith sunpowderweaponryintheranks oftheenemy butnotatthefront.  Iamworried thatourValonianorcish alliesmaychangesides whentheyseeforces oftheirWarlord.”Malford absorbs this, a frown on his face.  His fists are clenched at his sides. “IsawForinthianImperial forcesincludingtrained drakessiegeweapons swordsmencavalrywithlances dwarvenengineersafewgiants andsomecagedbeasts thatIdidnotrecognize.  Alsotheforces hadbothclericsandwizardsorsorcerer withtheminthe ranksandIsawmanyof theirwoundedpeople beingpatchedupand sentbackintobattle.”“Numbers?” Malford asks tightly.“Iamnotsure.  Icouldnotgetafullcount buttheyoutnumberus significantly.  Iwouldsay theyhaveatleast tripleournumbers andtheyhaveexperiencedpowerful officersthatare considerablymoreformidable thatwehadanticipated.”The gnome takes a deep breath.  “Thank you.”  He continues to watch the battle, and the quickling sergeant shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.  Finally- after about two seconds- he can’t bear it any more, and he speaks up.“Sirwhatshouldwedo??  Icancarryamessage foryouifyoudesire...”Malford nods.  “I know.  Here.”  He hands the quickling a potion.  “Drink, it will heal your wounds.  And then return to your unit.”  He smiles kindly.  “They need you... Quaffalar, isn’t it?”“Yesmylord,” the sergeant answers, surprised that the God-King would remember his name.“Retreat if you must, but make the enemy pay for every inch that they take,” Malford says grimly.  “We will probably need to fall back to our first defensive position in the mountains above, but we won’t do it without giving them a bloody nose.  Now I think I had best go to the orcs.”“Butsiriftheyturn onusyouareamighty prizeIdon’t thinkthatitissafe foryoutogotothem!”“If I am there,” Malford chuckles, “I can prevent them from turning.”***Spell, the DelphinateZeebo is enjoying the services of his favorite girl when he hears the explosion.  It is prefaced by a long, loud, whistling, rumbling sound.  Then- BOOOOM!!!  It is incredibly loud.  “I’m sorry, dear, but I think something has spoiled the mood,” Zeebo says.  He removes himself from her sweet embrace, throws on a robe and hurries to the window.  He can hear the sounds of screams and cries.  Drawing the curtain aside, he gasps. An entire building has been obliterated.  Only a crater, probably 20’ deep, remains.  Two of the neighboring buildings are aflame, and the storefront across the street shows massive cracking and damage.  Four people lay dead- in fact, torn to bits- in the street between the storefront and the crater. The whistling sound comes again.  Zeebo’s eyes slide to the left and he sees a thin metal needle flying through the sky at unbelievable speed.  “Oh no,” Zeebo says.Zeebo! comes a sending, clearly from Estelias, Hurry to Transmuter’s Park, we’re gathering defenders here.  There are more of these things coming in from Law!  They aren’t magical!I’ll be there as soon as I can, he replies.  Gulping, he hurries to the dresser to get dressed.BOOOOOM!!!![/B]  There are more screams from outside.  Oh no, Zeebo thinks again.  Estelias says they aren’t magic, whatever the hell those things are.  That means that the antimagic defenses won’t do anything against them.  What the hell are they, and who is shooting them at us?The whistling starts again outside.  The City of Brass, Elemental Plane of FireThe great flaming steed rears and snorts flame.  It is the glowing red of hot coals.  Pasha Amhari Ifroobil leaps onto its back and grips its mane tightly.  Instantly the beast begins wildly bucking, attempting to hurl Ifroobil from its back.  It screams and bellows, belches out a great gout of white-hot flaming plasma, and even rolls over to attempt to crush Amhari Ifroobil beneath its blazing weight.But the would-be Archomental retains his tight grip, squeezing the flanks of the beast of Sustarre with his legs.  He uses crushing force; he knows full well that the beast must be subdued if it is to serve him.  And, for this hunt, he wants to have a truly incredible mount. Amhari and the beast wrestle, bruising and beating each other for almost an hour until, finally, it ends.  The efreet padishah has his legs locked around the beast of Sustarre’s neck, and its flanks are heaving and smoking with exertion.  All around in the blazing Orange Waste, blobs of white-hot plasma burn where the beast spat them out.  Slowly Amhari Ifroobil begins to stroke the beast’s head, cooing gently to it.  He whispers to it, and as he does so its breathing calms.  Its eyes lose their rage and take on a calculating, greedy look.  And when, slowly, Amhari unlocks his legs and stands up with it, it tips its head to acknowledge its submission to him.   Amhari Ifroobil grins.  He has his mount.***FaerielandThe leShay smiles slowly to himself.  Before him, a pool represents the possibilities swimming around his target, Sybele.  She does not show up directly, but the movements of Amhari Ifroobil make it obvious.The time is coming.  At the moment of maximum distraction, Sybele will die. Next Time: Back to our heroes!*Quite some time ago- in fact, iirc it was 1-2 THREADS ago in the story of our heroes- Lester received word that a one-armed version of himself had shown up in his regular haunts looking for him, claiming to be his brother.  The party was puzzled, but ultimately dismissed the incident as some sort of weird trickery.  Though the pcs still don’t have any clues about this, and have in fact prolly completely forgotten about the incident, it was an analogue of Lester from another time stream that Marius was trying to manipulate and use against ‘our’ Lester.</blockquote>

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