"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV - Into the Fire [STORY HOUR COMPLETED - 12/25/06]

Session #94 (part i)

The Keepers of the Gate enacted their plan. Kazrack moved as if to pass through the black portal into the Light Room, and as expected the triodrone stood threateningly moving towards him.

“None may leave with out Gilbart’s leave,” It said, in its flat voice. “No leave to leave.”

The dwarf turned suddenly and bullrushed the modron, driving back into the wall as the others hurried over and grabbed up their weapons. The thing stabbed at him with a spear drawing blood.

“You may not reclaim your weapons,” the tridrone said. “You do not have leave to take or leave to leave.”

“Just run past it,” Kazrack called to the others. “It cannot hurt us… much…”

Roland of Bast hurried through the portal and was followed by Martin the Green. Bastian stepped aside and let Sergio got through first, before following himself. Ratchis and Gunthar went through, and Kazrack went through last.

The dwarf heard Martin cry out in pain as another kind of modron they had not seen before stabbed at him with a spear. The modron had a long rectangular body. It had two arms forward on the body and two backward bending legs, all of which ended in clasping hoof-like claws. It had wings springing from its side as well, but only one large eye above a black swollen mouth. Its body was the pinkish-orange flesh of the rest of its kind. (1)

This chamber seemed to be the same width and length as the others, but much like the Hell room its ceiling was only about twenty feet above them, not the great height of the earthen Audience Chamber or the Air Room that held the guest quarters. The room was brightly lit and its walls were plated with polished brass depicting intertwining suns, stars, moons, trees and other objects of the heavens and of nature. Immediately in front of the portal was the back of a flat lacquered heavy wooden screen about fifteen feet long. The Keepers of the Gate spread out around it and Gunthar drove his the Left Blade of Arofel through the attacking modron and it farted out yellow pus-like blood and collapsed.

“We shouldn’t kill those unless we have to,” Bastian frowned, but his voice never rose.

”Gods forgive us this sacrilege!” Martin moaned.

“Oh, shaddap!” Gunthar bellowed. “You have a Set-lovin’ death-face and you say I’m causing sacrilege?”

“Bastian is right,” Kazrack said. “Do not kill them. If we must fight them, we will do as we did before. Grapple or bulrush them back through a portal. If we must use weapons, attack to subdue.”

Gunthar rolled his eyes.

Roland walked over and applied minor healing on the duodrone before it bled out.

The Keepers of the Gate spread out around the screen and saw more of the chamber. A wooden screen in three sections cordoned off each corner of the chamber. The rear of each one held a statue that faced into the center of the room. (2)

On the far end of the right side of the room was a statue of a bare-breasted cat-headed woman. It was mostly made of gold, but had beautiful amber and tiger-eye adornment. The statue was atop a two-foot tall pedestal and was nearly seven feet tall itself. This was Bast.

On the closer corner of the right side of the room was a statue carved of basalt adorned with onyx. It was the jackal-headed god, Anubis, his arms open as if in supplication. One hand held an ankh and the other a crook-like scepter.

On the far side of the left of the room was the solid gold statue nearly eight feet tall of a hawk-headed man bearing a crown. Ra’s arms were folded and he held a golden crook in one hand and a flail in the other. An ankh was carved upon his crown.

Lastly, the statue on the left side and closer to them was carved of basalt. It was of a tall stooped man without an animal head, but with a great misshapen bald head. He was tall and thin and stooped and did not look regal at all, but this statue was adorned with gold, silver, platinum, and diamonds. This was Ptah.

There was a similar screen as the one they walked around on the other side of the room, obscuring what they assumed was another black portal beyond. A painting hung on it and the turned to see a painting hung on this side of the first screen as well. Two more portals led out of the room to the left and right, not covered by screens.

In the very center of the room was the most amazing sight of all. There were four tall mithral pylons that formed the four corners of a cage made of bars of light that emerged from the marble tiled floor and stopped at the stone top of the enclosure the pylons held up. The whole thing was about fifteen feet to a side, and inside of it was a marble pedestal. Atop the pedestal lay a book with a thick gold cover.

“Wow… Agh!” Martin the Green cried out in astonishment as his eyes burned from the magic present in room the moment his detect magic spell came into effect.

Another duodrone stepped into the room from the portal on the left, and Kazrack hurried over and shoved it back through. It came back and he pushed it again.

“I could use some help,” Kazrack groaned.

“Whatever. Is that solid gold?” Gunthar reached out to touch the statue of Ra.

“Touch nothing!” Ratchis cried out, moving over to slam a shoulder into the modron, driving it back out of the room. It did not return.

