Pathfinder 1E JollyDoc's Way Of The Wicked
- Thread starter JollyDoc
- Start date
carborundum
Adventurer
Thanks! I'm a bit at a loss as to how the troops are supposed to see or find each other/signal with flags etc when the attack is at night. I think I'll end up having a faux sunrise effect as another defence of Mitra's holy vale.
carborundum
Adventurer
I'll make it like a watery dawn. It's just...reading all the encounters the characters see all sorts of stuff happening, get targeted by clerics and archers etc...but it's the middle of the night!
JollyDoc
Explorer
10 Gozran, 4718 - The Wrath of Eiramanthus
As the companions of the Ninth Knot ascended the tower, they passed through two floors which were essentially large open rooms. The walls of these levels were adorned in ornate frescoes which seemed to tell some sort of history. On the second floor these paintings depicted a six-armed warrior goddess leading armies of hobgoblins into battle against peaceful nations. After the conquest, the frescoes turned to recording the countless atrocities committed by her words and deeds. On the third floor the story continued, showing the same six-armed conquering queen meeting a great dragon upon the field of battle. The dragon defeated her, but rather than slay her, took her across the world to show her her many crimes and their repercussions. Then the dragon took her away and showed her worlds without number and the countless wonders therein. The six-armed warrior goddess wept with the realization of the evil she had done. Finally, on the fourth floor of the pagoda, the tale concluded. The last frescoes illustrated the queen and the dragon entangled in scenes of gentle intimacy amidst a garden of crystal. These frescoes, however, were the last thing the companions noticed, for Shakti herself sats cross-legged in the center of the room, a great six-armed sublime ogress in a meditative pose. Attending her was a tiger-headed creature dressed in copper colored robes decorated with the insignia of a dragon.
“Ah, guests!” Shakti said, smiling mirthlessly. “And uninvited ones at that. That means you are either thieves or dragon hunters. Tell me, friends, which one is it today?”
“We are actually recruiters,” Dakota said cheerfully. “We saw all of your exploits on the walls below, and we think you would make an excellent addition to our cause. Before you say no, you should be aware that your sister concubines did not fare so well when they treated us rudely.”
“You murdered them,” the tiger-headed creature said coldly. “You murdered my beloveds to get to me. Bastards! Monstrosities! You wish to fight a dragon, eh? Then a fight you shall have!”
The creature began to transform and enlarge before their astonished eyes until, in the space of three heartbeats, a huge, copper-scaled dragon filled most of the room.
Before the Knot could react, Eiramanthus opened his jaws wide and spewed forth a cloud of green, noxious vapor. As it settled over Roger and Grumblejack, the two of them felt their muscles become sluggish, and their movements slow. Grumblejack drew back, involuntarily trembling before the wrath of the might dragon. Behind Eiramanthus, Shakti rose gracefully to her feet. Her six arms began to dance and weave, and then a column of white fire erupted around Tardaesha, Lemmy and Roger. Roger howled in pain, but forced himself to move. Clutching Helbrand clumsily, he launched himself at Eiramanthus and buried the blade in the dragon’s foreleg. The dragon flinched back, snarling and snapping. Shakti stepped in front of him and thrust all six of her hands forward. The force of another spell struck Tardaesha, who was coming up behind Roger, and left her stunned and reeling. Eiramanthus shook Roger loose and then rained down a barrage of claws, bites, wing buffets and tail slaps upon the anti-paladin. Just as it looked as if Roger would be torn to pieces, Kelvin quickly conjured a sirocco of desert-hot wind and sand around the dragon. Eiramanthus roared as his tongue lolled out of his mouth, fatigued by the storm.
“Stand back!” Shakti commanded.
She hurled a fireball towards the knot, but Kelvin threw up a wall of force at the last moment between the ogress and his comrades, effectively separating her from her lover as well. Instead, the flames blew back upon her. Behind her, Roger struggled to raise his sword again and struck weakly at Eiramanthus. The mighty dragon ignored the blow. Instead he used his own magic to dispel the sirocco and then, almost casually, turned and clamped his jaws down on Roger’s chest. With a groan, the half-orc fell limply to the floor. A growl from his flank drew Eiramanthus’ attention, and as he whirled, he saw Grumblejack rushing towards him. The dragon pounced like a great cat and landed on the ogre, mauling him viciously.
Dakota cursed in frustration as she took the oathbow out of its sheath and knocked an arrow.
“Death to those who have wronged me!" she shouted.
Her arrow flew and struck the shoulder of Eiramanthus. He roared and bit at the shaft like a wounded animal. Shakti watched in horror from behind Kelvin’s force wall. Placing all six of her palms together, she concentrated. In an instant she teleported beyond the wall, but just as quickly Kelvin threw up another, keeping her from her mate. Fury blazed in her eyes, but just as she prepared to teleport again, Katarina moved silently up behind her and sank a dagger into the ogress’s back. She staggered, and then Dakota peppered her with a volley of arrows. Her iron-like skin shrugged off most of the damage, since she had not been the object of Dakota’s oath. Shakti moved towards Dakota, but then Lemmy slashed at her from behind, his kinetic blade biting deep into her flesh. Snarling, Shakti cast another spell and vanished again. This time she did manage to reach Eiramanthus…just as Knick-Knack darted in and teleported Grumblejack away from the dragon’s wrath.
Kelvin used the chaos as an opportunity to drag Roger into the stairwell. Dakota rushed to them and quickly cast a healing spell on the anti-paladin. His eyes flickered open but it was obvious that he was in no condition to rejoin the fight. At that same moment, beyond the force walls, Shakti took the momentary respite to tend to the worst of Eiramanthus’s wounds. Then, before their adversaries could recover any further, she used her magic to transport Eiramanthus and herself right to them. The dragon roared and seized Grumblejack in his mouth, shaking the half-ogre back and forth like a rag doll before dropping him limply to the ground. Kelvin responded by hurling an exploding ball of ice at the dragon and his consort. Tardaesha, having finally regained her senses, charged in, slashing at Eiramanthus’s copper hide while Dakota provided covering fire from behind. Shakti again reached out to heal the dragon’s wounds, but Eiramanthus was unfortunately already in the process of casting his own spell. The area around him exploded in a brilliant blast of fine, glittering dust. It settled over everything and everyone nearby, revealing Kat’s hiding spot, but also temporarily blinding Shakti in the process. She cried out, covering her eyes and stumbling away from her consort. Tardaesha was still a bit groggy, but she knew an opportunity when she saw one. She slashed at Eiramanthus again, but then pulled back and spoke a prayer. Pointing at each of her companions in turn, she used her magic to imbue them with her own unholy power, enabling them to smite the agents of goodness as she could.
“Strike now!” Tardaesha commanded.
Dakota fired immediately, only to discover that her sister’s boon didn’t help with her bow. She would have to get in more up close and personal. Katarina leaped at the still-blinded Shakti and plunged her dagger into the ogress’s back, channelling the unholy energy as she did so. Lemmy followed that up with an evil-infused telekinetic blast. Eiramanthus bellowed in blind rage and struck out at Kat, sending her rolling across the floor. From the stairwell, Roger climbed painfully back to his feet. He held out his pentacle of Asmodeus and sent its power out in waves that washed over both Shakti and Eiramanthus. Unfortunately, Kat was also caught in the effect as she tumbled past.
“Sorry,” Roger mumbled.
Drawing his sword, he staggered across the room towards Shakti. Her vision was clearing and she backhanded him as he approached, but he still managed to graze her with his swing. Behind her, Kat rolled quickly to her feet and leaped on Shakti’s back, plunging her dagger down again and again. Finally the last consort fell. Eiramanthus wailed and rose to his full height, wings spread and jaws gaping as he prepared to drench them all in flames. Tardaesha thrust her blade up into his breast, and Dakota loosed a final volley of arrows. The mighty copper dragon sagged and fell heavily to his side. He heaved one last breath and then was still.
________________________________________________________________
After Kelvin unceremoniously ripped a patch of hid from the corpse of Eiramanthus, he cast a spell upon it meant to direct him to the dragon’s horde.
“I know Chargammon said to destroy everything,” he said after completing the ritual, “but what he doesn’t know will make us rich!”
Once Dakota had revived Grumblejack and healed the worse of Roger’s wounds,the divination led the companions to the the great, three-level tower of white stone that rose from a crystal garden in the center of the island. A single, massive, heavy wooden door stood closed on one side. Above it was carved a poetic inscription:
“Would I trade three kings' crowns for the Dark earth of her wilds? Would I trade war's red renown for Even one of her smiles? Would I trade five thousand ships For her vast sea white with foam? Would I trade a thousand worlds for a fine day spent at home?”
The door was unlocked and not barred. Beyond, the entire first floor was taken up by an enormous chessboard, the pieces of which looked meant to be used by giants. The companions moved cautiously into the room, obviously suspecting some sort of trap.
“There are three queens,” Roger said after several moments.
Kelvin looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“You are a devotee of the game of kings??” he asked in disbelief.
“I may have been sired by orcs,” Roger grinned, “but I wasn’t raised by them. I was taught to play as a lesson in tactics. There is not supposed to be a red queen on the board.”
“It must be a riddle of some sort,” Kelvin sighed. “Dragons do love their games. Perhaps the clue is in the poem.”
He returned to the door and reread the inscription.
“Each of the first three lines,” he observed, “contains a number, a color and one oddly capitalized letter.”
“Black, white and red,” Roger nodded. “The colors of the queens. That must mean that the numbers and capitalized letters are squares on the board. Observe.”
He walked to the black queen and touched it. As he did so, it floated several inches into the air. He pushed it effortlessly over to another square and touched it again, causing it to settle.
“3D,” he said.
He repeated the process with the other two queens, assigning them to squares which he stated were 1E for the red queen and 5F for the white. As the last queen settled, the chessboard simply melted away, revealing a descending spiral staircase.
The stairs gave way to a massive underground vault filled with a horde to beggar all others.
“Now this is worth killin’ a dragon for!” Lemmy crowed, diving head-first into a pile of coins.
There were three chests full of fine silverware labelled, “For Lunaria, my princess of the moon. ” These items all had a lunar motif and were of purest silver. There was a magical bag that opened into a space the size of a large room. A flying broom was labelled with a tag that read, “Acquired from one E.L. Phaba, W .W .o.t.W ., after she threatened to ‘send her flying monkeys after me.'” Other items included a small golden idol of a fat demonic or infernal figure of uncertain origin with two ruby eyes; a platinum statuette of a running horse that when tossed into the air would orbit the owner’s head and grant him or her great skill in riding; a large collection of one thousand different gold pieces from across the planes, no two alike; a beautiful and intricate rug made of silk and gold wire covered in arabesque motifs; a rod that extended the duration of a caster’s spells and which resembled a fine black ebony wood walking stick with a silver cobra head; a spice cabinet imbued with magic that prevented stored food from spoiling, filled with over a hundred pounds of exotic spices; a single massive mammoth tusk made of unblemished ivory; a golden sextant in a lacquer case easily fifty or sixty years ahead of current technology; an enchanted ring made of mithral with two green jade studs on either sides that, when squeezed, would cause the wearer to blink in and out of existence; a heavy steel shield that was solid black at first, but when wielded, formed any device desired upon the black field by the bearer and granted a degree of invulnerability; a chest full of finely made board games from a dozen worlds and different eras; six potions wrapped and contained in a belt pouch with a note that read: “Drink for hope.”; a vicious looking helm made from a human skull which featured jagged iron horns; a heavy wooden wine rack with a sign that read, “Medicinal Liquor Only,” and which contained 100 bottles of rare brandies, whiskies and other liquors from across the planes; a large block of obsidian that, though it radiated magic, seemed to be of no real worth; a life-size bronze statue of an elegant nude female elf; and a box full of skulls, including those of a chimera, manticore, wyvern, aboleth, river drake, cyclops, hill giant, and warg as well as other less identifiable bones.
As Roger looked over the horde with his comrades, he felt a strong pull in his mind from Helbrand. His eyes were drawn to a satin pillow upon which rested a ruby sword pommel. The pommel screwed easily into place and the blade immediately whispered, “Complete me and I will serve thee.”
Finally amidst the valuables there was a strange item – a crystalline vessel containing a floating skull. It was Roger who found this as well, and as he picked up the vessel, two points of crimson light flared within the eye sockets of the skull.
“Free me,” it whispered with a hideous hiss. “I will grant thee immortality, if you will but free me.”
As the companions of the Ninth Knot ascended the tower, they passed through two floors which were essentially large open rooms. The walls of these levels were adorned in ornate frescoes which seemed to tell some sort of history. On the second floor these paintings depicted a six-armed warrior goddess leading armies of hobgoblins into battle against peaceful nations. After the conquest, the frescoes turned to recording the countless atrocities committed by her words and deeds. On the third floor the story continued, showing the same six-armed conquering queen meeting a great dragon upon the field of battle. The dragon defeated her, but rather than slay her, took her across the world to show her her many crimes and their repercussions. Then the dragon took her away and showed her worlds without number and the countless wonders therein. The six-armed warrior goddess wept with the realization of the evil she had done. Finally, on the fourth floor of the pagoda, the tale concluded. The last frescoes illustrated the queen and the dragon entangled in scenes of gentle intimacy amidst a garden of crystal. These frescoes, however, were the last thing the companions noticed, for Shakti herself sats cross-legged in the center of the room, a great six-armed sublime ogress in a meditative pose. Attending her was a tiger-headed creature dressed in copper colored robes decorated with the insignia of a dragon.
“Ah, guests!” Shakti said, smiling mirthlessly. “And uninvited ones at that. That means you are either thieves or dragon hunters. Tell me, friends, which one is it today?”
“We are actually recruiters,” Dakota said cheerfully. “We saw all of your exploits on the walls below, and we think you would make an excellent addition to our cause. Before you say no, you should be aware that your sister concubines did not fare so well when they treated us rudely.”
“You murdered them,” the tiger-headed creature said coldly. “You murdered my beloveds to get to me. Bastards! Monstrosities! You wish to fight a dragon, eh? Then a fight you shall have!”
The creature began to transform and enlarge before their astonished eyes until, in the space of three heartbeats, a huge, copper-scaled dragon filled most of the room.
Before the Knot could react, Eiramanthus opened his jaws wide and spewed forth a cloud of green, noxious vapor. As it settled over Roger and Grumblejack, the two of them felt their muscles become sluggish, and their movements slow. Grumblejack drew back, involuntarily trembling before the wrath of the might dragon. Behind Eiramanthus, Shakti rose gracefully to her feet. Her six arms began to dance and weave, and then a column of white fire erupted around Tardaesha, Lemmy and Roger. Roger howled in pain, but forced himself to move. Clutching Helbrand clumsily, he launched himself at Eiramanthus and buried the blade in the dragon’s foreleg. The dragon flinched back, snarling and snapping. Shakti stepped in front of him and thrust all six of her hands forward. The force of another spell struck Tardaesha, who was coming up behind Roger, and left her stunned and reeling. Eiramanthus shook Roger loose and then rained down a barrage of claws, bites, wing buffets and tail slaps upon the anti-paladin. Just as it looked as if Roger would be torn to pieces, Kelvin quickly conjured a sirocco of desert-hot wind and sand around the dragon. Eiramanthus roared as his tongue lolled out of his mouth, fatigued by the storm.
“Stand back!” Shakti commanded.
She hurled a fireball towards the knot, but Kelvin threw up a wall of force at the last moment between the ogress and his comrades, effectively separating her from her lover as well. Instead, the flames blew back upon her. Behind her, Roger struggled to raise his sword again and struck weakly at Eiramanthus. The mighty dragon ignored the blow. Instead he used his own magic to dispel the sirocco and then, almost casually, turned and clamped his jaws down on Roger’s chest. With a groan, the half-orc fell limply to the floor. A growl from his flank drew Eiramanthus’ attention, and as he whirled, he saw Grumblejack rushing towards him. The dragon pounced like a great cat and landed on the ogre, mauling him viciously.
Dakota cursed in frustration as she took the oathbow out of its sheath and knocked an arrow.
“Death to those who have wronged me!" she shouted.
Her arrow flew and struck the shoulder of Eiramanthus. He roared and bit at the shaft like a wounded animal. Shakti watched in horror from behind Kelvin’s force wall. Placing all six of her palms together, she concentrated. In an instant she teleported beyond the wall, but just as quickly Kelvin threw up another, keeping her from her mate. Fury blazed in her eyes, but just as she prepared to teleport again, Katarina moved silently up behind her and sank a dagger into the ogress’s back. She staggered, and then Dakota peppered her with a volley of arrows. Her iron-like skin shrugged off most of the damage, since she had not been the object of Dakota’s oath. Shakti moved towards Dakota, but then Lemmy slashed at her from behind, his kinetic blade biting deep into her flesh. Snarling, Shakti cast another spell and vanished again. This time she did manage to reach Eiramanthus…just as Knick-Knack darted in and teleported Grumblejack away from the dragon’s wrath.
Kelvin used the chaos as an opportunity to drag Roger into the stairwell. Dakota rushed to them and quickly cast a healing spell on the anti-paladin. His eyes flickered open but it was obvious that he was in no condition to rejoin the fight. At that same moment, beyond the force walls, Shakti took the momentary respite to tend to the worst of Eiramanthus’s wounds. Then, before their adversaries could recover any further, she used her magic to transport Eiramanthus and herself right to them. The dragon roared and seized Grumblejack in his mouth, shaking the half-ogre back and forth like a rag doll before dropping him limply to the ground. Kelvin responded by hurling an exploding ball of ice at the dragon and his consort. Tardaesha, having finally regained her senses, charged in, slashing at Eiramanthus’s copper hide while Dakota provided covering fire from behind. Shakti again reached out to heal the dragon’s wounds, but Eiramanthus was unfortunately already in the process of casting his own spell. The area around him exploded in a brilliant blast of fine, glittering dust. It settled over everything and everyone nearby, revealing Kat’s hiding spot, but also temporarily blinding Shakti in the process. She cried out, covering her eyes and stumbling away from her consort. Tardaesha was still a bit groggy, but she knew an opportunity when she saw one. She slashed at Eiramanthus again, but then pulled back and spoke a prayer. Pointing at each of her companions in turn, she used her magic to imbue them with her own unholy power, enabling them to smite the agents of goodness as she could.
