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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Joe Jolly" data-source="post: 7467279" data-attributes="member: 6870626">4 Neth, 4718 - Till Death Do Us PartTwo months passed. The Ninth Knot decided not to immediately put Thorn’s phylactery to use due to the imminent birth of Dakota’s child. The baby girl was perfect in every way, and Dakota named her Heaven Leigh, eliciting more than a few eye rolls from her siblings. The baby would remain the capable care of her father when Dakota returned to the mission. In the interim, Katarina had her own issues to deal with. The morning after they’d left Nythoggr’s cairn, Kat had awakened with a burning sensation in the middle of her forehead. When she’d looked in a mirror, she was shocked to find a jackal-headed tattoo staring back at her. She immediately consulted Kelvin.“Well,” he sighed after examining the mark, “this is what comes of making hasty, irrational decisions.”“Spare me your lectures,” Kat snapped. “Especially since half of my family made the irrational decision to become vampires!”Kelvin steepled his fingers. “As I was saying,” he continued, “in this situation, it appears the bargain you made with that glabrezu was not without attached strings. At least with a fiend, you would have had a contract. Never trust a demon.”“What sort of...‘strings?’” Kat’s eyes narrowed.“That tattoo is his mark,” Kelvin replied. “Through it he will be able to scry upon your every movement. He may be able to force a request from you. A geas if you will.”“Well how do I get the damned thing off??” Kat clawed at her skin.“It can only be removed by destroying the one who created it,” Kelvin said calmly.“Well then we need to find that bastard!” Kat screeched.“I’ve already taken the liberty of doing that,” Kelvin frowned. “I performed a divination this morning, and asked where he could be found.”“Well??” Kat flapped her hands.“The response I received,” Kelvin said, “was ‘with your greatest enemy.’”______________________________________________________________________Kat was bitter, but she didn’t waste time sulking. She understood that she could not, and should not, be privy to any plans involving Thorn, not with the glabrezu spying on her. Still, it galled her. She had sworn an oath to her siblings that she would never betray the family...at least not knowingly. They did not question her loyalty, but nevertheless they kept their plans to themselves. So when Kelvin summoned her to his study, she was taken completely by surprise when the others stepped out of the shadows, seized her, and then teleported as a group.It should have come as no surprise to any of them who knew its history that the Agathium was the perfect stronghold for a lich mastermind such as Thorn, since it was first constructed by another lich centuries ago. The man who would become the Nameless Tyrant was a villain who afflicted the Iraen long before the Talireans first came to the island. He built the secret stronghold in the far north to hide his schemes and machinations. Of course, he was defeated long ago and all that remained of him was the caged demilich the Ninth Knot had found in a dragon's vault. The keep presented black and red veined stone buttresses and leering gargoyles rising from the ice. A circular stained glass window of gigantic proportions dominated the cathedral’s facade. In glass and stone, devotion to Asmodeus was clearly shown. It was an out of place edifice. It was a church meant for thousands of petitioners, yet there was little sign of traffic. The entire site spoke of a waiting faith. It suggested a day when the infernal faith of the devil god would no longer hide and when pilgrims by their thousands would make the long journey to the hidden temple lost in that world of ice.The companions cautiously approached the entryway into the main cathedral.  There was a massive double door that rose almost twelve feet. Every inch of the portal was adorned with nine great iron bands etched with devils dancing through briars. The servants of hell swirled through burning thorn bushes, bowing only before the great image at the top of the door – smiling Asmodeus wearing a crown of thorns. Suddenly, a hazy illusion manifested in front of the door. It was Thorn in his human guise.“Do you remember the manor along the old moor road?” Thorn’s image asked. “Do you remember desperately fleeing the baying hounds of Branderscar? I was with you then, my children, when all others called you forsaken. And I am with you now. Return what you have stolen. Return the phylactery and all will be forgiven. If you will not, then only death awaits inside.”The image faded.“Well that’s comforting,” Dakota smiled. “All is forgiven. I guess we should just leave his heart on the doorstep and turn around and go home now.”“I have a better idea,” Tardaesha sneered as she walked up to the door. “I’ll feed it to him in person.”“Wait!” Kelvin said, gripping he shoulder. “The door’s trapped. I can sense strong magic.”“Well obviously it’s trapped,” Kat sighed, shouldering Tardaesha aside. “This IS the fortress of a lich-priest, after all. What did you expect?”She examined the door for several seconds, then reached out and touched some of the carvings in a specific order.