Session 53
"Operation: Maximum Carnage"
Gracenda had just spent the last sixteen hours guarding one of the two principle gates into Zhentil Keep. Following the Great War and the disastrous losses the Zhentarim suffered at the hands of the Red Plumes of Hillsfar, material and personnel had become very scarce. Soldiers in the lower tiers were now routinely expected to pull double and even triple shifts. So, as the minutes ticked down before her relief, she was rather annoyed to see a robed woman approaching her post.
As a Corporal, she was in charge of ‘diplomacy’ while several grunts provided back up, “Welcome to Zhentil Keep in the name of Lord Fzoul Chembryl, Chosen of Bane, Tyrant of the Moonsea. Who are you and what is your purpose here?”
The woman drew back her hood as long, tangled raven-black hair fell over her shoulders, “My name is Entropy. I would like to see Dreadmaster Amal.”
Gracenda laughed – by Bane it had been ages since she had heard a joke as good as that one, “No, seriously, you want to see Fzoul’s Handmaiden himself? Do not joke with me woman, who are you really here to see?”
Before Entropy could respond, one of Gracenda’s subordinates screamed out, brandishing a small, ivory wand, “Hold Corporal! This one carries magic on her.”
“By order of Fzoul Chembryl, all magic items must be appropriated by the Zhentarim for the extent of your stay here. Please stand still while Private Fruian determines the number and strength of your possessions.”
After a few seconds, Fruian’s eyes popped wide open, “But . . . but this is ridiculous! She is absolutely covered with strong auras and . . . and . . her pendant is overwhelming!!!”
Turning over her pendant with her fingers, Entropy agreed, “But of course it is overwhelming. This totem was created by a conclave of Greater Gods. Actually, I only have two pieces – one was taken from Desayeus, the mad titan and the other from the dragon Nalavara . . . is there something wrong?”
Seeing that thes these tedious formalities were finally complete, Entropy strode through their ranks. The Zhentarim had enough sense to give the Alienist a very wide berth.
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“Entropy . . . I never thought I would see you again. What makes you think you would be welcome here?”
In response to Amal’s scowl, Entropy returned a warm smile, “Oh, you wound me with your harsh words Dreadmaster! I was merely paying an old friend a visit. Surely you must be aware of the developments in the Dales and Cormyr. The Githyanki are quite the imperialists, the envy of Bane himself!”
“Yes, I am fully aware of this new conflict, what of it?”
“As two new friends have recently pointed out to me, the extension of the Githyanki conquests is inevitable. After they are finished in the south, they will return to crush Zhentil Keep. And, after your very poor showing in the Great War, I think you need to preemptively take down this threat.”
Amal was positively seething, “Bah! You were never a tactician as your gross oversimplification of our strategic withdrawal clearly indicates. In any case, we at least retained our stronghold, I’ve heard that you were banished into the bowels of Faerun."
“Oh come now Amal, I had to deal with two of the most powerful clerics in Cormyr and three Solars. You simply had an avatar of Sune to deal with and . . .”
“What in the name of Lord of Tyrants do you want woman!?”
“An alliance, old friend. I have already recruited allies familiar to you. I have received an offer from a Githyanki warlord in the Astral Plane who disagrees with the current Githyanki military strategy. I daresay he will offer us a way to dispose of this Queen permanently.”
The last time Amal had agreed to such an offer, the opposition he had faced exceeded his wildest expectations. Not only was he forced into combat against an insane titan ex-god, but also a Solar, Planetar, and powerful Night Hag Sorcerer. “I must consult with the Chosen, wait here.”
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The sad reality of the matter was that the Zhentarim did take disastrous losses in the Great War. In addition to losing Yulash, they had lost a large portion of their armies to Marissa, the Chosen of Sune. Six months later, they had only begun to recover and the only thing preventing Zhentil Keep from being overrun by Red Plumes was the timely intervention of Queen Vlaakith.
Fzoul Chembryl knew all of this and he knew that the opportunity presented by Entropy had to be seized, “Amal, tell me about these Githyanki, what do you know?”
“The Githyanki and Githzerai are both progeny of a woman known as Gith, Chosen. Many centuries ago, she led a rebellion of these creatures against their Mind Flayer overseers. Ultimately both groups split due to philosophical differences though their hatred for each other is only eclipsed by their white hot rage against the Illithids. Currently, the Queen of the Githyanki is launching her attacks from the Astral Plane or the Silver Void as they call it. Their capital city is Tu’narath, rumored to be the constructed on the body of a dead god. Vlaakith is actually one of a long-line of monarchs to hold the title of Queen in the Githyanki culture. However, their pact with Tiamat’s consort Ephelemon . . . “
Fzoul waved him to be silent, “Thank you Amal that was more than sufficient.” The Chosen of Bane began to twirl his mustache, a sure sign of his displeasure. Yes, it seems that his most strident supporter had become too intelligent, too powerful for his own good. In the Banite hierarchy, power was everything and Fzoul knew that the ‘Hand of Chembryl’ would soon surpass his power, if he had not already done so.