“Strike now!” Tardaesha commanded.
Dakota fired immediately, only to discover that her sister’s boon didn’t help with her bow. She would have to get in more up close and personal. Katarina leaped at the still-blinded Shakti and plunged her dagger into the ogress’s back, channelling the unholy energy as she did so. Lemmy followed that up with an evil-infused telekinetic blast. Eiramanthus bellowed in blind rage and struck out at Kat, sending her rolling across the floor. From the stairwell, Roger climbed painfully back to his feet. He held out his pentacle of Asmodeus and sent its power out in waves that washed over both Shakti and Eiramanthus. Unfortunately, Kat was also caught in the effect as she tumbled past.
“Sorry,” Roger mumbled.
Drawing his sword, he staggered across the room towards Shakti. Her vision was clearing and she backhanded him as he approached, but he still managed to graze her with his swing. Behind her, Kat rolled quickly to her feet and leaped on Shakti’s back, plunging her dagger down again and again. Finally the last consort fell. Eiramanthus wailed and rose to his full height, wings spread and jaws gaping as he prepared to drench them all in flames. Tardaesha thrust her blade up into his breast, and Dakota loosed a final volley of arrows. The mighty copper dragon sagged and fell heavily to his side. He heaved one last breath and then was still.
________________________________________________________________
After Kelvin unceremoniously ripped a patch of hid from the corpse of Eiramanthus, he cast a spell upon it meant to direct him to the dragon’s horde.
“I know Chargammon said to destroy everything,” he said after completing the ritual, “but what he doesn’t know will make us rich!”
Once Dakota had revived Grumblejack and healed the worse of Roger’s wounds,the divination led the companions to the the great, three-level tower of white stone that rose from a crystal garden in the center of the island. A single, massive, heavy wooden door stood closed on one side. Above it was carved a poetic inscription:
“Would I trade three kings' crowns for the Dark earth of her wilds? Would I trade war's red renown for Even one of her smiles? Would I trade five thousand ships For her vast sea white with foam? Would I trade a thousand worlds for a fine day spent at home?”
The door was unlocked and not barred. Beyond, the entire first floor was taken up by an enormous chessboard, the pieces of which looked meant to be used by giants. The companions moved cautiously into the room, obviously suspecting some sort of trap.
“There are three queens,” Roger said after several moments.
Kelvin looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“You are a devotee of the game of kings??” he asked in disbelief.
“I may have been sired by orcs,” Roger grinned, “but I wasn’t raised by them. I was taught to play as a lesson in tactics. There is not supposed to be a red queen on the board.”
“It must be a riddle of some sort,” Kelvin sighed. “Dragons do love their games. Perhaps the clue is in the poem.”
He returned to the door and reread the inscription.
“Each of the first three lines,” he observed, “contains a number, a color and one oddly capitalized letter.”
“Black, white and red,” Roger nodded. “The colors of the queens. That must mean that the numbers and capitalized letters are squares on the board. Observe.”
He walked to the black queen and touched it. As he did so, it floated several inches into the air. He pushed it effortlessly over to another square and touched it again, causing it to settle.
“3D,” he said.
He repeated the process with the other two queens, assigning them to squares which he stated were 1E for the red queen and 5F for the white. As the last queen settled, the chessboard simply melted away, revealing a descending spiral staircase.
The stairs gave way to a massive underground vault filled with a horde to beggar all others.
“Now this is worth killin’ a dragon for!” Lemmy crowed, diving head-first into a pile of coins.
There were three chests full of fine silverware labelled, “For Lunaria, my princess of the moon. ” These items all had a lunar motif and were of purest silver. There was a magical bag that opened into a space the size of a large room. A flying broom was labelled with a tag that read, “Acquired from one E.L. Phaba, W .W .o.t.W ., after she threatened to ‘send her flying monkeys after me.'” Other items included a small golden idol of a fat demonic or infernal figure of uncertain origin with two ruby eyes; a platinum statuette of a running horse that when tossed into the air would orbit the owner’s head and grant him or her great skill in riding; a large collection of one thousand different gold pieces from across the planes, no two alike; a beautiful and intricate rug made of silk and gold wire covered in arabesque motifs; a rod that extended the duration of a caster’s spells and which resembled a fine black ebony wood walking stick with a silver cobra head; a spice cabinet imbued with magic that prevented stored food from spoiling, filled with over a hundred pounds of exotic spices; a single massive mammoth tusk made of unblemished ivory; a golden sextant in a lacquer case easily fifty or sixty years ahead of current technology; an enchanted ring made of mithral with two green jade studs on either sides that, when squeezed, would cause the wearer to blink in and out of existence; a heavy steel shield that was solid black at first, but when wielded, formed any device desired upon the black field by the bearer and granted a degree of invulnerability; a chest full of finely made board games from a dozen worlds and different eras; six potions wrapped and contained in a belt pouch with a note that read: “Drink for hope.”; a vicious looking helm made from a human skull which featured jagged iron horns; a heavy wooden wine rack with a sign that read, “Medicinal Liquor Only,” and which contained 100 bottles of rare brandies, whiskies and other liquors from across the planes; a large block of obsidian that, though it radiated magic, seemed to be of no real worth; a life-size bronze statue of an elegant nude female elf; and a box full of skulls, including those of a chimera, manticore, wyvern, aboleth, river drake, cyclops, hill giant, and warg as well as other less identifiable bones.
As Roger looked over the horde with his comrades, he felt a strong pull in his mind from Helbrand. His eyes were drawn to a satin pillow upon which rested a ruby sword pommel. The pommel screwed easily into place and the blade immediately whispered, “Complete me and I will serve thee.”
Finally amidst the valuables there was a strange item – a crystalline vessel containing a floating skull. It was Roger who found this as well, and as he picked up the vessel, two points of crimson light flared within the eye sockets of the skull.
“Free me,” it whispered with a hideous hiss. “I will grant thee immortality, if you will but free me.”
JollyDoc
Explorer
10 Gozran, 4718 - 8 Desnus, 4718 - Cracks In The Facade
“Who…what are you?” Roger asked the disembodied skull
“I no longer remember who I was once was,” the skull hissed. “For as long as I can remember I have been called by others The Nameless Tyrant.”
“Never heard of you,” Kelvin said in a bored tone. “So what is it exactly that you are offering in exchange for your freedom?”
“The secret to life eternal,” the Tyrant repeated.
“That’s very vague,” Kelvin said. “I and my two sisters have already discovered that secret. What more is there to know?”
“Vampires,” the Tyrant hissed derisively. “Bloodsuckers. You are weak. You cannot walk in the light of day. You fear the trappings of the holy, smelly herbs and shiny trinkets. You do not know true freedom. The secrets that I hold are so much more.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe you,” Kelvin said. “We’ll think about it. Tardaesha, put him in the hole.”
As the skull protested, Tardaesha unfolded a black cloth on the floor, revealing an extra- dimensional pit. He tossed the jar in and then refolded the hole.
Once they’d gathered up the remainder of Eiramanthus’s horde, the companions set about exploring the rest of the tower. The floor above the chess board was filled with a library beyond imagining. An inscription over the lintel read: “Touching a dragon's library without permission is HARMFUL to your health.”
“That could be just a general statement,” Kelvin mused, “or it could be an actual warning.”
He extended one hand and closed his eyes for a moment.
“I sense necromantic energy here,” he said. “Kat, see what you can find.”
Katarina rolled her eyes, but slipped into the chamber, muttering under her breath.
“Seems to me like the people who are already dead should be the ones testing out the necromancy theory.”
She moved among the books for several minutes until at last she found what she was looking for.
“There,” she said, turning to Kelvin. “There’s some sort of magical ward centered there.”
“I’ve got it from here,” Kelvin said as he entered the room. “Time for the living to make themselves scarce.”
As Kat walked out, Kelvin reached out and pulled a book from one of the shelves. Instantly he felt himself blasted by necromantic energy…a blast that would have certainly killed him if he’d not already been dead. Instead he just felt invigorated.
“Lovely,” he smiled.
The library would take time to catalog, and the others wanted to make sure there were no more of the dragon’s minions around waiting to ambush them, so Kelvin accompanied them further up the tower. The next level was given over to a musty, cramped archive filled almost beyond reason with countless strange texts and tomes. Standing amongst the stacks was an individual draped in a great robe and hood made of some otherworldly fabric. What was immediately apparent was that the creature was not any familiar race, featuring four arms and translucent grey skin.
“Ah…hello there,” Tardaesha called out.
The creature did not look up from the tome it held in its hands, but did reply in an unintelligible language. Tardaesha looked at Knick-Knack
“See if you communicate telepathically,” she said.
The little cacodaemon closed his eyes and concentrated for a few moments.
“It say it does research,” Knick-Knack said when he opened his eyes again.
“I think I recognize its race,” Kelvin said. “It looks like a witchwyrd, though I’ve never heard of one having four arms. Let me give this a try.”
He cleared his throat, and then spoke in a soothing, sing-song language.
“Who are you?” Kelvin asked. “Why are you here?”
The creature answered with a noise like a whistle, followed by many clicks.
“But you can just call me the Visitor,” it chuckled. “I was given permission by the dragon to come here and peruse his books. I believe at last I have found a solution to Vargat (more whistling)'s conundrum. The transpositioning of irradiant vectors is transcendentally possible! You see, its been here right before us all along. Consider the Halooth and Vandrissial Vorniths. Child's play I know. But when considered in the light of this text by (much throating clearing) then see, it is possible to conceptualize the fundamental axes of eternity. You need only frombotz the kintoozler.”
“I see,” Kelvin nodded, not understanding a word. “Well, Eiramanthus was called away unexpectedly and may not return for a couple of centuries. He left the library in our keeping. Would you be interested in purchasing it?”
At this the Visitor did look up.
“Purchase?” it asked. “Would Eiramanthus approve of such a thing?”
“Oh he’s read all of these hundreds of times,” Kelvin waved dismissively. “He’s grown bored with them. I’m sure he’ll accumulate many more on his travels. So what would you say to…50,000?”
“A bargain,” the Visitor smiled. “A pleasure doing business with you.”
___________________________________________________________________
While Kelvin remained behind to help the Visitor catalog his new library, Grumblejack, Roger and Lemmy set off to search the rest of the island for any survivors. As they flew over one of the crystalline gardens, six winged figures rose up from below to intercept them. The creatures were larger than a man, and their bodies seemed to made of the same crystal that formed the garden. They had four arms and sported a pair of curving horns upon their brows. Immediately the trio wheeled about and flew quickly back towards the dragon’s dome, the gargoyles in close pursuit behind them. Grumblejack reached the dome first.
“We’ve got company,” he said when he found Dakota and Tardaesha.
“Leave them to me,” Tardaesha smiled.
Tardaesha exited the dome disguised as a nun of Iomedae, thanks to the circlet Thorn had given her.
“Greetings travelers,” she called to the gargoyles as they circled above her. “How can we be of service?”
“You trespass here,” one of the gargoyles rumbled. “You must leave now!”
“We are on official business for the Church,” Tardaesha replied, spreading her hands innocently. “Eiramanthus requested our presence here.”
“The Master introduces all of his guest to us,” the gargoyle growled. “We are the caretakers. We will take you before him now to confirm your tale.”
“Of course,” Tardaesha grinned.
As the gargoyles prepared to land, Lemmy sent a blast of rock, soil and mud at the nearest one, entangling it in the debris. Grumblejack stepped in front of another and swung his sword with all of his prodigious strength. The thing shattered like a glass window beneath the impact. From a high window above, Kelvin hurled lightning down upon the guardians. As they tried to leap away from the bolts, Tardaesha seized one of them by the throat and began draining the life out of it through her undead touch. Just before it expired, she plunged her sword through its heart. The remaining gargoyles charged, and one managed to rip into Roger with it’s crystal claws, while another lowered its head and gored Grumblejack in the belly. That was their last gambit. Roger, Lemmy and Grumblejack closed in on them in a killing circle and made short work of them.
_____________________________________________________________
As the companions swept the remainder of the island, Lemmy came upon a strange, trisymmetrical creature calmly munching on crystal in one of the gardens. As the dwarf approached, prepared to dispatch the odd little monster, it surprised him by speaking.
“Ah,” it said in a deep, gravelly growl, “have you come to fetch me for my audience with Eiramanthus?”
“Er…,” Lemmy stammered, “remind me what you were here fer again?”
“Of course,” the creature said politely. “I am Xkr'Xkz'Xko, but you may call me Xekar. I am ambassador for King Bokkakamandu CXLVII Hide-Red-As-Rubies, of the Xorn. I have come here to find out if it is true, that within the hoard of Eiramanthus is to be found the fabled Jundarian Stone, and if so what can be done to acquire the treasure.”
“Huh,” Lemmy grunted. “Might be. What’s it look like?”
“To your eyes, not like much,” Xekar admitted. “Not much more than a large piece of obsidian.”
“What’s it do?” Lemmy pressed.
“The Jundarian Stone is a religious artifact of the Xorn,” Xekar explained. “It is a chip of the original great world-mountain from which the elemental plane of earth was born. The Xorn believe that if all the lost stones of the Earth-Mountain can be reassembled, a new golden age of xornic glory will begin. The stone was stolen from us by the Shai-tan, wicked free-willed spirits of the earth. Eiramanthus supposedly won it in a game of riddles with a particularly ingratious Shaitan Noble whom the dragon later ended up having to slay in self-defense to claim this isle.”
“Fascinating,” Lemmy said sarcastically. “So how much is it worth to you?”
Xekar produced a pouch of flawless rubies.
“Is this enough?”
“I think that’ll just about do it,” Lemmy grinned.
_________________________________________________________________
As the Ninth Knot made one last sweep through the dragon’s dome before departing, they were surprised to hear the sound of a single pair of hands clapping, the noise echoing and resounding through the great hall.
“My lords, ‘tis well done,” a voice called out. “You are once more victorious. It is a shame that your victory will be so short lived.”
The companions turned, tensing for another battle, only to see the contract devil Dessiter emerge from the shadows.
“We have no time for your riddles, barrister,” Kelvin grumbled. “What are you going on about?”
“It is my sad and unwelcome duty to report that you are betrayed,” Dessiter replied, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. “When this mission is complete, I know for certain that you will receive an invitation to visit Cardinal Thorn in his secret fortress far to the north. He named it the Agathium, the place of agony, in parody of the great palace of the House of Darius – the Adarium. He will summon you to his throne and there he will destroy you.”
“And why would he do that?” Tardaesha asked skeptically.
“Paranoia has seized his mind and driven the Cardinal to madness,” the devil said. “He has grown to fear you. He is terrified that you rise too quickly and someday soon you will supplant him. With every victory, with every deed, he sees the future more and more clearly. It is a future where he is no longer master of the Knot of Thorns.”
“How did you come by this information?” Kelvin asked, his eyes narrowed.
“I have heard it from the lips of the master himself,” Dessiter shrugged. “Even now, he sets the trap. If you go to the Agathium at my dear sister's invitation, you will die.”
“Your sister?” Tardaesha asked.
“Tiadora,” Dessiter smiled. “We share a bond ... uncommon amongst devils.”
“So she has turned against us as well?” Tardaesha snapped.
“Tiadora is bound by spell and oath to the master,” Dessiter said matter-of-factly. “As long as he lives and possesses control of her, she will do his bidding. I doubt she bears you any true malice. She is simply following orders. But if you could free her from Thorn, she would be a useful ally.”
“You’ll forgive me,” Kelvin interjected, “but you must admit that this ‘revelation’ is awfully specific and convenient. Why should we trust you?”
“A just question, my lords,” Dessiter bowed. “In this time of treachery and dark maneuvering, you should trust no one. I come to you with counsel and a warning. Tiadora has already given you the clay seal. When you break it, she will visit you once more and when she does she will offer to take you to the Agathium. If you do not believe me, then by all means, go. In a way, though you do not trust me, I am trusting you. There is nothing stopping you from betraying me to Cardinal Thorn besides the truth of my warning. No, if I wanted you dead, far easier to do nothing. But you know my warning is true, don't you? You can sense your master's growing distrust of you. Once he appeared to you in person, did he not?. Now he sends only proxies. Why would he do this unless fear of your magnificent power builds up within him? The truth is that he was worried about you since you held the Horn for seven months. That worry turned into genuine fear when you slew Ara-Mathra. And now you are poised to gain the service of Chargammon the Black. Who can blame him for being a little nervous.”
“Even so,” Kelvin said. “What’s in it for you to aid us?”
“I care not one wit which of you rules Talingarde,” Dessiter laughed. “I would see my infernal master restored to the prominence he deserves and I fear that the Cardinal Thorn is no longer capable of the deed. He is beset by doubts and gripped by fears. This is not the manner of an Asmodean conqueror. In you, I see an alternative. In you, my lords, I see a band far stronger than Cardinal Thorn ever was. You will complete Thorn's plan and return Talingarde to the hands of my master. You will be lords of a new realm where my master is honored above all other gods.”
“If you truly think he’s so unworthy,” Tardaesha sneered, “why don’t you just kill him yourself?”
“I am but a lowly servant of my dark master, my lords,” the fiend bowed again. “He has given me much, but he has not seen fit to make me powerful enough to deal with one as mighty as the great Cardinal Adrastus Thorn.”