“There,” she said, straightening. “I know none of you trust me, but it’s safe. I’ll go first.”The ground level of the Agathium was one great open hall. The atrium upon which the front doors opened was roughly the first third of the cathedral. The massive chamber was a masterpiece of baroque architecture raised not by mortal hands but by undead and infernal labor and the divine will of Asmodeus. Stairs rose on one side of the atrium leading up to a grand balcony that overlooked the massive space. The ceiling was vaulted, rising more than a hundred feet at the apex of the dome. Ribs of black marble connected to broad pillars that supported the ceiling. The ceiling murals depicted the frolicking of devils, and at the center of them all sat a magnificent king upon his ebon throne – red skinned, horned, infinitely wise and ultimately implacable – Asmodeus himself. The devil god smiled for he knew his victory was inevitable. The walls were all richly decorated in almost unfathomable detail. Everywhere one looked it seemed there was some other frieze, statue or carving. All of those countless works were united in their themes. They showed the supremacy and power of hell and promised rewards and rulership to those who would but subsume their will to the greatest of all Wills – immortal Asmodeus. In the center of the façade was the great rose window seen from the other side. It permitted what scarce light there was to be found from the often grim and overcast skies of the savage north. Flickering everburning torches set in wrought iron sconces provided more illumination. The space was so great however, that the pale magical flame of the torches seemed inadequate to fill it and so the corners of the great space were cast into shadow. The floor was adorned with marble tiles of black and red arranged in intricate geometric patterns, and was polished to a mirror shine that reflected the light of torch and window. Though grand, there was little about that place that seemed inviting to men and their kin. The great stone walls and buttresses might provide shelter from the cruel wind and drifting snow but the place was in no way heated and was well below freezing. The biting cold and oppressive persistence of dark stone emphasized again and again that it was a temple made by and for devils rather than men. Two long rows of columns ran the length of the atrium and, in fact, the entire great hall of the Cathedral. There were twenty of them in total. Each column was uniquely adorned and depicted a different rank in the grand and intricate hierarchy of the hells. Yet for all the adornments of the Cathedral, none of it was what the companions first noticed, for the atrium was neither empty nor unguarded. Five giants, pale-skinned and heavily bearded, stood in the middle of the vast space. Four of them were impressive specimens, clad in bear skins and chain mail, and wielding great axes. The fifth, however, was something else entirely. He was massive, easily twice as tall as his companions. His body seemed almost carved out of deep compressed glacier ice – sapphire blue and iron hard. His breathe steamed with primal hoarfrost. His great beard cascaded down his face like an avalanche of icicles. He hefted a greataxe most giants couldn’t even lift as if it were a toy. He was a vision of the ice titans of old who once stood in defiance of all the gods. This, then, was Ingolf Issox, The Ice Axe, king of the northern frost giants.“Finally,” he grumbled from deep in his throat as he raised his weapon and stalked forward.The Ninth Knot did not shy from the challenge. They moved through the doors, but as they did, beams of green light shot out from the door itself, disintegrating stone and tile wherever they struck. The companions scattered, but one beam grazed Katarina as she leaped aside, removing a large hunk of flesh from her calf. She cursed herself for having failed to disable the trap, knowing her friends would already be second-guessing her. As they regrouped, Kelvin began lobbing fireballs among the giants, sending the lesser ones yowling and smoking to escape the blasts. The king ignored the flames and closed to Grumblejack, the most physically impressive of his opponents, and therefore, in his mind, the most challenging. They locked blades, but even with his massive size and strength, Grumblejack was dwarfed by the giant. Unwillingly, he gave ground. The others engaged the king’s guards, felling them with blade and bow, assisted by the acidic spew of Jeratheon’s breath. One by one, the giants went down until, at last, only Ingolf still stood. He did not seem to care. He layed about him with his axe like a farmer scything wheat. It took all of the Knot to bring him to his knees, arrows protruding from him like a pin cushion, flesh melted from him by acid, and still he refused to die. Finally, with one last mighty gasp, he fell, his axe clattering to the floor and melting into a pool of water. As he breathed his last, the doors of the cathedral slammed shut. ______________________________________________________________________The Knot moved down the length of the cathedral and into the nave. In floor, wall and ceiling the decor remained largely unchanged from the entry. The major difference was the statuary. Adorning the walls were many exquisitely made marble statues depicting guardian cornugons brandishing their spiked chains as if about to lash some unseen foe. There were two side chambers, less distinct than vestries but still separated from the nave proper. These chambers were similarly adorned to the main processional. In each of the side chambers was carved a great statue of a pit fiend with its wings folded around the main body. In front of the pit fiend on a podium was a book of infernal prayers. As the companions moved past, a large figure stepped from one of side chambers. She was a true beauty of frost giant-kind. Her skin was flawless like smooth ice and soft cerulean, ranging in shade from light blue fading evenly to gentle hues of violet. Her hair was long and straight like a cascade of golden cornsilk intricately braided. Her eyes were equally golden and sparkled like the aurora. Her shape was pleasing and curvaceous. She was as beautiful a frost giant as anyone was likely ever to meet, even if she was short for her kind, being only a scant thirteen feet in height. Grumblejack stared at her, open-mouthed.