In truth, a nearly identical opportunity had presented itself a year ago when Fzoul had decided to thrown in his lot with Entropy. By offering Amal’s services, Fzoul hoped that he would be sending his apprentice to his untimely death. Unfortunately, Amal had returned stronger than ever.
“Amal, simply destroying this Vlaakith is not enough. With her out of the way, Hillsfar can simply continue their plans to defeat us. No, we need more out of this deal. See if you can convince this Githyanki warlord to maintain his troops in the Dales and Cormyr and perhaps,” the Chosen smiled wickedly, “encourage them to proceed north and sack Hillsfar.”
“Of course, Chosen, as you command. I will attempt to maximize our opportunity here.”
Certainly you will and, when and if you return, it will seal my dominance over the Moonsea. And then my dear disciple, your usefulness will be at an end.
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With all the four companions present and accounted for, their Gith allies used their amulet of the planes to transport them directly into the presence of Zetan’r’r, Warlord of the Silver Void. The room was surprising sterile and spartan, constructed of black iron and nearly devoid of any furnishings. Before them stood a regal Githzerai beside a second one dressed in arcane robes.
“We thank you for coming, please allow me to introduce his majesty Lord Zetan’r’r.”
The Warlord of the Githyanki began, “Time is short so I will be brief. Vlaakith, the Lich Queen, has decided to take over your world. Myself and others strongly disagree with her decision as we would see the Illithids destroyed first and foremost. I can provide you with the means and direction to slay Vlaakith”
In the form of a Balor, Entropy looked down on the Githyanki. How weak and pathetic he seemed, “You must be desperate indeed to call upon my services. Surely you must have heard about my capricious nature, yet you deem it appropriate to place your trust in me. Why do you not kill the Lich Queen yourself?”
“Because I cannot, it is beyond my power.” Entropy was shocked speechless at the Warlord’s candor.
Still in full command of her diplomatic skills from her days as a Paladin, Noir intervened, “What my mistress meant to ask was if you could tell us a little more about the forces arrayed around Vlaakith.”
“Certainly, that is easy enough. The Lich Queen resides in her Palace of Whispers in Tu’narath. Over the course of many years she has been hoarding the eggs of metallic dragons for conversion into Duthk’giths, half-dragon Githyanki. We believe that Vlaakith’s defense is coordinated principally by the crippled warlock Ch’r’ai. In addition to red dragons and half-dragons, there are her undead minions, the Xam’karas. Finally, there is the elite of the elite, T’lak’ith, or undead Githyanki knights.”
“Before we agree to undertake this task, you must agree to some stipulations,” Amal muscled his way forward.
“Stipulations? Ha! If you are successful, then you survive, I survive and we can continue our existence. The circumstances are too dire for negotiation.”
“Nevertheless, I demand you hear me out. If we succeed in dispatching Vlaakith, then what? There are still hordes of Githyanki warriors and Red Dragons in the Dalelands and Cormyr, what is to become of them?”
Zetan’r’r smiled, “Why, they would bow before my authority of course! I have agents planted high in the military command, some of Vlaakith’s generals answer to me. Though it will take time, I believe that I can recall them to Tu’narath.”
Now it was Amal’s turn to smile, “Ah, but what if I told you that we did not want your armies to leave so quickly? Perhaps they could stay for a few more months and seize more glory. The Moonsea, as you may know, is ripe for the conquest. Hillsfar, in particular, has been ravaged by the Great War and will easily fall to you. I am sure you will find its citizenry and resources well worth the effort.”
“Hey! I never agreed to this,” Hor’ahun, once again in the company of evil individuals, had now become the moral compass of the group.
“Human, you presume much if you think you can best Vlaakith so easily. Nevertheless, though I will not commit such a brazen act of aggression in your world, it will take time to recall the armies, as I have stated. If they decide to become . . . adventurous . . . during this period then I will not intervene.”
Somewhat satisfied, Amal nodded slowly, “This is acceptable. However, I will need a day to prepare my spells.”
The Warlord gestured to his retainers, “Of course, show them to their quarters. A few more pieces of information before you depart however. The only known method of entry into the Palace of Whispers is by the statue of Gith in its courtyard, you merely need to speak the word ‘Gith.’ Finally, and most important, Vlaakith cannot be truly destroyed unless her phylactery is eliminated. My agents tell me it is located somewhere in the library.”
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The Warlord’s servants had managed to obtain an Astral Skiff, which was used to transport the party towards the Palace of Whispers. Below them, they saw the full bustle of a planar metropolis. Strangely, the entirety of Tu’narath looked vaguely humanoid.
Seeing that their charges were interested, one of the Githzerai scouts commented, “Vlaakith has been using wish spells to animate large portions of Tu’narath. We believe it is becoming unstable.”
Entropy smirked, “Could it be, perhaps, that she seeks to revivify this dead god?”
“That would be most unfortunate.”
After the party was deposited near the statue of Gith, the Skiff sped away. Unlike the congested streets of the city, the area around the Palace was devoid of inhabitants.
Entropy shapechanged into a Pit Fiend as the remainder of her companions completed their power-up suites. "My friends, do not forget one particular feature of the Astral Plane I told you about. It has an interesting effect on the Weave -- all of your spells will be quickened."
Linking hands, they spoke the password “Gith” and disappeared.