“You mentioned that Thorn had doubts and fears,” Kelvin said. “About what, exactly?”
“Bronwyn of Balentyne was truly a beauty without compare,” Dessiter replied. “She was so beautiful, she captured the heart of a Cardinal of the Church of Iomedae named Samuel Havelyn. Samuel became obsessed with her and she, alas, fell in love with Samuel's brother, Lord Thomas of Havelyn. Such a tragedy. They had one child before Bronwyn died in child-birth – a son named Richard. That child has now grown to manhood and become a paladin. Cardinal Thorn should be hunting this paladin to the ends of the earth. But he cannot bear to murder his nephew, the last remaining vestige of his beloved Bronwyn's blood. Yes, Cardinal Adrastus Thorn is Samuel Havelyn, and though he never forgave his brother Thomas (even sending you to kill him), he has also never stopped loving Bronwyn. Love clouds his judgment. Love has made him weak. The Paladin threatens our plans. He has left the side of the king and quests to destroy the Tears of Achlys. He rebuilds his band and hunts my master's followers from one end of Talingarde to the other. And yet, Thorn does nothing.”
“So what would you have us do?” Tardaesha asked.
“You honor me, O great lords, by asking my counsel,” Dessiter demurred. “Complete your mission. Slay the King. But refuse the summons. Instead, you must find the Cardinal's heart. Perhaps you have guessed by now, that the Cardinal is not a living man. By the might of my master, he is reborn – a lich. Like all liches, he is bound to a phylactery. While that survives, Thorn is undefeatable. Find it and you will be able to finally defeat the Cardinal. And then you shall be the master.”
“Wait! We signed a contract!” Dakota burst out. “We can't kill Thorn, can we?”
“Ah, yes,” Dessiter frowned. “Now we come to the crux of the matter. It is true that you are bound by the Pact of Thorns. To break an oath to my dark master is a serious matter. Even if there are no repercussions while you live, when you eventually die, well what did the contract say? ‘Let they who violate this compact suffer all the wrath of Hell unending?’ Not pleasant to be sure. But fear not. I have found a loophole.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Kelvin rolled his eyes.
““My lords, know that if it were up to me, I would tell you immediately,” Dessiter grinned evilly. “However, I am bound by my dark lord to first demand a task of you. Within the Adarium is a powerful enemy of my lord – Brigit of the Brijidine. She moves against us. Slay her and then I shall rid you of your burden. When the king and Brigit are dead, we shall speak again. Now, if there is nothing else…?”
“Wait,” Roger spoke for the first time. “There is one more thing…,”
______________________________________________________________________
“So we are in accord then?” Roger asked.
“I have sworn an oath to the terms of your...contract,” the Nameless Tyrant whispered from inside his crystalline prison. “I will tell you the secrets to immortality, and you will release me.”
“Correct,” Roger nodded.
“You must first retrieve an item of great power,” the demi-liche said. “It is called the Onyx Chalice. It will greatly decrease the time it will take to craft your phylactery.”
“And where, exactly, can I find this chalice?” Roger asked
“In the Tomb of the Iron Medusa,” the Tyrant intoned.
_____________________________________________________________________
Chargammon the Black actually laughed...a dark brooding hissing laugh to be sure...but a laugh nonetheless when he looked upon the head of Eiramanthus. Finally, he relented.
“It has been a long time since I have feasted upon the flesh of a princess,” the great wyrm growled. “So be it. Tonight is the new moon. One month hence, at the moonless midnight – I will gorge upon the flesh of House Darius.”
Kelvin bowed.
“We are grateful for your assistance, Mighty Chargammon.”
Chargammon turned then to his son, who was still hiding in the shadows.
“Weak and wretched thing, come forth,” he hissed at Jeratheon.
For a moment, the son actually hesitated, standing up to his sire, but then Chargammon growled and bit Jeratheon upon the raw spot on the neck where he had been chained. Jeratheon yelped in pain and recoiled. Chargammon seized the moment and pounced, pinning his son against the grotto wall. It seemed for a moment that Chargammon might rip his own son's throat out but instead he spoke again.
“You are my greatest failure, my greatest shame. To be captured by filthy birds and rescued by men. I should snap your neck and eat your wretched heart! Death is better than you deserve and it is a mercy I deny you. Instead, I sentence you to a century of servitude. For one hundred years, you shall be slave to the sub-creatures who saved your worthless hide. Obey their every word or I shall see you suffer as you deserve. Get your carcass from my sight!”
Jeratheon finally spoke up,“Father, please! No!”
“You dare speak to me!”
Chargammon lunged at his son and the terrified Jeratheon broke and fled.
Chargammon settled his gaze on the companions.
“He's yours now. Treat him as he deserves and return him to me in a hundred years. Now leave, sub-creatures. Return not to my dominion. I will not spare your lives a third time.”
_______________________________________________________________
Matharyn, the City of Light, was spread across seven hills that overlooked the Danyth River. It was the spiritual heart of all of Talingarde. Over one-hundred thousand souls called it home, and it was this peaceful, thriving, idyllic city that the Nessian Knot sought to destroy and replace with something they insisted could be better.
They had left Jeratheon with their other minions in Davaryn on the way, and entered Matharyn at sunset. Kelvin, Dakota and Tardaesha had disguised themselves so as to appear as ‘alive’ as possible. Baroness Vanya, true to her word, had provided them with a serviceable map of the Adarium, the private sanctum of House Markadian. Katarina was to take the map and scout out the place, then return for her companions, hopefully with a reasonable infiltration plan. The Adarium wasn’t even in Matharyn proper, but instead lay on the other side of Cambrian Bay. It wasn’t the only thing there, however, so a ferry ran regularly across the bay, and it was upon this that Kat began her journey. It was no problem for her to get to the Adarium, but the security was tight and its walls high. Kat watched and waited. Eventually her patience was rewarded when she saw a supply wagon arrive. She quickly climbed aboard and concealed herself amidst the wares, and then was simply carried through the gates.
Kat leaped from the back of the wagon as it passed the grand entrance to the Adarium.
A set of broad marble stairs was flanked on each side by rows of columns supporting a great stone roof. Every conceivable surface was covered by carvings showing both the glory of Iomedae and the great military victories of Markadian I called the Victor.
Massive bronze double-doors more than twelve feet high controlled the entrance to the hall. They were flanked by two everburning torches permanently ensconced that burned a royal blue. The portals were not locked and were perfectly balanced. Kat pushed gently on them and they opened silently. As she crossed the threshold, however, she was seized by a searing pain that ran through her body like an electric current. It passed quickly, but left her shaken. Some sort of warding she guessed. She would have to make sure to warn the others about it. The massive front hall, appointed in regal marble and beautiful bronze fixtures, could have held a great number of guests and entertainers, but sat silent and empty. Two side chambers were both large cloak rooms clearly meant to be have been staffed by a pair of servants. In this time of crisis and royal absence, they were empty. Two elegant spiral staircases lead upstairs to the great dome.
Kat ignored the stairs for the moment, and instead slipped quietly through an archway on the far side of the hall. The large open chamber beyond was accessed by four more beautiful archways that widened it into almost a courthouse. The walls were adorned in stunning blue marble and in the center of the room was a magnificent fountain. Submerged glowing stones radiated subtle shades of pale light that rippled through the flowing water and illuminated the entire chamber in a rainbow of dancing light. Even Kat had to admire its ethereal beauty. A shame they would have to blow it up. Through one archway, Kat could see a guard post manned for four armored knights. They did not see her and she made her way across the chamber and through one of the other arches. She passed through a large side gallery no doubt intended to entertain guests, which was empty and unused. Still, it remained impressive with beautiful friezes carved in Ansgarian marble depicting the faith, wealth and power of the people of Talingarde. The gallery gave onto a room intended for servants to work preparing food and drink for guests. It was largely packed up and empty, but a stout wooden door on the far side led outside. A servants’ entrance. Kat made a mental note.
Beyond the work room was a kitchen and a door from there led Kat straight back into the guard post. The knights never felt so much as a whisper of a breeze as she slipped past them and through the door they were positioned in front of. She found herself in a wide, long passage. The hallway was adorned with countless portraits of members of the House of Darius through the years. There was a painting of the beautiful Princess Bellinda, who looked to Kat to be nothing more than a pretty blonde teenage girl. There were also portraits of the Victor, Markadian II, Markadian IV and the current king. There were a few other pictures that Kat recognized from her knowledge of the local nobility, such as Sir Valin Darian of Farholde, Duke Martin of Daveryn and Bronwyn of Balentyne. Conspicuously absent was any picture of the late queen, Bellinda’s mother. Many doors opened off of the passage, and behind most of them Kat simply found empty guest rooms. However, at the far end, as she listened at one door she could hear the sound of a quill scribbling and pages turning. On a whim, she knocked.
“Yes?” came a voice from the other side.
Kat placed her gloved hands against the door, using their magic to peer beyond it. She saw a middle-aged man dressed in courtier’s finery seated at a writing desk. A thin rapier hung from his hip. She removed her hands and knocked once more.
“If you knock again,” the man called, “I shall blow that door off its hinges!”
To punctuate that, Kat heard the distinct sound of spellcasting, followed by determined footsteps approaching. The door opened abruptly and the man stood there, arcane energy crackling around his fingers. Kat quickly withdrew into the shadows.
She waited several minutes until the man retreated back into his quarters. She crept from her hiding place and moved on down the hall. A bit further, she found an alcove with a small spiral stair leading up to the second floor. She marked it but decided to continue her explorations of the ground level. At the end of the hall, beyond a T-junction, she came to a pair of locked double doors. The lock, though superior, proved little challenge for her. She slipped inside and found herself in an antechamber. On either side were two small guard rooms, both empty. At the opposite end was a fine, brocade curtain. She parted it slightly and peered around. The room beyond was what could only be described as opulent.The main bedchamber was ludicrously gigantic, being larger than many nice homes. There was a personal bathing chamber that included a tub that was big enough to seat four comfortably. Across the chamber stood a locked, sturdy door. Carved above the lintel was a warning:
“He that violates this shrine shall gain nothing but ashes, nothing but death.”
‘And on that note,’ Kat thought to herself, ‘I think we’re done here.’
__________________________________________________________________
Kat returned to the main corridor and then slipped up the spiral stair to the second floor. She found herself in another wide corridor, this one L-shaped and lit at intervals by more magical everburning torches. She paused outside a set of wide double-doors and pressed an ear against one of them. She heard a heavy clanking noise from through, like ponderous footsteps. She placed her gloves upon the door and peered beyond. Inside was what looked to be a spacious council chamber. Patrolling the room were four large creatures that resembled walking pot-bellied stoves, belching smoke and fire.
“None for me, thanks,” Kat muttered.
Most of the other rooms off the hall were unoccupied guest rooms. Behind one door, however, she heard the sound of raucous laughter and heavily accented voices.
“Iraens,” she mused. “Now isn’t that interesting? What strange bedfellows war makes.”
At the end of the hall was another spiral staircase. Kat ascended and found herself in yet another long corridor. The large empty hall connected all the rooms of the third level of the Adarium. Beautifully constructed, the hallway had arched ceilings and murals upon every wall that displayed the glorious history of the rise of the House of Darius. At the far end of the easternmost part of the ‘T' of the hall sat a single suit of what appeared to be massive, empty suit of mithral armor.
“Nope,” Kat whispered. “Not falling for that one.”
She moved quietly into a few of the side rooms, again finding mostly unoccupied guest quarters. At one door she heard laughter again, and language that she did not understand. She peered through it with her gloves and saw a unit of dwarven guardsmen drinking and carousing.
“Hmmm,” she mused. “Lemmy will interested in that.”
At the last door on the hall she bent to listen again. She heard the sounds of whispered prayers. Pressing her gloves against the wood, she saw an elderly man kneeling before a small shrine. Not wanting to draw the attention of the brooding suit of armor, assuming that’s all that it was, Kat wrapped her cloak around her body and instantly transformed into a gray mist that flowed quickly beneath the door. Once on the far side she materialized again, directly behind the old priest. Using the small touch of magic that she knew, she caused the torch in the room to flicker and die. She saw the old man reach for a flask at his belt, but before his feeble hands could grasp it, Kat struck him across the back of the head with a weighty sap. He collapsed in a heap. Kat pulled a heavy sack from her pack and stuffed the priest inside. She knew he would not suffocate, as the extra-dimensional space inside the sack held plenty of air. She secured her prize and then vanished into smoke once more.
__________________________________________________________________
“I’ll tell you nothing, heathen swine!” The old man spat at Tardaesha from where sat bound and naked on a wooden chair.
“Shhhh,” Tardaesha placed a finger to his lips, smiling sweetly. “Just look into my eyes.”
The priest tried to turn his head away, but the petite woman before him had a grip like iron. When he then tried to squeeze his eyes shut, Dakota stood behind them and pried his lids open. He couldn’t resist. He gazed into Tardaesha’s red eyes, and then he was hers.
“Now,” Tardaesha said, drawing back. “Let’s start with your name.”
“Father Isaiah O’Toole,” the priest replied in a monotone, “spiritual advisor to Princess Belinda.”
“Is that so?” Tardaesha grinned. “And where is the dear girl?”
“In her chambers in the Adarium,” Father O’Toole said.
“Who guards her?” Tardaesha asked.
“She has a dwarven honor guard,” O’Toole answered, “and the Sleepless Knight, who stands vigil outside her door.”
“That’s the suit of armor I was telling you about,” Kat said.
“Sir Richard Thomasson, Lord of Havelyn is also her guest,” the priest continued.
“Havelyn?” Dakota asked. “Thorn’s nephew? Didn’t we kill him once?”
“Yes,” Tardaesha said, her eyes cold. “Then his body mysteriously vanished.”
“Ask him about the wizard,” Kat insisted.
“Tell us about the wizard in the Adarium,” Tardaesha commanded.
“Lord Heironymus Thatch,” O’Toole replied. “The court wizard. Very powerful.”
“Is there any way to get past the Sleepless Knight?” Tardaesha asked.
“It will not attack the King, the Princess, myself, Lord Heironymus, nor any of the household guard,” said O’Toole.
“Interesting,” Tardaesha mused. “Well then. I think it’s time we return to the Adarium. You will accompany us, my good priest. After all, it would be rude to enter the King’s home uninvited.”
“Who…what are you?” Roger asked the disembodied skull
“I no longer remember who I was once was,” the skull hissed. “For as long as I can remember I have been called by others The Nameless Tyrant.”
“Never heard of you,” Kelvin said in a bored tone. “So what is it exactly that you are offering in exchange for your freedom?”
“The secret to life eternal,” the Tyrant repeated.
“That’s very vague,” Kelvin said. “I and my two sisters have already discovered that secret. What more is there to know?”
“Vampires,” the Tyrant hissed derisively. “Bloodsuckers. You are weak. You cannot walk in the light of day. You fear the trappings of the holy, smelly herbs and shiny trinkets. You do not know true freedom. The secrets that I hold are so much more.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe you,” Kelvin said. “We’ll think about it. Tardaesha, put him in the hole.”
As the skull protested, Tardaesha unfolded a black cloth on the floor, revealing an extra- dimensional pit. He tossed the jar in and then refolded the hole.
Once they’d gathered up the remainder of Eiramanthus’s horde, the companions set about exploring the rest of the tower. The floor above the chess board was filled with a library beyond imagining. An inscription over the lintel read: “Touching a dragon's library without permission is HARMFUL to your health.”
“That could be just a general statement,” Kelvin mused, “or it could be an actual warning.”
He extended one hand and closed his eyes for a moment.
“I sense necromantic energy here,” he said. “Kat, see what you can find.”
Katarina rolled her eyes, but slipped into the chamber, muttering under her breath.
“Seems to me like the people who are already dead should be the ones testing out the necromancy theory.”
She moved among the books for several minutes until at last she found what she was looking for.
“There,” she said, turning to Kelvin. “There’s some sort of magical ward centered there.”
“I’ve got it from here,” Kelvin said as he entered the room. “Time for the living to make themselves scarce.”
As Kat walked out, Kelvin reached out and pulled a book from one of the shelves. Instantly he felt himself blasted by necromantic energy…a blast that would have certainly killed him if he’d not already been dead. Instead he just felt invigorated.
“Lovely,” he smiled.
The library would take time to catalog, and the others wanted to make sure there were no more of the dragon’s minions around waiting to ambush them, so Kelvin accompanied them further up the tower. The next level was given over to a musty, cramped archive filled almost beyond reason with countless strange texts and tomes. Standing amongst the stacks was an individual draped in a great robe and hood made of some otherworldly fabric. What was immediately apparent was that the creature was not any familiar race, featuring four arms and translucent grey skin.
“Ah…hello there,” Tardaesha called out.
The creature did not look up from the tome it held in its hands, but did reply in an unintelligible language. Tardaesha looked at Knick-Knack
“See if you communicate telepathically,” she said.
The little cacodaemon closed his eyes and concentrated for a few moments.
“It say it does research,” Knick-Knack said when he opened his eyes again.
“I think I recognize its race,” Kelvin said. “It looks like a witchwyrd, though I’ve never heard of one having four arms. Let me give this a try.”
He cleared his throat, and then spoke in a soothing, sing-song language.
“Who are you?” Kelvin asked. “Why are you here?”
The creature answered with a noise like a whistle, followed by many clicks.
“But you can just call me the Visitor,” it chuckled. “I was given permission by the dragon to come here and peruse his books. I believe at last I have found a solution to Vargat (more whistling)'s conundrum. The transpositioning of irradiant vectors is transcendentally possible! You see, its been here right before us all along. Consider the Halooth and Vandrissial Vorniths. Child's play I know. But when considered in the light of this text by (much throating clearing) then see, it is possible to conceptualize the fundamental axes of eternity. You need only frombotz the kintoozler.”