“This is a sacred place,” Martin said, walking over to the Neergaardian. “We should not touch anything unless we have to, and even then only in reverent fashion.”

Roland nodded.

The watch-mage saw something flash across the top of the wall in one corner over where the screen behind the statue of Bast was. When he looked again, there was nothing there. He frowned and something in the rotting patch on his face popped and was forced to dab at the rotten smelling pus that came seeping out.

“You’re disgusting,” Gunthar muttered.

“I am sorry I left you to make such a horrible decision,” Ratchis said to Kazrack solemnly as he reached down to help the dwarf to his feet.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Kazrack replied, quietly. “You fell and were near death yourself. We have all fallen. I am only sorry that that decision needed to be made at all.”

“So,” the dwarf turned to the others. “There are portals to the Heavens here? Or we are closer to them or something?”

Martin the Green came around the screen that was behind the statue of Ra. On the center panel within the screen was a bright gold mirror in the shape of the sun. The watch-mage cried out again. The light of it had nearly blinded him.

“Yes, I assume behind each of these screens is an object or altar keyed to a particular plane,” Martin said. “I guess this one goes to the Heavens.”

“So the one marked by my goddess’ visage must lead to the Beastlands!” Roland said, happily.

“Yes, that must be this one,” Martin the Green replied as he went around the screen by the statue of Bast still rubbing his burning eyes. The Keepers of the Gate cried out as one as great writhing dun-colored tentacles with spots of pink and green came out of the upper wall to grab the watch-mage. Whatever the thing was, its body was beyond the wall, which seemed to just blink out existence where the tentacles emerged from it. “Help! The wall is eating me!”

“Finally! Something to kill!” Gunthar ran over, sword drawn, but in a moment one of the tentacles grabbed him about the leg and pulled him up as well. Roland roared as he transformed into his black panther shape. Bastian slammed his warhammer at a tentacle, but its rubbery consistency did not seem to give, but the thing yanked Gunthar higher up out of reach. As Ratchis and Kazrack hustled to come around the other side of the screen to help Martin, the watch-mage tried to cast alter self to slip out of the thing’s grip. But the tentacle squeezed and the Martin cried out, losing his concentration on the spell. However, in the next moment, the mantle of green and black flame that sometimes enveloped the watch-mage burst into being around him, a spasm went up the two tentacles that had grabbed him, and they let go. Martin the Green dropped the floor with a thud.

“Oh my!” Sergio pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and covered his mouth when he saw the vile tentacles writhing through the wall and the malevolent green and black flame licking around Martin. “I don’t know about this…” The self-professed diplomat withdrew.

Kazrack twisted past the fop and hacked at the tentacles with his halberd, Ratchis right beside him with his greatsword, as Martin crawled away from the melee.

“What kind of foul necromancy is it you are using, sir mage?” Sergio asked Martin as the watch-mage stood and turned to take in the tactical situation. “I cannot say that I condone such things.”

Sergio withdrew from Martin and made his way around the paneled screen behind the statue of Anubis towards the melee again.

“Bast! Though who art as graceful as thou art powerful! Your humble servant asks that you smite this aberration from beyond the planes!” Roland called in his human voice, though he was still in panther form. However, the holy energy seemed to dispense too quickly and he though perhaps the thing had resisted his spell.

Gunthar managed to push off one of the two tentacles that held him, but the two that had been holding Martin whipped onto him and he grunted with pain as the thing pulled him back towards the wall.

Lentus!” Martin cast, but the thing resisted that spell as well. (3)

A song on his lips, Sergio leapt forward and touched Gunthar on his dangling foot. He withdrew again. (4)

Gunthar grunted again and finally was able to break free from the four tentacles that held him leaping to the floor with a curse and spitting blood. Kazrack was whipped across the face by one of the tentacles, but slapped it away with the blade of his pole-axe before it could grasp him.

“Pull back!” Ratchis called, withdrawing. “It may not be able to reach us in the center of the room.”

The Keepers of the Gate obeyed their companion and the tentacled-thing pulled itself back through the wall. There was a flash across that corner of the wall, as if the side of the room were disappearing, revealing a speckled blue darkness beyond that exuded a disorienting sensation. And then the wall was back.

“It seems the veils between the planes are deteriorating even here in Hurgun’s domain,” Martin said. He sat down, clutching at his ribs and grimacing as he coughed blood. The mantle of green and black flame around him disappeared leaving a sulfurous smell behind, and Roland walked over to heal him.

“That seems like a handy spell,” Bastian commented to the watch-mage.

“It is the work of the Book of Black Circles,” Martin replied.