“I am Queen Ellisif, wife to The Ice Axe,” she said.The queen's demeanor was of one used to being obeyed. Her voice was surprisingly soft and gentle for one of her size. She wore well-tailored skins and furs and a necklace of the shields of would-be giant slayers. She was adorned with heavy iron arm-bands  resplendent with fine knotwork far too large for any man to wear and yet on her they seemed delicate. “Sorry to tell you that you’re a widow now,” Dakota sneered. “Unless, that is, you’re looking to join your dear-departed husband.”“What a fool my dolt of a husband was to charge such powerful servants of the High-god Asmodeus,” Ellisif smirked. “I would beg your forgiveness but I see that he has met the eventual fate of all idiots. Well done, champions of hell. I would guess from all the noise and commotion at your arrival that you are the Ninth Knot, yes?”“You are addressing the High Priestess of Asmodeus in Talingarde,” Dakota said sternly, indicating Tardaesha.“Thorn has spoken extensively of you,” Ellisif nodded. “He described you as extremely dangerous foes and untrustworthy monsters who will do anything to get what they want. Rarely have I heard the Cardinal heap such praise upon visitors. I presume that you are here to kill Cardinal Thorn.”The companions of the Knot glanced at one another.“Ah, I can see I'm right,” Ellisif continued. “You are embarked upon a difficult and dangerous mission. He is downstairs imbedded in his fortress. There are traps, his lieutenants and worse. Of course, while I can't claim to know everything that Thorn's prepared for you, I do know quite a bit. If only we could come to some sort of arrangement, I would be only too pleased to help. I've told you what I can offer. What do can you offer me, O Lords of the Ninth Knot?”“What would a Queen require of ones such as us in exchange for her magnanimous offer?” Tardaesha spoke up, one eyebrow raised in bemusement. “Simply this,” Ellisif replied, “a blood oath upon the altar of Asmodeus that lies in the narthex, that the Ninth Knot will include me in the privy council when a new king of Tal-ingarde is chosen, and that you will guarantee the traditional lands of the frost giants.”The companions looked from one to another, and then at Tardaesha. She remained silent for a moment, and then smiled broadly.“I can see the wisdom in such an alliance,” she said, “but we too shall require a binding oath from you...in the form of a marriage proposal.”“What??” Ellisif gaped.“You are a widow now,” Tardaesha said, “and therefore marriage-eligible once more. Many great alliances are born of matrimony. I humbly beg you to consider the proposal of my boon companion, Grumblejack.”Now it was Grumblejack’s turn to sputter, yet for all his strength and power, he remained speechless. Ellisif turned her gaze to him, appraising. Then a small smile crossed her lips. “I agree.”___________________________________________________________________The altar of Asmodeus was as beautiful as it was obviously evil. Made of black marble lined in gold, it was all over decorated in infernal aphorisms praising the wisdom of the Devil God and cursing the heavens above that found him unfit to reign. A great golden thorned star dominated the back plate and made it clear whose cathedral it was. Legions of eternal candles illuminated the black altar, bathing it in pale light. Upon the altar an athame and prayer scroll sat awaiting use. Behind the altar, etched upon the floor, was a small circle of gold. The circle contained an Asmodean star. At the center of the altar was a great golden bowl encrusted with precious bloodstones permanently inset into the black stone. This was the Vascellum Cruoris – the Urn of Spilt Blood. There was an inscription along the rim of the bowl in the infernal tongue: “The truth is blood upon the altar.”Tardaesha approached the altar, and as she did so, Helbrand whispered into Roger’s ear.“Let me by thy athame.”Roger drew the infernal blade and offered it to Tardaesha. She read from the prayer scroll, and then drew Hellbrand across the palms of both Grumblejack and Ellisif. As their blood pooled in the Vascellum Cruoris, it was consumed in Hellfire and brimstone, and all present felt the dark blessing of Asmodeus encompass them. Further, Helbrand was bathed in infernal power. It glowed bright red for a moment, its runes blazing with infernal majesty. The blade was infused with a powerful connection to Hell itself. It spoke again to Roger in Infernal: “The blade is transfigured. Upon the Throne of Nessus, He whispers and I listen.”Roger knew, that from that moment forward, he would be able to commune with his Lord in person.The ceremony was completed, and the newlyweds joined, consummating their unholy union upon the dark altar. After, Ellisif told the Nessian Knot all that she knew. She drew a simple map outlining the lower level, and where she believed Thorn’s throne to be. She knew that the Second Knot was tasked with protecting Thorn. That knot was led by the anti-paladin Wolfram. Wolfram was a grave and humorless man she had never seen out of his armor. He only came to the upper level when accompanying