“I see,” Kelvin nodded, not understanding a word. “Well, Eiramanthus was called away unexpectedly and may not return for a couple of centuries. He left the library in our keeping. Would you be interested in purchasing it?”
At this the Visitor did look up.
“Purchase?” it asked. “Would Eiramanthus approve of such a thing?”
“Oh he’s read all of these hundreds of times,” Kelvin waved dismissively. “He’s grown bored with them. I’m sure he’ll accumulate many more on his travels. So what would you say to…50,000?”
“A bargain,” the Visitor smiled. “A pleasure doing business with you.”
___________________________________________________________________
While Kelvin remained behind to help the Visitor catalog his new library, Grumblejack, Roger and Lemmy set off to search the rest of the island for any survivors. As they flew over one of the crystalline gardens, six winged figures rose up from below to intercept them. The creatures were larger than a man, and their bodies seemed to made of the same crystal that formed the garden. They had four arms and sported a pair of curving horns upon their brows. Immediately the trio wheeled about and flew quickly back towards the dragon’s dome, the gargoyles in close pursuit behind them. Grumblejack reached the dome first.
“We’ve got company,” he said when he found Dakota and Tardaesha.
“Leave them to me,” Tardaesha smiled.
Tardaesha exited the dome disguised as a nun of Iomedae, thanks to the circlet Thorn had given her.
“Greetings travelers,” she called to the gargoyles as they circled above her. “How can we be of service?”
“You trespass here,” one of the gargoyles rumbled. “You must leave now!”
“We are on official business for the Church,” Tardaesha replied, spreading her hands innocently. “Eiramanthus requested our presence here.”
“The Master introduces all of his guest to us,” the gargoyle growled. “We are the caretakers. We will take you before him now to confirm your tale.”
“Of course,” Tardaesha grinned.
As the gargoyles prepared to land, Lemmy sent a blast of rock, soil and mud at the nearest one, entangling it in the debris. Grumblejack stepped in front of another and swung his sword with all of his prodigious strength. The thing shattered like a glass window beneath the impact. From a high window above, Kelvin hurled lightning down upon the guardians. As they tried to leap away from the bolts, Tardaesha seized one of them by the throat and began draining the life out of it through her undead touch. Just before it expired, she plunged her sword through its heart. The remaining gargoyles charged, and one managed to rip into Roger with it’s crystal claws, while another lowered its head and gored Grumblejack in the belly. That was their last gambit. Roger, Lemmy and Grumblejack closed in on them in a killing circle and made short work of them.
_____________________________________________________________
As the companions swept the remainder of the island, Lemmy came upon a strange, trisymmetrical creature calmly munching on crystal in one of the gardens. As the dwarf approached, prepared to dispatch the odd little monster, it surprised him by speaking.
“Ah,” it said in a deep, gravelly growl, “have you come to fetch me for my audience with Eiramanthus?”
“Er…,” Lemmy stammered, “remind me what you were here fer again?”
“Of course,” the creature said politely. “I am Xkr'Xkz'Xko, but you may call me Xekar. I am ambassador for King Bokkakamandu CXLVII Hide-Red-As-Rubies, of the Xorn. I have come here to find out if it is true, that within the hoard of Eiramanthus is to be found the fabled Jundarian Stone, and if so what can be done to acquire the treasure.”
“Huh,” Lemmy grunted. “Might be. What’s it look like?”
“To your eyes, not like much,” Xekar admitted. “Not much more than a large piece of obsidian.”
“What’s it do?” Lemmy pressed.
“The Jundarian Stone is a religious artifact of the Xorn,” Xekar explained. “It is a chip of the original great world-mountain from which the elemental plane of earth was born. The Xorn believe that if all the lost stones of the Earth-Mountain can be reassembled, a new golden age of xornic glory will begin. The stone was stolen from us by the Shai-tan, wicked free-willed spirits of the earth. Eiramanthus supposedly won it in a game of riddles with a particularly ingratious Shaitan Noble whom the dragon later ended up having to slay in self-defense to claim this isle.”
“Fascinating,” Lemmy said sarcastically. “So how much is it worth to you?”
Xekar produced a pouch of flawless rubies.
“Is this enough?”
“I think that’ll just about do it,” Lemmy grinned.
_________________________________________________________________
As the Ninth Knot made one last sweep through the dragon’s dome before departing, they were surprised to hear the sound of a single pair of hands clapping, the noise echoing and resounding through the great hall.
“My lords, ‘tis well done,” a voice called out. “You are once more victorious. It is a shame that your victory will be so short lived.”
The companions turned, tensing for another battle, only to see the contract devil Dessiter emerge from the shadows.
“We have no time for your riddles, barrister,” Kelvin grumbled. “What are you going on about?”
“It is my sad and unwelcome duty to report that you are betrayed,” Dessiter replied, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. “When this mission is complete, I know for certain that you will receive an invitation to visit Cardinal Thorn in his secret fortress far to the north. He named it the Agathium, the place of agony, in parody of the great palace of the House of Darius – the Adarium. He will summon you to his throne and there he will destroy you.”
“And why would he do that?” Tardaesha asked skeptically.
“Paranoia has seized his mind and driven the Cardinal to madness,” the devil said. “He has grown to fear you. He is terrified that you rise too quickly and someday soon you will supplant him. With every victory, with every deed, he sees the future more and more clearly. It is a future where he is no longer master of the Knot of Thorns.”
“How did you come by this information?” Kelvin asked, his eyes narrowed.
“I have heard it from the lips of the master himself,” Dessiter shrugged. “Even now, he sets the trap. If you go to the Agathium at my dear sister's invitation, you will die.”
“Your sister?” Tardaesha asked.
“Tiadora,” Dessiter smiled. “We share a bond ... uncommon amongst devils.”
“So she has turned against us as well?” Tardaesha snapped.
“Tiadora is bound by spell and oath to the master,” Dessiter said matter-of-factly. “As long as he lives and possesses control of her, she will do his bidding. I doubt she bears you any true malice. She is simply following orders. But if you could free her from Thorn, she would be a useful ally.”
“You’ll forgive me,” Kelvin interjected, “but you must admit that this ‘revelation’ is awfully specific and convenient. Why should we trust you?”
“A just question, my lords,” Dessiter bowed. “In this time of treachery and dark maneuvering, you should trust no one. I come to you with counsel and a warning. Tiadora has already given you the clay seal. When you break it, she will visit you once more and when she does she will offer to take you to the Agathium. If you do not believe me, then by all means, go. In a way, though you do not trust me, I am trusting you. There is nothing stopping you from betraying me to Cardinal Thorn besides the truth of my warning. No, if I wanted you dead, far easier to do nothing. But you know my warning is true, don't you? You can sense your master's growing distrust of you. Once he appeared to you in person, did he not?. Now he sends only proxies. Why would he do this unless fear of your magnificent power builds up within him? The truth is that he was worried about you since you held the Horn for seven months. That worry turned into genuine fear when you slew Ara-Mathra. And now you are poised to gain the service of Chargammon the Black. Who can blame him for being a little nervous.”
“Even so,” Kelvin said. “What’s in it for you to aid us?”
“I care not one wit which of you rules Talingarde,” Dessiter laughed. “I would see my infernal master restored to the prominence he deserves and I fear that the Cardinal Thorn is no longer capable of the deed. He is beset by doubts and gripped by fears. This is not the manner of an Asmodean conqueror. In you, I see an alternative. In you, my lords, I see a band far stronger than Cardinal Thorn ever was. You will complete Thorn's plan and return Talingarde to the hands of my master. You will be lords of a new realm where my master is honored above all other gods.”
“If you truly think he’s so unworthy,” Tardaesha sneered, “why don’t you just kill him yourself?”
“I am but a lowly servant of my dark master, my lords,” the fiend bowed again. “He has given me much, but he has not seen fit to make me powerful enough to deal with one as mighty as the great Cardinal Adrastus Thorn.”
“You mentioned that Thorn had doubts and fears,” Kelvin said. “About what, exactly?”
“Bronwyn of Balentyne was truly a beauty without compare,” Dessiter replied. “She was so beautiful, she captured the heart of a Cardinal of the Church of Iomedae named Samuel Havelyn. Samuel became obsessed with her and she, alas, fell in love with Samuel's brother, Lord Thomas of Havelyn. Such a tragedy. They had one child before Bronwyn died in child-birth – a son named Richard. That child has now grown to manhood and become a paladin. Cardinal Thorn should be hunting this paladin to the ends of the earth. But he cannot bear to murder his nephew, the last remaining vestige of his beloved Bronwyn's blood. Yes, Cardinal Adrastus Thorn is Samuel Havelyn, and though he never forgave his brother Thomas (even sending you to kill him), he has also never stopped loving Bronwyn. Love clouds his judgment. Love has made him weak. The Paladin threatens our plans. He has left the side of the king and quests to destroy the Tears of Achlys. He rebuilds his band and hunts my master's followers from one end of Talingarde to the other. And yet, Thorn does nothing.”
“So what would you have us do?” Tardaesha asked.
“You honor me, O great lords, by asking my counsel,” Dessiter demurred. “Complete your mission. Slay the King. But refuse the summons. Instead, you must find the Cardinal's heart. Perhaps you have guessed by now, that the Cardinal is not a living man. By the might of my master, he is reborn – a lich. Like all liches, he is bound to a phylactery. While that survives, Thorn is undefeatable. Find it and you will be able to finally defeat the Cardinal. And then you shall be the master.”
“Wait! We signed a contract!” Dakota burst out. “We can't kill Thorn, can we?”
“Ah, yes,” Dessiter frowned. “Now we come to the crux of the matter. It is true that you are bound by the Pact of Thorns. To break an oath to my dark master is a serious matter. Even if there are no repercussions while you live, when you eventually die, well what did the contract say? ‘Let they who violate this compact suffer all the wrath of Hell unending?’ Not pleasant to be sure. But fear not. I have found a loophole.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Kelvin rolled his eyes.
““My lords, know that if it were up to me, I would tell you immediately,” Dessiter grinned evilly. “However, I am bound by my dark lord to first demand a task of you. Within the Adarium is a powerful enemy of my lord – Brigit of the Brijidine. She moves against us. Slay her and then I shall rid you of your burden. When the king and Brigit are dead, we shall speak again. Now, if there is nothing else…?”
“Wait,” Roger spoke for the first time. “There is one more thing…,”
______________________________________________________________________
“So we are in accord then?” Roger asked.
“I have sworn an oath to the terms of your...contract,” the Nameless Tyrant whispered from inside his crystalline prison. “I will tell you the secrets to immortality, and you will release me.”
“Correct,” Roger nodded.
“You must first retrieve an item of great power,” the demi-liche said. “It is called the Onyx Chalice. It will greatly decrease the time it will take to craft your phylactery.”
“And where, exactly, can I find this chalice?” Roger asked
“In the Tomb of the Iron Medusa,” the Tyrant intoned.
_____________________________________________________________________
Chargammon the Black actually laughed...a dark brooding hissing laugh to be sure...but a laugh nonetheless when he looked upon the head of Eiramanthus. Finally, he relented.
“It has been a long time since I have feasted upon the flesh of a princess,” the great wyrm growled. “So be it. Tonight is the new moon. One month hence, at the moonless midnight – I will gorge upon the flesh of House Darius.”
Kelvin bowed.
“We are grateful for your assistance, Mighty Chargammon.”
Chargammon turned then to his son, who was still hiding in the shadows.
“Weak and wretched thing, come forth,” he hissed at Jeratheon.
For a moment, the son actually hesitated, standing up to his sire, but then Chargammon growled and bit Jeratheon upon the raw spot on the neck where he had been chained. Jeratheon yelped in pain and recoiled. Chargammon seized the moment and pounced, pinning his son against the grotto wall. It seemed for a moment that Chargammon might rip his own son's throat out but instead he spoke again.
“You are my greatest failure, my greatest shame. To be captured by filthy birds and rescued by men. I should snap your neck and eat your wretched heart! Death is better than you deserve and it is a mercy I deny you. Instead, I sentence you to a century of servitude. For one hundred years, you shall be slave to the sub-creatures who saved your worthless hide. Obey their every word or I shall see you suffer as you deserve. Get your carcass from my sight!”
Jeratheon finally spoke up,“Father, please! No!”
“You dare speak to me!”
Chargammon lunged at his son and the terrified Jeratheon broke and fled.
Chargammon settled his gaze on the companions.
“He's yours now. Treat him as he deserves and return him to me in a hundred years. Now leave, sub-creatures. Return not to my dominion. I will not spare your lives a third time.”
_______________________________________________________________
Matharyn, the City of Light, was spread across seven hills that overlooked the Danyth River. It was the spiritual heart of all of Talingarde. Over one-hundred thousand souls called it home, and it was this peaceful, thriving, idyllic city that the Nessian Knot sought to destroy and replace with something they insisted could be better.
They had left Jeratheon with their other minions in Davaryn on the way, and entered Matharyn at sunset. Kelvin, Dakota and Tardaesha had disguised themselves so as to appear as ‘alive’ as possible. Baroness Vanya, true to her word, had provided them with a serviceable map of the Adarium, the private sanctum of House Markadian. Katarina was to take the map and scout out the place, then return for her companions, hopefully with a reasonable infiltration plan. The Adarium wasn’t even in Matharyn proper, but instead lay on the other side of Cambrian Bay. It wasn’t the only thing there, however, so a ferry ran regularly across the bay, and it was upon this that Kat began her journey. It was no problem for her to get to the Adarium, but the security was tight and its walls high. Kat watched and waited. Eventually her patience was rewarded when she saw a supply wagon arrive. She quickly climbed aboard and concealed herself amidst the wares, and then was simply carried through the gates.
Kat leaped from the back of the wagon as it passed the grand entrance to the Adarium.
A set of broad marble stairs was flanked on each side by rows of columns supporting a great stone roof. Every conceivable surface was covered by carvings showing both the glory of Iomedae and the great military victories of Markadian I called the Victor.
Massive bronze double-doors more than twelve feet high controlled the entrance to the hall. They were flanked by two everburning torches permanently ensconced that burned a royal blue. The portals were not locked and were perfectly balanced. Kat pushed gently on them and they opened silently. As she crossed the threshold, however, she was seized by a searing pain that ran through her body like an electric current. It passed quickly, but left her shaken. Some sort of warding she guessed. She would have to make sure to warn the others about it. The massive front hall, appointed in regal marble and beautiful bronze fixtures, could have held a great number of guests and entertainers, but sat silent and empty. Two side chambers were both large cloak rooms clearly meant to be have been staffed by a pair of servants. In this time of crisis and royal absence, they were empty. Two elegant spiral staircases lead upstairs to the great dome.
Kat ignored the stairs for the moment, and instead slipped quietly through an archway on the far side of the hall. The large open chamber beyond was accessed by four more beautiful archways that widened it into almost a courthouse. The walls were adorned in stunning blue marble and in the center of the room was a magnificent fountain. Submerged glowing stones radiated subtle shades of pale light that rippled through the flowing water and illuminated the entire chamber in a rainbow of dancing light. Even Kat had to admire its ethereal beauty. A shame they would have to blow it up. Through one archway, Kat could see a guard post manned for four armored knights. They did not see her and she made her way across the chamber and through one of the other arches. She passed through a large side gallery no doubt intended to entertain guests, which was empty and unused. Still, it remained impressive with beautiful friezes carved in Ansgarian marble depicting the faith, wealth and power of the people of Talingarde. The gallery gave onto a room intended for servants to work preparing food and drink for guests. It was largely packed up and empty, but a stout wooden door on the far side led outside. A servants’ entrance. Kat made a mental note.
Beyond the work room was a kitchen and a door from there led Kat straight back into the guard post. The knights never felt so much as a whisper of a breeze as she slipped past them and through the door they were positioned in front of. She found herself in a wide, long passage. The hallway was adorned with countless portraits of members of the House of Darius through the years. There was a painting of the beautiful Princess Bellinda, who looked to Kat to be nothing more than a pretty blonde teenage girl. There were also portraits of the Victor, Markadian II, Markadian IV and the current king. There were a few other pictures that Kat recognized from her knowledge of the local nobility, such as Sir Valin Darian of Farholde, Duke Martin of Daveryn and Bronwyn of Balentyne. Conspicuously absent was any picture of the late queen, Bellinda’s mother. Many doors opened off of the passage, and behind most of them Kat simply found empty guest rooms. However, at the far end, as she listened at one door she could hear the sound of a quill scribbling and pages turning. On a whim, she knocked.
“Yes?” came a voice from the other side.
Kat placed her gloved hands against the door, using their magic to peer beyond it. She saw a middle-aged man dressed in courtier’s finery seated at a writing desk. A thin rapier hung from his hip. She removed her hands and knocked once more.
“If you knock again,” the man called, “I shall blow that door off its hinges!”
To punctuate that, Kat heard the distinct sound of spellcasting, followed by determined footsteps approaching. The door opened abruptly and the man stood there, arcane energy crackling around his fingers. Kat quickly withdrew into the shadows.
She waited several minutes until the man retreated back into his quarters. She crept from her hiding place and moved on down the hall. A bit further, she found an alcove with a small spiral stair leading up to the second floor. She marked it but decided to continue her explorations of the ground level. At the end of the hall, beyond a T-junction, she came to a pair of locked double doors. The lock, though superior, proved little challenge for her. She slipped inside and found herself in an antechamber. On either side were two small guard rooms, both empty. At the opposite end was a fine, brocade curtain. She parted it slightly and peered around. The room beyond was what could only be described as opulent.The main bedchamber was ludicrously gigantic, being larger than many nice homes. There was a personal bathing chamber that included a tub that was big enough to seat four comfortably. Across the chamber stood a locked, sturdy door. Carved above the lintel was a warning:
“He that violates this shrine shall gain nothing but ashes, nothing but death.”