“Well you used it at just the right time or else those tentacle things might have pulled you through to wherever in the Hells it comes from,” Bastian said.

“I did not use it,” Martin said. “It wants to be used. It wants to help and be convenient to use, but the cost for this convenience is my soul, or perhaps my very identity.”

“Oh, then you shouldn’t use it then,” Bastian replied quietly.

“What is that place?” Gunthar asked, point to one of the paintings on this side of the screen that by the portal the party came through. It was a shining silver city upon a cloud that sat on a mountain. The sky around it was starless and dark blue.

“I believe that is the heavens of the gods of the Northern Reaches,” Martin answered.

“What are we even doing here?” Ratchis complained, but before anyone could answer two more duodrones came through one of the black portals without a screen before it.

“Return to your quarters. You do not have leave to wander,” the two duodrones said, alternating syllables. They moved forward, spears in hand, but suddenly the tentactled monster came through the wall and snatched up the rear modron, crushing it easily and then ripping off limbs and wings with the other psuedopods.

“Can we kill these things yet?” Gunthar asked, looking around for his sword. He saw it on the floor under where the tentacles dragged the poor modron through the wall.

“No! We are not killing them, jack-ass!” Ratchis roared his reply. “Just push them away.”

“Well, the monster is killing them, so who’ll know the difference?” Gunthar asked. He saw the half-orc glare are at him again and tense up. “Fine. You take care of it, Snuffles. I am here to rescue my brother and find some neat stuff to bring out of here, not to push freaks around.”

Ratchis growled and drove his shoulder into the duodrone’s side, shoving it towards the black portal the party came through. Kazrack cam up along side his companion and slapped the flat of his halberd into the modron, but it seemed to do no good, even when he jabbed it repeatedly with the butt end of the haft. (5) The dudodrone stabbed at Ratchis with its spear, drawing blood, but finally the two priests were able to shove it through the portal. It tried to come back through and they shoved it again.

“Please ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh,” the modron’s voice seemed stuck somehow as it tried to come through once more, but once more it was pushed back.

Meanwhile, Bastian walked over to Sergio who was slowly bringing his hand between the bars of light in the center of the chamber. “Is it safe to pass through?”

Sergio jumped a little and drew back his hand quickly letting out a low breath and hanging his head back.

“I was planning on trying to not touch it and have to find out,” Sergio replied, a snide tone creeping into his voice.

“We should go back,” Ratchis announced, getting up from being crouched and ready to deal with the duodrone if it returned. He left Kazrack to stand there as he walked over to the others. “There is nothing to accomplish here and we are not ready to deal with the demoness or whatever else has to be dealt with. We should return to the Air Room and rest, just as the modrons insist.”

Kazrack nodded his agreement.

“We should not second guess our plans,” Roland said. “We should travel on through the gate to the Beastlands. Chochokpi said we would while we were here, and here we are…”

“I saw Chochokpi, or at least some kind of tree depicted in wood carving I saw before that thing grabbed hold of me,” Martin said, point to the screen by the statue of Bast. “I think if we did go through that gate the Tree would not be far.”

“And what are we going to do once we are there?” asked Kazrack.

“We could gain the aid of other servants of my goddess, powerful servants,” Roland replied. “Anyway, you need to go see Chochokpi.”

“We can’t go anywhere,” Ratchis said. “We have no assurances that the Beastlands will not be as dangerous, if not more so, than this place. I know little of Bast’s realm, but what I do know is that those who walk on two legs are not always welcome.”

“But as you can see, I have four legs,” Roland said. He was still in panther-form, so he rolled over onto his back playfully and stretched, waving his four paws in the air.

“You know we can see your tally-wacker when you do that, right?” Gunthar snickered.

“I will not go to the Beastlands unless we do not see Chochokpi,” Kazrack said, hefting his magical halberd, Beáth-agh. “We are not prepared to give up our gifts of yet. We will need this fine weapon to destroy the demoness.”

Roland rolled back up to his feet and let out a yelp of frustration. “I think you hold on too tightly to these gifts. They may have already served their purpose, or perhaps we are meant to sacrifice them and achieve our victory by our own means. Did not Chochokpi say that we had not yet accomplished our mission when we gave him the items to give back to us.” (6)

“If this place is dangerous to walk on two legs, and the rest of us are unwilling to part with our gifts as of yet, why don’t you go and find this aid on your own?” Kazrack suggested.

Everyone contemplated the suggestion silently for a moment.