Thorn and, since Thorn was not leaving, he was somewhere in the lower levels; doubtless patrolling for intruders. Though she didn’t know why, Wolfram was fanatically dedicated to the Cardinal and took his word as law. Trying to bribe or corrupt Wolfram was almost certainly a waste of time. Wolfram commanded  a small company of undead knights. Fighting them all together would be a vicious fight. Best to divide and conquer. There was also a wizard who served Thorn. His name was Grigori Sherkov. He was mad and very dangerous. He conducted all sorts of strange experiments and created both monsters and magic items for the Cardinal. He was a powerful necromancer and could often be found in his lab working on one unfathomable project or another. His loyalties were uncertain and very unpredictable. When you dealt with a mad man, she advised, you should expect madness. There were more than the usual defenders in the lower levels recently.  She had heard strange growling sounds and the sound of crackling lightning. She did not know its exact source, but clearly Thorn had been busy with some project.  Somewhere in the lower level there was a hidden vault. Several times she had heard Sherkov speak of wanting to get something from the vault to Thorn. He must know where it was, but Ellisif had no idea. “With someone as paranoid as Cardinal Thorn,” she said, “you can bet its guarded by something monstrous and horrific.” ____________________________________________________________________Regardless of her vow and oath, Ellisif refused to accompany the Knot into the lower levels. The companions took their leave of her, after she gave one last, lingering kiss to Grumblejack. They descended one of the stairwells in the cathedral that led to the temple sublevel. They found themselves at an intersection of wide hallways, with several doors leading off of it. One long passage opened into a spartan guardroom. Six figures stood motionless and silent there, but as the companions stepped into the hall, they all turned six pairs of balefully glowing eyes upon them. They were clad in archaic armor, and wielded ancient weapons. What could be seen of their faces was drawn and emaciated, and an odd clacking could be heard as they started walking towards the intruders, like dry sticks banging together. Unfortunately for the grave knights, the Nessian Knot had come loaded for the undead. Dakota immediately reached for the special arrows she’d had crafted, designed specifically to disrupt the negative energy that kept the undead animate. She began loosing shaft after shaft into the oncoming soldiers. If there was one thing Kelvin knew about the undead, being one himself, it’s that they universally burned well. He supplemented Dak’s fussilade with fireballs, while Grumblejack, Roger and Jeratheon simply waded into the melee. The grave knights fought back with blasts of black acid that spewed from their hands, but their efforts could not save them. The Knot left them as a smoking pile of bone and rags.Wasting no time on investigating side chambers, the companions followed Ellisif’s map directly to what was marked as Thorn’s throne room. They made their final preparations outside the tall, double iron doors adorned with the great seal of Asmodeus, and then burst through them. The chamber beyond was ornate but less so than the great baroque cathedral above. All across the walls were depicted legions of devils of every sort locked in vicious but victorious combat against the angelic legions of the higher planes. The back wall was nothing but the images of dozens of angels impaled on iron spikes – a great mural of hell triumphant. The floor and ceiling continued the theme. The tiles were checkerboarded black and white. Each large white tile showed the bleeding corpse of an angel or archon of various types. Each black tile showed a grinning devil marching towards the throne centered into a niche along the back wall. Seated upon the throne was a skeletal figure in a black priest's robe with a silver holy symbol of Asmodeus around its neck. The skeleton looked up at them. It reached out its arms towards them and hissed but did not rise.“The Ninth Knot... come at last,” said the voice of Thorn. “Is there no way that we might be united once more? Can there be no peace between us?” “Yes,” Tardaesha replied as she stepped into the room, “there can be peace. Come and kneel before me. Pledge your undying loyalty to me.”“Wait,” Kelvin said. “Something’s not...,”Light began to shimmer around Tardaesha.“Move!” Kelvin warned.Tardaesha didn’t hesitate. She leaped nimbly to one side as a cube of translucent force coalesced around where she’d just been standing. As it sealed shut, a storm of blades appeared inside it as it was hauled up to the ceiling. “It’s a trap!” Kelvin cried. “That’s not Thorn!”Dakota proved that point a moment later as she fired an arrow into the chest of the skeletal figure and it disintegrated into dust. Tardaesha hastily backed out of the room as the doors slammed shut.“Well played,” Kat said. “Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.”“Did...did Ellisif lie to us?” Grumblejack asked, true sorrow in his eyes.“No, I don’t think so,” Kelvin said. “I doubt she was ever truly allowed into Thorn’s presence. I doubt he trusted the giants that much. He likely used this place and that skeleton as a mouth piece when he wanted to make his will known.”Grumblejack looked visibly relieved.Tardaesha started back down the hall.“No matter,” she said. “He can’t hide from me forever.”</blockquote>

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