‘And on that note,’ Kat thought to herself, ‘I think we’re done here.’
__________________________________________________________________
Kat returned to the main corridor and then slipped up the spiral stair to the second floor. She found herself in another wide corridor, this one L-shaped and lit at intervals by more magical everburning torches. She paused outside a set of wide double-doors and pressed an ear against one of them. She heard a heavy clanking noise from through, like ponderous footsteps. She placed her gloves upon the door and peered beyond. Inside was what looked to be a spacious council chamber. Patrolling the room were four large creatures that resembled walking pot-bellied stoves, belching smoke and fire.
“None for me, thanks,” Kat muttered.
Most of the other rooms off the hall were unoccupied guest rooms. Behind one door, however, she heard the sound of raucous laughter and heavily accented voices.
“Iraens,” she mused. “Now isn’t that interesting? What strange bedfellows war makes.”
At the end of the hall was another spiral staircase. Kat ascended and found herself in yet another long corridor. The large empty hall connected all the rooms of the third level of the Adarium. Beautifully constructed, the hallway had arched ceilings and murals upon every wall that displayed the glorious history of the rise of the House of Darius. At the far end of the easternmost part of the ‘T' of the hall sat a single suit of what appeared to be massive, empty suit of mithral armor.
“Nope,” Kat whispered. “Not falling for that one.”
She moved quietly into a few of the side rooms, again finding mostly unoccupied guest quarters. At one door she heard laughter again, and language that she did not understand. She peered through it with her gloves and saw a unit of dwarven guardsmen drinking and carousing.
“Hmmm,” she mused. “Lemmy will interested in that.”
At the last door on the hall she bent to listen again. She heard the sounds of whispered prayers. Pressing her gloves against the wood, she saw an elderly man kneeling before a small shrine. Not wanting to draw the attention of the brooding suit of armor, assuming that’s all that it was, Kat wrapped her cloak around her body and instantly transformed into a gray mist that flowed quickly beneath the door. Once on the far side she materialized again, directly behind the old priest. Using the small touch of magic that she knew, she caused the torch in the room to flicker and die. She saw the old man reach for a flask at his belt, but before his feeble hands could grasp it, Kat struck him across the back of the head with a weighty sap. He collapsed in a heap. Kat pulled a heavy sack from her pack and stuffed the priest inside. She knew he would not suffocate, as the extra-dimensional space inside the sack held plenty of air. She secured her prize and then vanished into smoke once more.
__________________________________________________________________
“I’ll tell you nothing, heathen swine!” The old man spat at Tardaesha from where sat bound and naked on a wooden chair.
“Shhhh,” Tardaesha placed a finger to his lips, smiling sweetly. “Just look into my eyes.”
The priest tried to turn his head away, but the petite woman before him had a grip like iron. When he then tried to squeeze his eyes shut, Dakota stood behind them and pried his lids open. He couldn’t resist. He gazed into Tardaesha’s red eyes, and then he was hers.
“Now,” Tardaesha said, drawing back. “Let’s start with your name.”
“Father Isaiah O’Toole,” the priest replied in a monotone, “spiritual advisor to Princess Belinda.”
“Is that so?” Tardaesha grinned. “And where is the dear girl?”
“In her chambers in the Adarium,” Father O’Toole said.
“Who guards her?” Tardaesha asked.
“She has a dwarven honor guard,” O’Toole answered, “and the Sleepless Knight, who stands vigil outside her door.”
“That’s the suit of armor I was telling you about,” Kat said.
“Sir Richard Thomasson, Lord of Havelyn is also her guest,” the priest continued.
“Havelyn?” Dakota asked. “Thorn’s nephew? Didn’t we kill him once?”
“Yes,” Tardaesha said, her eyes cold. “Then his body mysteriously vanished.”
“Ask him about the wizard,” Kat insisted.
“Tell us about the wizard in the Adarium,” Tardaesha commanded.
“Lord Heironymus Thatch,” O’Toole replied. “The court wizard. Very powerful.”
“Is there any way to get past the Sleepless Knight?” Tardaesha asked.
“It will not attack the King, the Princess, myself, Lord Heironymus, nor any of the household guard,” said O’Toole.
“Interesting,” Tardaesha mused. “Well then. I think it’s time we return to the Adarium. You will accompany us, my good priest. After all, it would be rude to enter the King’s home uninvited.”
JollyDoc
Explorer
15 Desnus, 4718 - Blood Ties
The new moon rose one week after Kat’s scouting mission to the Adarium. Tardaesha had sent Father O’Toole, still firmly under her control, back to the keep so as not to arouse suspicion. Before he had departed, however, the vampires of the Knot had secured an invitation to the Adarium from him, and he had also disclosed the pass phrase to bypass the forbidding that warded it.
When the night of Chargammon’s impending arrival finally came, the Nessian Knot made their way to the Adarium cloaked in silence and invisibility courtesy of Kelvin. Kat led them to the outside wall of the king’s bedchamber, and there Kelvin cast a spell that created a temporary hole in the barrier. The companions darted through and the hole vanished behind them. Kat was eager to investigate the locked room with the warning inscription above it’s door now that her friends were with her.
“There will be time for that later,” Kelvin snapped. “We are on a time table, and I want that wizard eliminated!”
Kat pouted, but followed her brother’s lead. They slipped quietly into the hallway outside the royal quarters and assembled before the door where Kat had seen the wizard.
“Are you ready?” Kelvin asked Roger.
The big half-orc nodded. He could not reply, since he had cloaked himself in a second silence spell, one that would move with him. Kat picked the lock and swung the door open, and Roger charged in. Heironymous Thatch never heard him coming. Roger struck the wizard, knocking from his chair and sending him sprawling to the floor. Shocked and dazed, Heironymous tried to get to his feet, but Lemmy blasted him with shards of sharpened rock. Bleeding and barely conscious, he tried to rise again, but three point-blank shots from Dakota pinned him to the wall, ceasing his struggles for good.
Kat tossed the room quickly and turned up little of value, but she did find a small journal concealed in a drawer of the desk. Mostly filled with pedantic nonsense of no interest, it did have one interesting line:
“Why am I here? The princess needs no instruction with magic! Such power! How could a nineteen year old girl wield such might?”
Kelvin read the line several times.
“I’m going to warn Chargammon,” he said at last.
He cast a sending spell, which allowed him to speak briefly across the miles with the great wyrm.
“The princess may be more than she appears,” he said. “Be on your guard and prepared for anything.”
“I always am,” came the disdainful reply. “Do not trouble me with your petty concerns. She will die as all your kind does...screaming.”
_____________________________________________________________________
“We take out the Iraen’s next,” Tardaesha said. “They’re not known for their loyalty to House Darius, but I also don’t imagine they harbor any love for dragons. Why take chances?”
Kat led the group upstairs to the guest quarters where she’d heard the Iraens. A week had passed, and for all she knew, the barbarians may have already returned to the north. When she listened at the door, however, she again heard their guttural language amidst laughter and song. Kat held up a finger, motioning for her companions to wait and be silent. Then she flashed all ten fingers, meaning they should give her ten seconds before entering. She enfolded herself in her cloak and vanished into smoke before seeping under the door. She quickly passed through the room with the eight Iraen hunters and then under another door at the far side. She had hoped it was empty so that she might set up a flanking position when her friends entered. She was not so lucky.
Dakota slammed a boot into the door, smashing it open. Lemmy dashed past her and began blasting anything that moved. Dak stayed at the door, leaning around the edge and picking her targets. Kelvin leaned in from the other side and sent a multi-colored spray of light into the room, As the beams struck the barbarians, the effects were as varied as they were deadly. Several caught fire, while others jittered with electricity. A few began roaring with rage and then turned upon their own brethren.
Kat found herself alone with a tall, red-haired half-elven woman, whose body was covered in intricate tattoos. She looked decidedly dangerous. The priestess didn’t seem to have noticed Kat’s presence, even after she’d resumed her corporeal form. Kat took advantage of that. She moved silently up behind the woman and drove a dagger into her back. The priestess merely grunted as she turned. Kat drew back, eyes wide, as the woman’s form began to shift and change. The temperature in the small room began to rise dramatically. Within seconds the priestess had become a living column of flame!
Roger crossed blades with several of the warriors, driving them back before his fearsome onslaught, while Lemmy continued to hurl kinetic blasts to deadly effect. Suddenly, the inner door blew open and a huge creature composed of flame lumbered into the room. The priestess raised her fiery hands above her and summoned her druidic magic. A wave of power washed over the room, sucking moisture from the living members of the Knot, leaving their mouths parched and their eyes as dry as sand. Kat came behind the priestess, still stabbing with her dagger but having little effect. Then Kelvin pointed one finger at the elemental and sent a spear of solid ice through her chest. She collapsed to one knee, transforming back into her true form before falling to the floor. The remaining Iraens looked on in dismay as their priestess fell. They didn’t have long to grieve before the Nessian Knot sent them to rejoin their leader.
________________________________________________________________
Kat led her friends back to the ground floor and towards the guard post she’d observed earlier. There was no sense leaving any potential opposition for Chargammon if they didn’t absolutely have to. As the Knot approached the post, they disguised themselves as Iraens to avoid suspicion. The guards nodded as they passed, but when Dakota made to move through, one of them reached out and seized her by the arm.
“Just a minute, Miss,” the knight said. “I don’t recognize you. Where did you come from?”
Dakota looked the man in the eye, her own flashing momentarily red.
‘You will let me pass,’ her voice spoke into his mind.
“You can pass,” the knight nodded.
“Wait,” another Knight spoke up. “What’s the matter with you, Jordan? You know that’s not protocol.”
“It is now,” Kelvin replied, locking his gaze on the guard’s.
“Of course it is,” the knight acquiesced.
Before the remaining two guards could react, Dakota and Tardaesha dominated them as well.
“Now then,” Kelvin instructed. “It’s been a long night. Your relief will be here any moment. Why don’t you lot stand down for the evening.”
“Standing down,” they said in unison, saluting as they turned on their heels and left the Adarium.
___________________________________________________________________
“What’s up there?” Tardaesha asked Kat, pointing towards the stairs on the far side of the entry foyer.
“I never looked,” Kat shrugged. “Just guessed it was the upper level of the portico.”
Tardaesha rolled her eyes.
“C’mon then,” she said. “We’re not going to leave some potential enemy behind us to stab us in the back.’
Two spiral staircases led to an open chamber divided by a ten-feet high partition. The great dome itself rose more than eighty feet and was adorned with stained glass windows that honored Darius and Iomedae. It seemed more like a cathedral than a gathering place for royalty and their courtiers. But in that time of war and worry, there were no courtiers nor social functions. Instead, it was empty and quiet. That is except for a powerfully built angel who sat upon the king's throne. He spoke as the villains entered.
“I've waited for you. My brother said your road of woe and wickedness would lead you here. My name is Ara Zandra. You banished my brother from the world he sacrificed so much for. Your journey ends here upon the throne you would steal. Righteous vengeance is mine!”
And with that, the angel attacked.
As Ara Zandra swooped towards them, Dakota raised her bow and shot him once in the chest. He did not pause. Instead, as he drew closer, a blinding radiance emanated from his body. Kat shrieked and covered her eyes too late. They felt like they’d been burned out of their sockets. The light burned and seared the flesh of all of them, especially the vampires. Kelvin quickly cast a spell, and a huge, disembodied hand appeared before the angel, blocking him from approaching any closer. Dakota shot him twice more as he struggled to circumvent the spell. Roger and Grumblejack closed in, trying to shield their eyes. The angel easily battered Roger aside with a blazing sword that suddenly appeared in his hands. He then drove it into Grumblejack, causing the fiendish ogre to stagger backwards,
“Vengeance!” Ara Zandra shouted.
“Is all mine,” Dakota hissed.
She fired a volley of three more arrows, all of them striking the angel in the throat. He gurgled and clutched at the shafts, his sword vanishing as he dropped it. His eyes blazed golden for a moment and then went dark as he dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap.
As Roger picked himself up from the ground, he felt a familiar tug in his mind and from his hand. Helbrand. The sword was trying to communicate with him again. It’s point dipped of its own volition and pointed towards the throne. When he reached it, he found himself involuntarily raising the sword and then smashing the old throne to splinters. Hidden among the shards was a gleaming, obsidian hilt. Roger bent to retrieve it and then easily snapped it into place upon Helbrand. Instantly, a voice spoke to him.
“The blade thanks the master who has awoken it. Together the master and the blade will write their names in blood upon the pages of history.”
Roger smiled grimly
The new moon rose one week after Kat’s scouting mission to the Adarium. Tardaesha had sent Father O’Toole, still firmly under her control, back to the keep so as not to arouse suspicion. Before he had departed, however, the vampires of the Knot had secured an invitation to the Adarium from him, and he had also disclosed the pass phrase to bypass the forbidding that warded it.
When the night of Chargammon’s impending arrival finally came, the Nessian Knot made their way to the Adarium cloaked in silence and invisibility courtesy of Kelvin. Kat led them to the outside wall of the king’s bedchamber, and there Kelvin cast a spell that created a temporary hole in the barrier. The companions darted through and the hole vanished behind them. Kat was eager to investigate the locked room with the warning inscription above it’s door now that her friends were with her.
“There will be time for that later,” Kelvin snapped. “We are on a time table, and I want that wizard eliminated!”
Kat pouted, but followed her brother’s lead. They slipped quietly into the hallway outside the royal quarters and assembled before the door where Kat had seen the wizard.
“Are you ready?” Kelvin asked Roger.
The big half-orc nodded. He could not reply, since he had cloaked himself in a second silence spell, one that would move with him. Kat picked the lock and swung the door open, and Roger charged in. Heironymous Thatch never heard him coming. Roger struck the wizard, knocking from his chair and sending him sprawling to the floor. Shocked and dazed, Heironymous tried to get to his feet, but Lemmy blasted him with shards of sharpened rock. Bleeding and barely conscious, he tried to rise again, but three point-blank shots from Dakota pinned him to the wall, ceasing his struggles for good.
Kat tossed the room quickly and turned up little of value, but she did find a small journal concealed in a drawer of the desk. Mostly filled with pedantic nonsense of no interest, it did have one interesting line:
“Why am I here? The princess needs no instruction with magic! Such power! How could a nineteen year old girl wield such might?”
Kelvin read the line several times.
“I’m going to warn Chargammon,” he said at last.
He cast a sending spell, which allowed him to speak briefly across the miles with the great wyrm.
“The princess may be more than she appears,” he said. “Be on your guard and prepared for anything.”
“I always am,” came the disdainful reply. “Do not trouble me with your petty concerns. She will die as all your kind does...screaming.”
_____________________________________________________________________
“We take out the Iraen’s next,” Tardaesha said. “They’re not known for their loyalty to House Darius, but I also don’t imagine they harbor any love for dragons. Why take chances?”
Kat led the group upstairs to the guest quarters where she’d heard the Iraens. A week had passed, and for all she knew, the barbarians may have already returned to the north. When she listened at the door, however, she again heard their guttural language amidst laughter and song. Kat held up a finger, motioning for her companions to wait and be silent. Then she flashed all ten fingers, meaning they should give her ten seconds before entering. She enfolded herself in her cloak and vanished into smoke before seeping under the door. She quickly passed through the room with the eight Iraen hunters and then under another door at the far side. She had hoped it was empty so that she might set up a flanking position when her friends entered. She was not so lucky.
Dakota slammed a boot into the door, smashing it open. Lemmy dashed past her and began blasting anything that moved. Dak stayed at the door, leaning around the edge and picking her targets. Kelvin leaned in from the other side and sent a multi-colored spray of light into the room, As the beams struck the barbarians, the effects were as varied as they were deadly. Several caught fire, while others jittered with electricity. A few began roaring with rage and then turned upon their own brethren.
Kat found herself alone with a tall, red-haired half-elven woman, whose body was covered in intricate tattoos. She looked decidedly dangerous. The priestess didn’t seem to have noticed Kat’s presence, even after she’d resumed her corporeal form. Kat took advantage of that. She moved silently up behind the woman and drove a dagger into her back. The priestess merely grunted as she turned. Kat drew back, eyes wide, as the woman’s form began to shift and change. The temperature in the small room began to rise dramatically. Within seconds the priestess had become a living column of flame!
Roger crossed blades with several of the warriors, driving them back before his fearsome onslaught, while Lemmy continued to hurl kinetic blasts to deadly effect. Suddenly, the inner door blew open and a huge creature composed of flame lumbered into the room. The priestess raised her fiery hands above her and summoned her druidic magic. A wave of power washed over the room, sucking moisture from the living members of the Knot, leaving their mouths parched and their eyes as dry as sand. Kat came behind the priestess, still stabbing with her dagger but having little effect. Then Kelvin pointed one finger at the elemental and sent a spear of solid ice through her chest. She collapsed to one knee, transforming back into her true form before falling to the floor. The remaining Iraens looked on in dismay as their priestess fell. They didn’t have long to grieve before the Nessian Knot sent them to rejoin their leader.
________________________________________________________________
Kat led her friends back to the ground floor and towards the guard post she’d observed earlier. There was no sense leaving any potential opposition for Chargammon if they didn’t absolutely have to. As the Knot approached the post, they disguised themselves as Iraens to avoid suspicion. The guards nodded as they passed, but when Dakota made to move through, one of them reached out and seized her by the arm.
“Just a minute, Miss,” the knight said. “I don’t recognize you. Where did you come from?”
Dakota looked the man in the eye, her own flashing momentarily red.
‘You will let me pass,’ her voice spoke into his mind.
“You can pass,” the knight nodded.
“Wait,” another Knight spoke up. “What’s the matter with you, Jordan? You know that’s not protocol.”
“It is now,” Kelvin replied, locking his gaze on the guard’s.
“Of course it is,” the knight acquiesced.
Before the remaining two guards could react, Dakota and Tardaesha dominated them as well.
“Now then,” Kelvin instructed. “It’s been a long night. Your relief will be here any moment. Why don’t you lot stand down for the evening.”
“Standing down,” they said in unison, saluting as they turned on their heels and left the Adarium.
___________________________________________________________________
“What’s up there?” Tardaesha asked Kat, pointing towards the stairs on the far side of the entry foyer.
“I never looked,” Kat shrugged. “Just guessed it was the upper level of the portico.”
Tardaesha rolled her eyes.
“C’mon then,” she said. “We’re not going to leave some potential enemy behind us to stab us in the back.’
Two spiral staircases led to an open chamber divided by a ten-feet high partition. The great dome itself rose more than eighty feet and was adorned with stained glass windows that honored Darius and Iomedae. It seemed more like a cathedral than a gathering place for royalty and their courtiers. But in that time of war and worry, there were no courtiers nor social functions. Instead, it was empty and quiet. That is except for a powerfully built angel who sat upon the king's throne. He spoke as the villains entered.
“I've waited for you. My brother said your road of woe and wickedness would lead you here. My name is Ara Zandra. You banished my brother from the world he sacrificed so much for. Your journey ends here upon the throne you would steal. Righteous vengeance is mine!”
And with that, the angel attacked.
As Ara Zandra swooped towards them, Dakota raised her bow and shot him once in the chest. He did not pause. Instead, as he drew closer, a blinding radiance emanated from his body. Kat shrieked and covered her eyes too late. They felt like they’d been burned out of their sockets. The light burned and seared the flesh of all of them, especially the vampires. Kelvin quickly cast a spell, and a huge, disembodied hand appeared before the angel, blocking him from approaching any closer. Dakota shot him twice more as he struggled to circumvent the spell. Roger and Grumblejack closed in, trying to shield their eyes. The angel easily battered Roger aside with a blazing sword that suddenly appeared in his hands. He then drove it into Grumblejack, causing the fiendish ogre to stagger backwards,
“Vengeance!” Ara Zandra shouted.
“Is all mine,” Dakota hissed.
She fired a volley of three more arrows, all of them striking the angel in the throat. He gurgled and clutched at the shafts, his sword vanishing as he dropped it. His eyes blazed golden for a moment and then went dark as he dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap.
As Roger picked himself up from the ground, he felt a familiar tug in his mind and from his hand. Helbrand. The sword was trying to communicate with him again. It’s point dipped of its own volition and pointed towards the throne. When he reached it, he found himself involuntarily raising the sword and then smashing the old throne to splinters. Hidden among the shards was a gleaming, obsidian hilt. Roger bent to retrieve it and then easily snapped it into place upon Helbrand. Instantly, a voice spoke to him.
“The blade thanks the master who has awoken it. Together the master and the blade will write their names in blood upon the pages of history.”
Roger smiled grimly
JollyDoc
Explorer
15 Desnus, 4718 - The Fall of the House of Darius
At Kat’s insistence, the companions returned to the king’s quarters on the first floor of the Adarium. Something about the locked and warded door kept nagging at her.
“He that violates this shrine shall gain nothing but ashes, nothing but death,” she read the inscription above the door again.
She bent close to examine the door.
“Ah,” she nodded. “Just as I suspected. The trap is magical. Give me a second.”
She fiddled with the locking mechanism with her picks for several moments and then stood again.
“There, should be safe now,” she said.
Lemmy shouldered her aside and opened the door. Instantly a thin green beam of light shot out from the lock and struck the dwarf. He screamed as a healthy chunk of flesh around his shoulder simply disintegrated.
Kat grinned sheepishly and shrugged, then quickly darted into the room before the pain-enraged dwarf could start blasting her.
Inside, she discovered a humble personal shrine to Iomedae. The shrine was little more than a place to kneel before a statue of the three-fold goddess. Kat quickly gave the room a good once-over and found exactly what she’d expected: a small, hidden vault behind the statue, and an equally well-hidden trapdoor in the floor. She ascertained that the vault was also trapped, but she made sure to take a bit more care with that one and managed to disarm it successfully. Inside was only a small, leather-bound book. Kelvin snatched it from her hands before she could even open the cover.
“The Liber Darian,” Kelvin read from the book. “It’s an Iomedaen holy text, but this one also seems to contain a complete family history of the house of Darius. Wait a minute...,” his voice trailed off. “This can’t be true...if it is, then that means....”
“What the Hells are you blathering about?” Dakota snapped. “Just spit it out already!”
Kelvin glared at her for a moment before his attention was drawn back to the book.
“According to this,” he explained, “Bellinda’s mother was not actually the queen.”
“What?” Tardaesha exclaimed. “How could that be? Then who is her mother?”
“Antharia Regina,” Kelvin said.
“I’ve heard that name somewhere before,” Tardaesha wrinkled her brow.
“You should remember,” Kelvin said, “we killed her son, Argossarian.”
“Who?” Dakota asked
Then it dawned on Tardaesha. “The dragon? The silver dragon we slew at the Horn?”
“The same,” Kelvin nodded.
“Wait...,” Dakota said, trying to wrap her head around the facts, “so that means that Bellinda’s mother is...a dragon?”
“Exactly,” Kelvin said.
________________________________________________________________
The stairs descended into the earth, giving onto a large, bare chamber. In one corner of the room was a pool of bubbling magma. Standing in the midst of the pool was a beautiful woman whose flesh appeared to be made of lava. She gripped a burning sword in one hand.
“I am Brigit of the Brijidine,” she spoke in a voice like a rumbling volcano, “born of earth and fire, and I have divined your wicked designs. The land itself now rises against you. How can you do anything but burn?”
“We’ve heard your name,” Tardaesha smiled. “It seems you’ve pissed off some friends of ours.”
Brijit did not bother to reply. Instead she raised her free hand and summoned five elementals from the magma at her feet.
Tardaesha and Roger charged forward to meet the oncoming elementals. The two anti-paladins obliterated the first one with a withering barrage of steel. Behind them, Lemmy and Dakota closed in, but one of the huge elementals pummeled Dak before she could ready her bow. At that moment, Brijit raised her hand again, and a wall of solid magma rose from floor to ceiling, trapping Roger and Tardaesha on one side with her. Tardaesha barely noticed. She quickly cut down another elemental while Roger dealt with a third.
On the far side of the wall Kelvin roughly shouldered aside Lemmy, who had been trying with little success to blast through the barrier. Kelvin cast a spell and instantly disintegrated a large section of the wall. When he stepped through, however, Brijit sealed it behind him again.
“Just in time,” Tardaesha laughed as she dispatched another elemental.
A rumbled from beneath their feet heralded the arrival of Lemmy, who had elected to burrow beneath the wall rather than bring it down. Roger dealt with the last of the elementals, and then the four companions advanced on Brijit. She began casting another spell, but Kelvin interrupted her by hurling a barrage of magic missiles at her face. As the azata recoiled, Tardaesha leaped at her and smote her with unholy fury. Liquid fire flowed like blood from Brijit as she tried to defend herself.
“Stand aside!” Lemmy cried.
Tardaesha instinctively ducked as a blast of metal shards sailed over her head and ripped through Brijit. Her body lost cohesion and melted back down into the magma.
_________________________________________________________________
A small room beyond Brijit’s chamber contained little besides eight stone columns and a circular pedestal. The eight columns each portrayed one of the eight Iomedaen virtues: Honesty, Honor, Humility, Compassion, Valor, Justice, Piety and Self-Sacrifice. Instead of directly stating those principles, the columns showed them in visual parables. The column of justice, as an example, showed a magistrate delivering sentence upon the guilty. Kelvin detected a powerful magical aura about the place from the school of abjuration. There was also a powerful good aura as well. Kelvin recognized the aura for what it was – the lingering spirit of the king's line that gathered in that place and protected and guided their son.
“This is where he will come,” Kelvin said. “So this is where we wait. It’s time to make our preparations.”
The others nodded and set about readying themselves for the king’s arrival. As a last minute thought, Tardaesha snapped her fingers, and Jeratheon appeared before her out of thin air.
“I thought it appropriate to have you present,” she said. “Your father might feast on the blood of a princess tonight, but you, my loyal mount, shall have a king!”
____________________________________________________________________
In the midnight hour on the night of the new moon, Chargammon fulfilled his oath. He flew in low, gliding upon the powerful night winds that swept off the southern ocean into the Cambrian Bay. He was silent, wings unflapping. He was cloaked in magical darkness. He came like a thief in the night.
And then he cast aside stealth. His onslaught ensued by drowning the upper halls with a wave of acid, one hundred and twenty feet long. Servants and guards died and melted into an unidentifiable slurry of molten flesh. The great wyrm ripped the top of the palace off and bellowed a war cry that reverberated through the moonless night. Even in Matharyn across the bay, they heard his wail. And fear seized the capital of Talingarde.
A contingent of knights rushed upward, eager to defend both the palace and the princess. That was their last mistake. Chargammon summoned a fog of caustic vapor and fought them even as it seared their flesh. Brave soldiers of Talingarde died screaming in his wake.
Chargammon sniffed the air and caught a scent unlike the soldiers. That must be Bellinda. He moved like a great angel of death through the palace. Anyone in the Adarium with any sense, fled. A few valiant soldiers did not. They meet Iomedae quickly.
At last, Chargammon neared his prey. No wall of force could stop him. He ripped off the roof and burrowed in through the ceiling. He entered the princesses’ opulent bed chamber and discovered one guardian not fleeing – Sir Richard Thomasson. The paladin faced the dragon alone. Chargammon let forth a laugh that would have chilled an ice devil's blood.
“So, you desire to die in battle with a legend?”
“No, ” answered the paladin. “I intend to slay one.”
The dragon's laugh turned into a scowl. His eyes burned with the full wrath of hell. Chargammon did not tolerate insults nor did he suffer fools. He lashed out with a blast of acidic fury and was annoyed to discover the paladin still standing in its wake.
It became a standing fight then – dragon against knight. Sir Richard answered the dragon's impressive assaults with powerful blows, smiting the dragon with painful sacred sword strokes. Each blow left horrid scars across ancient black scales. Chargammon for his part, inflicted horrid wounds upon the paladin that would have killed any lesser man. He lashed the knight with claw, tooth, tail and wing. He lacerated flesh from bone and soon the dragon stood over the fallen wreck of Sir Richard.
“Pathetic. Time to die, little hero,” the dragon said as the paladin used all his strength to rise one last time.
And then something happened that Chargammon did not anticipate. Dressed in a robe of silver, a beautiful young maiden emerged from her sanctum and stood in front of the stricken knight. Upon her robe was embroidered the sword of Iomedae and a white unicorn. Chargammon sniffed the air. Yes, that was her. But there was more. He smelled something else, something familiar. And suddenly he recognized the scent.
“Antharia,” the dragon whispered
The princess spoke. “Ah, you've met my mother.”
And for the first time, she unleashed herself. Four powerful meteor strikes ripped into the great wyrm one after another. Chargammon enjoyed powerful magic defenses but that magic tore them asunder. In his old age, the dragon was not as quick as in his youth and the four darting meteors smashed into him with blinding speed. How could the princess miss as gigantic a target as that vast dragon? Already badly mauled from his battle with the paladin, the meteor swarm was too great. The dragon toppled. That was how the great wyrm Chargammon died. No one was more stunned than the princess herself.
“Did...did you see that?” said Bellinda. “I did that!”
The wounded knight rasped, “You are your mother's daughter. More than that, you are Iomedae’s chosen. You are our light in this time of darkness. Maybe the last light... ”
Bellinda faced her protector. “Richard, you're hurt!”
“I'll recover, your highness. The dragon...is not alone. He has allies ... the Knot of Thorns. They're everywhere.”
“The Knot of Thorns? Who are they?” Bellinda asked
“They are the root of this war, this pestilence and all the ills that have befallen Talingarde,” Richard Replied. “They are our true enemies, highness. And until they are destroyed, you are in the gravest danger. ”
“Tell me more. Tell me everything.”
And with that, she touched the Paladin and they were gone.
______________________________________________________________________
Five minutes after Chargammon’s attack began, a very powerful magical pulse flashed throughout the chamber where the Nessian Knot awaited the arrival of the king. In that instant, several of the protective auras the companions had woven about themselves were snuffed out. A moment later a magical portal opened and the King himself, along with six companions, stepped through.
“Where is my daughter?” demanded King Markadian V, called The Brave.
“You’ll get no answer from these blackguards, your Majesty!” snarled a man standing to the right of the king, whose badge of office identified him as a member of the inquisition. “Best to just have done with them!”
He raised one hand and called down a column of white fire upon the heads of Lemmy and Roger.
“It’s your own hides you should be concerned with!” Kelvin challenged.
He cast his own spell, and a barred cage of pure force appeared around Markadian and three of his knights.
The one remaining free knight drew his sword and charged the Knot. Tardaesha tagged him a glancing blow as he rushed past her and straight towards Jeratheon. At the same moment, another of Markadian’s entourage, this one a priest, spoke a holy word. The effect was impressive. Knick-Knack, who’d been seated on Tardaesha’s shoulder, disappeared, instantly banished back to his home plane of Abaddon. Every other member of the Knot, including Jeratheon, was struck blind. Still, dragons had other senses to rely on besides their sight, and as the charging knight drew near, Jeratheon lashed out, catching the man in his jaws and biting down, ending his life with a sickening grinding of teeth.
Dakota’s vision slowly returned, but it was still enough for her to put a volley of arrows between the bars of the force cage and into the King. Furious at his impotence, Markadian’s crown began to glow, and then a mote of that light shot towards Dak. When it reached her, it morphed into a glowing sword which began to menace and slash at her.
“It appears we have a few of the undead among us,” the inquisitor sneered. “Let’s see how they like Iomedae’s shining light!”
He extended his palm and a lance of searing radiance flashed towards Dakota. When it struck her, her flesh began to burn and she screamed in agony. Kelvin’s own gaze was clearing by that point, and he quickly hurled an explosive acid ball into the midst of the king’s contingent. Before they could recover, Jeratheon flew across the room and landed atop the priest, mauling and tearing him limb from limb. At the same time his massive wings buffeted the inquisitor aside. Roger charged forward, his eyes still watering, and drove Helbrand through the inquisitor’s chest.
Once the light was no longer burning her, Dakota managed to regain her composure and quickly snapped off another flight of arrows. These struck Markadian squarely, and he reeled backwards against the bars of the cage. His knights turned to aid him, and that’s when Jeratheon’s caustic breath completely filled the inside of the pen.
At Kat’s insistence, the companions returned to the king’s quarters on the first floor of the Adarium. Something about the locked and warded door kept nagging at her.
“He that violates this shrine shall gain nothing but ashes, nothing but death,” she read the inscription above the door again.
She bent close to examine the door.
“Ah,” she nodded. “Just as I suspected. The trap is magical. Give me a second.”
She fiddled with the locking mechanism with her picks for several moments and then stood again.
“There, should be safe now,” she said.
Lemmy shouldered her aside and opened the door. Instantly a thin green beam of light shot out from the lock and struck the dwarf. He screamed as a healthy chunk of flesh around his shoulder simply disintegrated.
Kat grinned sheepishly and shrugged, then quickly darted into the room before the pain-enraged dwarf could start blasting her.
Inside, she discovered a humble personal shrine to Iomedae. The shrine was little more than a place to kneel before a statue of the three-fold goddess. Kat quickly gave the room a good once-over and found exactly what she’d expected: a small, hidden vault behind the statue, and an equally well-hidden trapdoor in the floor. She ascertained that the vault was also trapped, but she made sure to take a bit more care with that one and managed to disarm it successfully. Inside was only a small, leather-bound book. Kelvin snatched it from her hands before she could even open the cover.
“The Liber Darian,” Kelvin read from the book. “It’s an Iomedaen holy text, but this one also seems to contain a complete family history of the house of Darius. Wait a minute...,” his voice trailed off. “This can’t be true...if it is, then that means....”
“What the Hells are you blathering about?” Dakota snapped. “Just spit it out already!”
Kelvin glared at her for a moment before his attention was drawn back to the book.
“According to this,” he explained, “Bellinda’s mother was not actually the queen.”
“What?” Tardaesha exclaimed. “How could that be? Then who is her mother?”
“Antharia Regina,” Kelvin said.
“I’ve heard that name somewhere before,” Tardaesha wrinkled her brow.
“You should remember,” Kelvin said, “we killed her son, Argossarian.”
“Who?” Dakota asked
Then it dawned on Tardaesha. “The dragon? The silver dragon we slew at the Horn?”
“The same,” Kelvin nodded.
“Wait...,” Dakota said, trying to wrap her head around the facts, “so that means that Bellinda’s mother is...a dragon?”
“Exactly,” Kelvin said.
________________________________________________________________
The stairs descended into the earth, giving onto a large, bare chamber. In one corner of the room was a pool of bubbling magma. Standing in the midst of the pool was a beautiful woman whose flesh appeared to be made of lava. She gripped a burning sword in one hand.
“I am Brigit of the Brijidine,” she spoke in a voice like a rumbling volcano, “born of earth and fire, and I have divined your wicked designs. The land itself now rises against you. How can you do anything but burn?”
“We’ve heard your name,” Tardaesha smiled. “It seems you’ve pissed off some friends of ours.”
Brijit did not bother to reply. Instead she raised her free hand and summoned five elementals from the magma at her feet.
Tardaesha and Roger charged forward to meet the oncoming elementals. The two anti-paladins obliterated the first one with a withering barrage of steel. Behind them, Lemmy and Dakota closed in, but one of the huge elementals pummeled Dak before she could ready her bow. At that moment, Brijit raised her hand again, and a wall of solid magma rose from floor to ceiling, trapping Roger and Tardaesha on one side with her. Tardaesha barely noticed. She quickly cut down another elemental while Roger dealt with a third.
On the far side of the wall Kelvin roughly shouldered aside Lemmy, who had been trying with little success to blast through the barrier. Kelvin cast a spell and instantly disintegrated a large section of the wall. When he stepped through, however, Brijit sealed it behind him again.
“Just in time,” Tardaesha laughed as she dispatched another elemental.
A rumbled from beneath their feet heralded the arrival of Lemmy, who had elected to burrow beneath the wall rather than bring it down. Roger dealt with the last of the elementals, and then the four companions advanced on Brijit. She began casting another spell, but Kelvin interrupted her by hurling a barrage of magic missiles at her face. As the azata recoiled, Tardaesha leaped at her and smote her with unholy fury. Liquid fire flowed like blood from Brijit as she tried to defend herself.
“Stand aside!” Lemmy cried.
Tardaesha instinctively ducked as a blast of metal shards sailed over her head and ripped through Brijit. Her body lost cohesion and melted back down into the magma.
_________________________________________________________________
A small room beyond Brijit’s chamber contained little besides eight stone columns and a circular pedestal. The eight columns each portrayed one of the eight Iomedaen virtues: Honesty, Honor, Humility, Compassion, Valor, Justice, Piety and Self-Sacrifice. Instead of directly stating those principles, the columns showed them in visual parables. The column of justice, as an example, showed a magistrate delivering sentence upon the guilty. Kelvin detected a powerful magical aura about the place from the school of abjuration. There was also a powerful good aura as well. Kelvin recognized the aura for what it was – the lingering spirit of the king's line that gathered in that place and protected and guided their son.
“This is where he will come,” Kelvin said. “So this is where we wait. It’s time to make our preparations.”
The others nodded and set about readying themselves for the king’s arrival. As a last minute thought, Tardaesha snapped her fingers, and Jeratheon appeared before her out of thin air.
“I thought it appropriate to have you present,” she said. “Your father might feast on the blood of a princess tonight, but you, my loyal mount, shall have a king!”
____________________________________________________________________
In the midnight hour on the night of the new moon, Chargammon fulfilled his oath. He flew in low, gliding upon the powerful night winds that swept off the southern ocean into the Cambrian Bay. He was silent, wings unflapping. He was cloaked in magical darkness. He came like a thief in the night.
And then he cast aside stealth. His onslaught ensued by drowning the upper halls with a wave of acid, one hundred and twenty feet long. Servants and guards died and melted into an unidentifiable slurry of molten flesh. The great wyrm ripped the top of the palace off and bellowed a war cry that reverberated through the moonless night. Even in Matharyn across the bay, they heard his wail. And fear seized the capital of Talingarde.
A contingent of knights rushed upward, eager to defend both the palace and the princess. That was their last mistake. Chargammon summoned a fog of caustic vapor and fought them even as it seared their flesh. Brave soldiers of Talingarde died screaming in his wake.
Chargammon sniffed the air and caught a scent unlike the soldiers. That must be Bellinda. He moved like a great angel of death through the palace. Anyone in the Adarium with any sense, fled. A few valiant soldiers did not. They meet Iomedae quickly.
At last, Chargammon neared his prey. No wall of force could stop him. He ripped off the roof and burrowed in through the ceiling. He entered the princesses’ opulent bed chamber and discovered one guardian not fleeing – Sir Richard Thomasson. The paladin faced the dragon alone. Chargammon let forth a laugh that would have chilled an ice devil's blood.
“So, you desire to die in battle with a legend?”
“No, ” answered the paladin. “I intend to slay one.”
The dragon's laugh turned into a scowl. His eyes burned with the full wrath of hell. Chargammon did not tolerate insults nor did he suffer fools. He lashed out with a blast of acidic fury and was annoyed to discover the paladin still standing in its wake.
It became a standing fight then – dragon against knight. Sir Richard answered the dragon's impressive assaults with powerful blows, smiting the dragon with painful sacred sword strokes. Each blow left horrid scars across ancient black scales. Chargammon for his part, inflicted horrid wounds upon the paladin that would have killed any lesser man. He lashed the knight with claw, tooth, tail and wing. He lacerated flesh from bone and soon the dragon stood over the fallen wreck of Sir Richard.
“Pathetic. Time to die, little hero,” the dragon said as the paladin used all his strength to rise one last time.
And then something happened that Chargammon did not anticipate. Dressed in a robe of silver, a beautiful young maiden emerged from her sanctum and stood in front of the stricken knight. Upon her robe was embroidered the sword of Iomedae and a white unicorn. Chargammon sniffed the air. Yes, that was her. But there was more. He smelled something else, something familiar. And suddenly he recognized the scent.
“Antharia,” the dragon whispered
The princess spoke. “Ah, you've met my mother.”
And for the first time, she unleashed herself. Four powerful meteor strikes ripped into the great wyrm one after another. Chargammon enjoyed powerful magic defenses but that magic tore them asunder. In his old age, the dragon was not as quick as in his youth and the four darting meteors smashed into him with blinding speed. How could the princess miss as gigantic a target as that vast dragon? Already badly mauled from his battle with the paladin, the meteor swarm was too great. The dragon toppled. That was how the great wyrm Chargammon died. No one was more stunned than the princess herself.
“Did...did you see that?” said Bellinda. “I did that!”
The wounded knight rasped, “You are your mother's daughter. More than that, you are Iomedae’s chosen. You are our light in this time of darkness. Maybe the last light... ”
Bellinda faced her protector. “Richard, you're hurt!”
“I'll recover, your highness. The dragon...is not alone. He has allies ... the Knot of Thorns. They're everywhere.”
“The Knot of Thorns? Who are they?” Bellinda asked
“They are the root of this war, this pestilence and all the ills that have befallen Talingarde,” Richard Replied. “They are our true enemies, highness. And until they are destroyed, you are in the gravest danger. ”
“Tell me more. Tell me everything.”
And with that, she touched the Paladin and they were gone.
______________________________________________________________________
Five minutes after Chargammon’s attack began, a very powerful magical pulse flashed throughout the chamber where the Nessian Knot awaited the arrival of the king. In that instant, several of the protective auras the companions had woven about themselves were snuffed out. A moment later a magical portal opened and the King himself, along with six companions, stepped through.
“Where is my daughter?” demanded King Markadian V, called The Brave.
“You’ll get no answer from these blackguards, your Majesty!” snarled a man standing to the right of the king, whose badge of office identified him as a member of the inquisition. “Best to just have done with them!”
He raised one hand and called down a column of white fire upon the heads of Lemmy and Roger.
“It’s your own hides you should be concerned with!” Kelvin challenged.
He cast his own spell, and a barred cage of pure force appeared around Markadian and three of his knights.
The one remaining free knight drew his sword and charged the Knot. Tardaesha tagged him a glancing blow as he rushed past her and straight towards Jeratheon. At the same moment, another of Markadian’s entourage, this one a priest, spoke a holy word. The effect was impressive. Knick-Knack, who’d been seated on Tardaesha’s shoulder, disappeared, instantly banished back to his home plane of Abaddon. Every other member of the Knot, including Jeratheon, was struck blind. Still, dragons had other senses to rely on besides their sight, and as the charging knight drew near, Jeratheon lashed out, catching the man in his jaws and biting down, ending his life with a sickening grinding of teeth.
Dakota’s vision slowly returned, but it was still enough for her to put a volley of arrows between the bars of the force cage and into the King. Furious at his impotence, Markadian’s crown began to glow, and then a mote of that light shot towards Dak. When it reached her, it morphed into a glowing sword which began to menace and slash at her.
“It appears we have a few of the undead among us,” the inquisitor sneered. “Let’s see how they like Iomedae’s shining light!”
He extended his palm and a lance of searing radiance flashed towards Dakota. When it struck her, her flesh began to burn and she screamed in agony. Kelvin’s own gaze was clearing by that point, and he quickly hurled an explosive acid ball into the midst of the king’s contingent. Before they could recover, Jeratheon flew across the room and landed atop the priest, mauling and tearing him limb from limb. At the same time his massive wings buffeted the inquisitor aside. Roger charged forward, his eyes still watering, and drove Helbrand through the inquisitor’s chest.
Once the light was no longer burning her, Dakota managed to regain her composure and quickly snapped off another flight of arrows. These struck Markadian squarely, and he reeled backwards against the bars of the cage. His knights turned to aid him, and that’s when Jeratheon’s caustic breath completely filled the inside of the pen.
JollyDoc
Explorer
15 Desnus, 4718 - The Devil My Only Master
The Nessian Knot turned to leave the summoning chamber, their mission complete. No sooner had they reentered the chamber where they’d fought Brijit, however, than three bright flashes of light signaled the arrival of more enemies. Three large figures emerged from the light, humanoid, though mostly hidden behind plates of elaborate golden armor, the spaces in between revealing flesh of black stone.
“You,” the trio intoned in unison, each of them pointing a large finger at Tardaesha, Kelvin and Dakota respectively, “have been judged and found guilty of the crime of undeath. Such as you cannot be suffered to exist.”
Before the companions could respond, the three juggernauts each raised a wall of flames from out of thin air, separating the three vampires from one another. Jeratheon, who remained by Tardaesha’s side, stretched open his mouth and belched corrosive liquid at the creature that was trapped behind the wall with them. With a speed belying its size and bulk, the creature pinwheeled aside, avoiding the caustic blast entirely. Meanwhile, behind one of the adjacent walls, Kelvin recognized the beings for exactly what they were: marut inevitables, living machines whose sole purpose was to seek out and destroy agents of chaos wherever they could. Kelvin knew he didn’t want to face one of them all alone, so he quickly cast a spell and teleported beyond his wall. Unfortunately, his foe was capable of the same magic, and reappeared right next to him.
Tardaesha closed the distance between herself and the marut. As she drew near, however, the inevitable swung one huge fist, and when it connected, there was a tremendous thunderclap which left Tardaesha’s ears ringing. She reached out a hand and touched the marut, leaving a dark blemish of corruption on its hide. It slammed its fist into her again, but as she reeled from the blow, she saw Katarina emerge from the shadows behind the marut and drive her dagger into its lower back. When it turned to face its new assailant, Tardaesha rushed in again and layed her glowing black hands upon it.
As the marut trudged towards him, Kelvin threw out his hand and hurled a snaking tendril of flames in its path. Though the fire scorched and burned its body, the creature still came. It backhanded the wizard once, knocking him from his feet. It loomed over him and prepared to drive its fist through his chest, but a split second before the blow landed, Kelvin conjured a sphere of force around himself.
Dakota and Tardaesha battled on against their own oppressors, aided by Grumblejack and Katarina respectively. They managed to hold their own, but for every minor wound they inflicted on the maruts, the inevitables gave it back in spades. When Lemmy finally managed to burrow under the walls of flame and emerged to assist Dakota, the marut stood over him, glowering.
“Stand aside, mortal,” it rumbled. “Our grievance is not with you, but if you stand in the path of justice, you will meet the same fate as the cheaters of death.”
“Cheat this!” Lemmy countered with his usual eloquence, hurling shards of stone and metal into the marut’s face.
Kelvin had no illusions that, given time, the marut could pummel its way through his little force bubble. He had no intention of giving it that much time. He cast another spell and teleported out of his shelter, reappearing behind Jeratheon. The dragon would be a bit more formidable as a shield. Jeratheon turned his head briefly to scowl at the cowering wizard, then looked back to his mistress and unleashed his acid breath on her foe. That marut took the brunt of the blast but was not daunted. It reached towards Tardaesha and grasped her by the arm. Tardaesha felt reality warp and shift. She felt as if she were being pulled through the eye of a needle. She closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing her will. It was like she was being torn in half for an interminable moment, and then the sensation passed. She opened her eyes again and the marut was gone.
“What happened?” she asked.
“It plane-shifted,” Kelvin peeked from behind Jeratheon’s rump. “Tried to take you with it. That would not have ended well for you. Oh!”
Kelvin leaped in surprise as the marut he thought he’d left behind suddenly appeared beside him. He scrambled backwards, casting desperately as he tried to escape. Shadows swirled around him and coalesced into vaguely humanoid, yet subtly demonic forms...four of them.
“Kill it!” Kelvin commanded, pointing towards the marut.
Then he quickly encased himself in another force sphere.
Dakota continued to pepper her tormentor with arrows while Roger harried it from closer to hand. Grumblejack joined him, and together they were able to keep it at bay from the archer. As it was forced back, Katarina suddenly stepped into view behind it and drove her knife into its back with both hands. It collapsed to its knees, and as it toppled over, Roger swept its head from its shoulders.
Only one inevitable remained. The companions and their cohorts closed in on it, surrounding it on all sides. Dakota snapped off an arrow, but the marut backhanded her for her effort. Jeratheon breathed liquid death while Grumblejack charged in from the flank. The marut took the blows silently. Methodically, it conjured electricity out of thin air and sent it arcing in chains among its foes. The pain seemed to madden Jeratheon. He lunged forward and clamped his jaws around one of the marut’s log-sized arms. As it turned to hammer at the dragon with its free fist, Dakota put an arrow through the side of its neck. It stumbled and fell to one knee, and then Kelvin’s shadow demons swarmed over it. It disappeared beneath the mound of tearing claws and ripping fangs.
____________________________________________________________________
As the others made their escape from the Adarium, Katarina volunteered to discover what had transpired from Chargammon’s gambit. Sticking to the shadows, she made her way back into the upper levels of the keep. What she found when she arrived was utter chaos. Knights and servants dashed about in turmoil, uncertain as to what exactly they should be doing. Where possible, they lent aid to survivors, though there were precious few of those. The entire roof of the upper level had been ripped off, and rubble and debris was strewn from one end to the other, along with the bodies of Bellinda’s dwarven honor guard. The remains of the guardian golem lay scattered outside her chamber, but none of this held Kat’s attention for long. No, what truly gave her pause and caused her breath to catch in her throat was the sight of the blasted and torn corpse of the mighty black dragon. What power could have done such a thing? Searching quickly through the rubble of the princess’ room, she found no sign of the girl’s body. Even more troubling. Shaking her head, Kat melted back into the darkness and left the palace, eager to catch up to her companions and tell them of what had transpired.
__________________________________________________________
“So was our mission a success or a failure?” Dakota asked.
The companions of the Ninth Knot sat huddled in the room they rented in the squalid inn located in Matharyn’s seedier dock quarter.
“We were sent to kill the king,” Kelvin said. “The king is dead. The fate of his daughter is not our concern.”
“Then why hasn’t Thorn or Tiadora contacted us?” Roger asked.
No one answered. Dessiter’s warning hung unspoken in the air.
“So what now?” Tardaesha asked.
Again no one immediately replied, but then Lemmy spoke up.
“Well, I don’t know how the rest of your feel about it, but seems to me there’s currently an unguarded dragon horde back on Chargammon’s island. Ain’t like we got anything better to do.”
The dwarf’s logic was sound.
______________________________________________________________
The following evening Kelvin gathered his companions about him and cast the spell of teleportation that would transport them directly to Chargammon’s grotto. Jeratheon was too large to accompany them, but due to the bond between Tardaesha and himself, his mistress vowed to summon him to her side as soon as they arrived. As it turned out, she was a bit delayed.
When the Knot appeared in the vast cavern, the first thing that was immediately apparent was that it was not, as they had assumed, unoccupied. There was no dragon present, but something far worse...a dragon slayer. None other than Sir Richard Havelyn stood overlooking the dark pool in the center of the chamber. Beside him stood a man clad in the vestments of an Iomedaen priest, and another older man in dark robes. Scattered around the cave were at least a dozen knights of the Alerion, all armed and armored for battle. For a long moment, the two factions stood staring at each other in silence. It was Sir Richard who broke the stand off.
“You’ve taken almost everything from this country,” he said quietly. “Is it not enough? What more do you want?”
“Everything,” Tardaesha shrugged. “We want everything that was taken from and denied our family, and then we want the interest on what is owed. We will bring Talingarde to its knees, and only then will we finally declare justice served. For now, however, your country still has some bleeding to do.”
There was no need for, nor no point in further conversation. At a gesture from Sir Richard, his knights began to close in on the Knot. Kelvin didn’t wait for them. He first conjured a huge, disembodied fist which he sent charging towards the wizard to the right of the paladin. The fist struck the mage full on and left him reeling. Kelvin followed this by hurling a fireball into the midst of Sir Richard and his immediate retinue.
“Kill the wizard!” Sir Richard shouted to his men.
The approaching knights quickly sheathed their swords and unlimbered their bows. They loosed a deadly volley directly at Kelvin and their arrows struck true against the unarmored mage. Unfortunately, the skin of a vampire was as hard as stone, and the arrows simply bounced harmlessly off.
Tardaesha snapped her fingers as she suddenly remembered something.
“Jeratheon,” she said. “I completely forgot I promised him a bit of fun.”
She snapped again and the massive form of the black dragon suddenly appeared by her side.
“There he is,” Tardaesha said, pointing towards Sir Richard. “There’s the man who participated in your father’s demise.”
Jeratheon smiled.
“I’m not sure if I should thank him or eat him,” he grumbled. “Maybe I’ll do both.”
He opened his mouth and spewed acid at Sir Richard and one of his knights at the same time that the paladin’s priest called down a storm of fire from the heavens upon all of the Knot. He smiled triumphantly as he saw the blisters and burns on the hides of the devil-worshippers, but his expression turned to one of shocked bewilderment and pain when Dakota put four arrows into his chest. He slumped to one side and then tumbled into the water of the grotto.
As Kelvin conjured a wall of flames to separate the knights from their commander, Lemmy pulled flaming rocks from the earth and hurled them at Sir Richard’s face. The knights, never hesitating, charged through the firewall, only to stumble into another fiery explosion when Kelvin loosed a fireball upon them. Still, the holy warriors did not succumb. They closed rapidly towards Lemmy and Tardaesha. Roger moved to intercept them, but only managed a glancing blow at one as he ran past the anti-paladin. Shrugging, Roger turned his attention towards Sir Richard. He had full faith in his allies’ ability to defend themselves, a faith that was born out a moment later when first Tardaesha, and then Grumblejack each put a knight to the sword. Roger reached Sir Richard a moment later, and their blades clashed in hell and holy fire. Both reeled backwards in the aftermath then paused to catch their breath as they circled each other warily. Sir Richard abruptly pitched forward as Dakota shot him twice in the back. Instantly, the paladin layed hands upon himself and closed the worst of the spurting wounds. Still, his breathing was shallow and raspy. He was on his last legs. Dakota drew her bowstring again and prepared to put him out of his misery.
“Wait!” came a voice from behind the combatants.
Both camps turned at once towards the new distraction and witnessed Dessiter the contract devil emerge from the deep shadows of the grotto.
“Spare him, at least for a moment,” he said, smiling at Dakota.
He turned and approached the broken and defeated paladin.
“Richard,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “It seems my associates are about to slay you. And who can blame them after all you've done to thwart their noble aspirations? My name is Dessiter and I have been empowered by my master to extend you an offer.”
“Never,” whispered the paladin with a ragged breath.
“Never is a long time, dear Richard,” Dessiter tsked. “You have failed at your mission. Talingarde stands on the brink of disaster. Would you see your nation delivered into the hands of monsters? You can still save your people, Richard, you just have to let go of your pride. Iomedae has abandoned Talingarde and abandoned you. Tell me, if She were truly so powerful, would you lie here helpless before my associates? You've followed a false god, dear Richard. But you're in luck. My master is impressed by your skill in battle. He's impressed by your doggedness and determination. He's impressed by you, Richard. It's just that ... you're working for the wrong side. You're working for a side that has already forsaken you. Tell me Richard, will you die here in this festering swamp like a dog or will you rise once more? Will you accept our generous offer and swear allegiance to a new master? I'm afraid this is a one time offer, Richard. And judging from the look on my friends' faces, I'd say that time is quickly running out...”
The members of the Knot looked at one another meaningfully.
“If I were you, I’d take him up on his offer,” Tardaesha said with her most winning smile. “Consider the lives of your remaining men. I can assure you that if we are forced to kill you, we will deal with them next, and we will not be so merciful. In fact...,” she grinned broadly, showing her fangs, “we could use a few more undead thralls among our minions.”
Richard’s face visibly blanched.
“Well, what’s it to be?” Dessiter leaned over the paladin.
“Iomedae, why hast thou forsaken me?” Sir Richard cried to the wind.
There was a rumble deep in the earth. Everyone around the battle site could feel a dark wind moving amongst them. And then Sir Richard fell unconscious. His aura was visibly changed. He was a paladin no longer. He had fallen.
“Gods in Hell,” Dessiter chuckled, “I never get tired of seeing that. He'll wake up soon enough and when he does, my Master would like a few words with the poor darling. It seems he's ours. I'm going to take him away, get him cleaned up and ready. I'll return him to you in due course. You might want to decide by then what you're going to do with your own fallen paladin.”
Dessiter smiled, perhaps the single most evil smile any of them have ever witnessed.
“Whatever it is, I hope its something really special. By the way, give my regards to my sister.”
He lifted Richard effortlessly in his arms and vanished in a flash of brimstone.
“Well that was interesting,” Dakota said.
She turned slowly back to Richard’s remaining knights.
“Now then,” she smiled, “what shall we do with you...?”
The Nessian Knot turned to leave the summoning chamber, their mission complete. No sooner had they reentered the chamber where they’d fought Brijit, however, than three bright flashes of light signaled the arrival of more enemies. Three large figures emerged from the light, humanoid, though mostly hidden behind plates of elaborate golden armor, the spaces in between revealing flesh of black stone.
“You,” the trio intoned in unison, each of them pointing a large finger at Tardaesha, Kelvin and Dakota respectively, “have been judged and found guilty of the crime of undeath. Such as you cannot be suffered to exist.”
Before the companions could respond, the three juggernauts each raised a wall of flames from out of thin air, separating the three vampires from one another. Jeratheon, who remained by Tardaesha’s side, stretched open his mouth and belched corrosive liquid at the creature that was trapped behind the wall with them. With a speed belying its size and bulk, the creature pinwheeled aside, avoiding the caustic blast entirely. Meanwhile, behind one of the adjacent walls, Kelvin recognized the beings for exactly what they were: marut inevitables, living machines whose sole purpose was to seek out and destroy agents of chaos wherever they could. Kelvin knew he didn’t want to face one of them all alone, so he quickly cast a spell and teleported beyond his wall. Unfortunately, his foe was capable of the same magic, and reappeared right next to him.
Tardaesha closed the distance between herself and the marut. As she drew near, however, the inevitable swung one huge fist, and when it connected, there was a tremendous thunderclap which left Tardaesha’s ears ringing. She reached out a hand and touched the marut, leaving a dark blemish of corruption on its hide. It slammed its fist into her again, but as she reeled from the blow, she saw Katarina emerge from the shadows behind the marut and drive her dagger into its lower back. When it turned to face its new assailant, Tardaesha rushed in again and layed her glowing black hands upon it.
As the marut trudged towards him, Kelvin threw out his hand and hurled a snaking tendril of flames in its path. Though the fire scorched and burned its body, the creature still came. It backhanded the wizard once, knocking him from his feet. It loomed over him and prepared to drive its fist through his chest, but a split second before the blow landed, Kelvin conjured a sphere of force around himself.
Dakota and Tardaesha battled on against their own oppressors, aided by Grumblejack and Katarina respectively. They managed to hold their own, but for every minor wound they inflicted on the maruts, the inevitables gave it back in spades. When Lemmy finally managed to burrow under the walls of flame and emerged to assist Dakota, the marut stood over him, glowering.
“Stand aside, mortal,” it rumbled. “Our grievance is not with you, but if you stand in the path of justice, you will meet the same fate as the cheaters of death.”
“Cheat this!” Lemmy countered with his usual eloquence, hurling shards of stone and metal into the marut’s face.
Kelvin had no illusions that, given time, the marut could pummel its way through his little force bubble. He had no intention of giving it that much time. He cast another spell and teleported out of his shelter, reappearing behind Jeratheon. The dragon would be a bit more formidable as a shield. Jeratheon turned his head briefly to scowl at the cowering wizard, then looked back to his mistress and unleashed his acid breath on her foe. That marut took the brunt of the blast but was not daunted. It reached towards Tardaesha and grasped her by the arm. Tardaesha felt reality warp and shift. She felt as if she were being pulled through the eye of a needle. She closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing her will. It was like she was being torn in half for an interminable moment, and then the sensation passed. She opened her eyes again and the marut was gone.
“What happened?” she asked.
“It plane-shifted,” Kelvin peeked from behind Jeratheon’s rump. “Tried to take you with it. That would not have ended well for you. Oh!”
Kelvin leaped in surprise as the marut he thought he’d left behind suddenly appeared beside him. He scrambled backwards, casting desperately as he tried to escape. Shadows swirled around him and coalesced into vaguely humanoid, yet subtly demonic forms...four of them.
“Kill it!” Kelvin commanded, pointing towards the marut.
Then he quickly encased himself in another force sphere.
Dakota continued to pepper her tormentor with arrows while Roger harried it from closer to hand. Grumblejack joined him, and together they were able to keep it at bay from the archer. As it was forced back, Katarina suddenly stepped into view behind it and drove her knife into its back with both hands. It collapsed to its knees, and as it toppled over, Roger swept its head from its shoulders.
Only one inevitable remained. The companions and their cohorts closed in on it, surrounding it on all sides. Dakota snapped off an arrow, but the marut backhanded her for her effort. Jeratheon breathed liquid death while Grumblejack charged in from the flank. The marut took the blows silently. Methodically, it conjured electricity out of thin air and sent it arcing in chains among its foes. The pain seemed to madden Jeratheon. He lunged forward and clamped his jaws around one of the marut’s log-sized arms. As it turned to hammer at the dragon with its free fist, Dakota put an arrow through the side of its neck. It stumbled and fell to one knee, and then Kelvin’s shadow demons swarmed over it. It disappeared beneath the mound of tearing claws and ripping fangs.
____________________________________________________________________
As the others made their escape from the Adarium, Katarina volunteered to discover what had transpired from Chargammon’s gambit. Sticking to the shadows, she made her way back into the upper levels of the keep. What she found when she arrived was utter chaos. Knights and servants dashed about in turmoil, uncertain as to what exactly they should be doing. Where possible, they lent aid to survivors, though there were precious few of those. The entire roof of the upper level had been ripped off, and rubble and debris was strewn from one end to the other, along with the bodies of Bellinda’s dwarven honor guard. The remains of the guardian golem lay scattered outside her chamber, but none of this held Kat’s attention for long. No, what truly gave her pause and caused her breath to catch in her throat was the sight of the blasted and torn corpse of the mighty black dragon. What power could have done such a thing? Searching quickly through the rubble of the princess’ room, she found no sign of the girl’s body. Even more troubling. Shaking her head, Kat melted back into the darkness and left the palace, eager to catch up to her companions and tell them of what had transpired.
__________________________________________________________
“So was our mission a success or a failure?” Dakota asked.
The companions of the Ninth Knot sat huddled in the room they rented in the squalid inn located in Matharyn’s seedier dock quarter.
“We were sent to kill the king,” Kelvin said. “The king is dead. The fate of his daughter is not our concern.”
“Then why hasn’t Thorn or Tiadora contacted us?” Roger asked.
No one answered. Dessiter’s warning hung unspoken in the air.
“So what now?” Tardaesha asked.
Again no one immediately replied, but then Lemmy spoke up.
“Well, I don’t know how the rest of your feel about it, but seems to me there’s currently an unguarded dragon horde back on Chargammon’s island. Ain’t like we got anything better to do.”
The dwarf’s logic was sound.
______________________________________________________________
The following evening Kelvin gathered his companions about him and cast the spell of teleportation that would transport them directly to Chargammon’s grotto. Jeratheon was too large to accompany them, but due to the bond between Tardaesha and himself, his mistress vowed to summon him to her side as soon as they arrived. As it turned out, she was a bit delayed.
When the Knot appeared in the vast cavern, the first thing that was immediately apparent was that it was not, as they had assumed, unoccupied. There was no dragon present, but something far worse...a dragon slayer. None other than Sir Richard Havelyn stood overlooking the dark pool in the center of the chamber. Beside him stood a man clad in the vestments of an Iomedaen priest, and another older man in dark robes. Scattered around the cave were at least a dozen knights of the Alerion, all armed and armored for battle. For a long moment, the two factions stood staring at each other in silence. It was Sir Richard who broke the stand off.
“You’ve taken almost everything from this country,” he said quietly. “Is it not enough? What more do you want?”
“Everything,” Tardaesha shrugged. “We want everything that was taken from and denied our family, and then we want the interest on what is owed. We will bring Talingarde to its knees, and only then will we finally declare justice served. For now, however, your country still has some bleeding to do.”
There was no need for, nor no point in further conversation. At a gesture from Sir Richard, his knights began to close in on the Knot. Kelvin didn’t wait for them. He first conjured a huge, disembodied fist which he sent charging towards the wizard to the right of the paladin. The fist struck the mage full on and left him reeling. Kelvin followed this by hurling a fireball into the midst of Sir Richard and his immediate retinue.
“Kill the wizard!” Sir Richard shouted to his men.
The approaching knights quickly sheathed their swords and unlimbered their bows. They loosed a deadly volley directly at Kelvin and their arrows struck true against the unarmored mage. Unfortunately, the skin of a vampire was as hard as stone, and the arrows simply bounced harmlessly off.
Tardaesha snapped her fingers as she suddenly remembered something.
“Jeratheon,” she said. “I completely forgot I promised him a bit of fun.”
She snapped again and the massive form of the black dragon suddenly appeared by her side.
“There he is,” Tardaesha said, pointing towards Sir Richard. “There’s the man who participated in your father’s demise.”
Jeratheon smiled.
“I’m not sure if I should thank him or eat him,” he grumbled. “Maybe I’ll do both.”
He opened his mouth and spewed acid at Sir Richard and one of his knights at the same time that the paladin’s priest called down a storm of fire from the heavens upon all of the Knot. He smiled triumphantly as he saw the blisters and burns on the hides of the devil-worshippers, but his expression turned to one of shocked bewilderment and pain when Dakota put four arrows into his chest. He slumped to one side and then tumbled into the water of the grotto.
As Kelvin conjured a wall of flames to separate the knights from their commander, Lemmy pulled flaming rocks from the earth and hurled them at Sir Richard’s face. The knights, never hesitating, charged through the firewall, only to stumble into another fiery explosion when Kelvin loosed a fireball upon them. Still, the holy warriors did not succumb. They closed rapidly towards Lemmy and Tardaesha. Roger moved to intercept them, but only managed a glancing blow at one as he ran past the anti-paladin. Shrugging, Roger turned his attention towards Sir Richard. He had full faith in his allies’ ability to defend themselves, a faith that was born out a moment later when first Tardaesha, and then Grumblejack each put a knight to the sword. Roger reached Sir Richard a moment later, and their blades clashed in hell and holy fire. Both reeled backwards in the aftermath then paused to catch their breath as they circled each other warily. Sir Richard abruptly pitched forward as Dakota shot him twice in the back. Instantly, the paladin layed hands upon himself and closed the worst of the spurting wounds. Still, his breathing was shallow and raspy. He was on his last legs. Dakota drew her bowstring again and prepared to put him out of his misery.
“Wait!” came a voice from behind the combatants.
Both camps turned at once towards the new distraction and witnessed Dessiter the contract devil emerge from the deep shadows of the grotto.
“Spare him, at least for a moment,” he said, smiling at Dakota.
He turned and approached the broken and defeated paladin.
“Richard,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “It seems my associates are about to slay you. And who can blame them after all you've done to thwart their noble aspirations? My name is Dessiter and I have been empowered by my master to extend you an offer.”
“Never,” whispered the paladin with a ragged breath.
“Never is a long time, dear Richard,” Dessiter tsked. “You have failed at your mission. Talingarde stands on the brink of disaster. Would you see your nation delivered into the hands of monsters? You can still save your people, Richard, you just have to let go of your pride. Iomedae has abandoned Talingarde and abandoned you. Tell me, if She were truly so powerful, would you lie here helpless before my associates? You've followed a false god, dear Richard. But you're in luck. My master is impressed by your skill in battle. He's impressed by your doggedness and determination. He's impressed by you, Richard. It's just that ... you're working for the wrong side. You're working for a side that has already forsaken you. Tell me Richard, will you die here in this festering swamp like a dog or will you rise once more? Will you accept our generous offer and swear allegiance to a new master? I'm afraid this is a one time offer, Richard. And judging from the look on my friends' faces, I'd say that time is quickly running out...”
The members of the Knot looked at one another meaningfully.
“If I were you, I’d take him up on his offer,” Tardaesha said with her most winning smile. “Consider the lives of your remaining men. I can assure you that if we are forced to kill you, we will deal with them next, and we will not be so merciful. In fact...,” she grinned broadly, showing her fangs, “we could use a few more undead thralls among our minions.”
Richard’s face visibly blanched.
“Well, what’s it to be?” Dessiter leaned over the paladin.
“Iomedae, why hast thou forsaken me?” Sir Richard cried to the wind.
There was a rumble deep in the earth. Everyone around the battle site could feel a dark wind moving amongst them. And then Sir Richard fell unconscious. His aura was visibly changed. He was a paladin no longer. He had fallen.
“Gods in Hell,” Dessiter chuckled, “I never get tired of seeing that. He'll wake up soon enough and when he does, my Master would like a few words with the poor darling. It seems he's ours. I'm going to take him away, get him cleaned up and ready. I'll return him to you in due course. You might want to decide by then what you're going to do with your own fallen paladin.”
Dessiter smiled, perhaps the single most evil smile any of them have ever witnessed.
“Whatever it is, I hope its something really special. By the way, give my regards to my sister.”
He lifted Richard effortlessly in his arms and vanished in a flash of brimstone.
“Well that was interesting,” Dakota said.
She turned slowly back to Richard’s remaining knights.
“Now then,” she smiled, “what shall we do with you...?”
carborundum
Adventurer
Nice! Very nice! It's all going nicely for your knot then.
Mine are almost ready to go visit the Phoenix after taking the Vale in a glorious victory. Just hit level 11 so scary.
I've a battery of questions if you have time! How did you handle all the aerial phoenix - and friends - combat? Do you remember?
They also told Dessiter to go away the first time he appeared. Not sure what to do about that yet.
Oh, and how did you rule the Contract if one of the PCs died? Is the soul off to Asmodeus and no raise dead?
All the best to the Knot!
Mine are almost ready to go visit the Phoenix after taking the Vale in a glorious victory. Just hit level 11 so scary.
I've a battery of questions if you have time! How did you handle all the aerial phoenix - and friends - combat? Do you remember?
They also told Dessiter to go away the first time he appeared. Not sure what to do about that yet.
Oh, and how did you rule the Contract if one of the PCs died? Is the soul off to Asmodeus and no raise dead?
All the best to the Knot!
Similar Threads
AD6_gamerati_skyscraper
Upcoming Releases
-
April 16 2024 -
May 31 2024 -
June 3 2024 -
June 4 2024 -
June 18 2024 -
July 16 2024 -
September 17 2024 -
October 1 2024 -
November 12 2024 -
February 18 2025