“Roland,” Martin began. “I trust your instincts in this. If you think that going to the Beastlands will aid our cause, then perhaps you should go…alone…”

Roland pawed over to the statue of Bast and sat before it. “Great Queen Bast. I sit before your visage in thy favored form and beg your aid.” The Bastite laid down before the statue and bared his neck. “I come in proper obeisance and ask that you do not turn me away when I enter your realm and seek your aid directly…”

The Bastite continued to pray in quiet contemplation. Ratchis laid down on the ground and rested his head on his pack and tried to catch some winks while they waited. Kazrack kept his eyes open, watching the portals for more modrons, occasionally eyeing the corner of the room where the shimmer of non-existence would wash over it now and again.

“Hey! There something missing over here!” Gunthar’s voice came from behind the screen adorned with the statue of Anubis. “I think this is a clue. Stuff like this is always a clue of some kind in the stories…”

Martin walked around the screen and was awed by what he saw there. There was a black iron gate with nasty spines along the top behind which was a depth of utter blackness. It was cold behind this screen. Gunthar pointed to a peg on another panel of the screen and the outline of dust below it.

“Hmmm, it looks to have been a horn some sort,” Martin said. “And guessing from the amount of dust around it I’d say it was taken relatively recently. Then again, with the fluctuations in time that are occurring…”

“Fluctuations in time?” asked Bastian coming around the screen as well.

“Yes, well I was thinking about how from what Gilbart and the Lady Aureliana said, that time has flowed in two ways here in the Maze since whatever happened happened.”

“What do you mean time has flowed two ways?” Sergio asked, walking over as he slicked down his mustache with a wet finger.

“I mean, that if we assume that the ‘closing’ of Hurgun’s Maze of the legend coincides with his being trapped by the time elemental, which was soon after you were trapped in the Mirror,” Martin turned to the bard. “It means that you have been trapped in here for about one hundred and fifty years, but Lady Aureliana said it felt like perhaps four to her.”

”Could that not just be a feature of the outlook of her kind if they are long-lived?” Bastian asked. “I mean, yes it has been over a hundred years, but her description of what it felt like doesn’t mean that time is acting screwy. It could be that Hurgun was allowing guests from other realms into his Maze after closing the Maze from Aquerra.”

“One hundred and fifty years?” Sergio’s eyes were wide open as was his mouth.

“I am afraid so,” Martin replied. “Everyone you know is likely dead.”

Sergio Fontane stood up straight, his body becoming rigid for a moment, and then he slowly relaxed. “Well, I guess I won’t have to worry about that little incident in Zootsburg anymore!” He laughed and walked away.

Bastian and Martin looked at each other and shrugged.

“So this is the gate to the realm of Anubis?” Gunthar asked, point to the iron gate.

“Yes.”

“So, this is the way I need to go to rescue Jeremy,” Gunthar said.

“I don’t recommend it,” Martin said. “Anubis does not take kindly to living visitors in the realm of the dead.”

“But here we are and you all said you’d help me get Jeremy back if I helped you with this thing, and here I am helping,” Gunthar reasoned.

“We cannot afford to make a side trek into the realm of Anubis,” Martin said. “At least not until we have fixed the situation with the Maze.”

“Oh, but the pussycat can go traipsing off to La-la land, right?” Gunthar spat. “I see how it is. I guess I’ll have to go alone.”

“But… but we still need your help,” Martin stammered. “If you go through there you might never come back. You probably won’t ever come back…”

“Don’t worry your ugly rotten little head,” Gunthar smirked. “I am a man of virtue. I’ll keep my word and help your sorry asses, but when this thing is done, Hurgun or no Hurgun, I’m going through that gate, and any of you bleedin’ filth that has a conscience will come with me.”

The Neergaardian walked off.

“Wow, he really loved his brother, huh?” Bastian said.

“He never even knew him,” Martin replied.

”I am going,” Roland announced soon after.

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Notes:

(1) This is a duodrone. [sblock]
duodrone.gif
[/sblock]

(2) Look within the sblock to see the Light Room’s layout and how some of the action occurred: [sblock]
light_room.gif
[/sblock]

(3) DM’s Note: This creature, a dharculus from the 3.0 Manual of the Planes has SR 20.

(4) Sergio cast Freedom of Movement.

(5) DM’s Note: Modrons are immune to subdual damage.

(6) See Session # 84
 
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Great stuff... must have been really frustrating for you waiting for the players to make a decision. The room is really cool, I am always impressed by the attention to detail you give the religions of the world.
 

Richard Rawen said:
Great stuff... must have been really frustrating for you waiting for the players to make a decision. The room is really cool, I am always impressed by the attention to detail you give the religions of the world.

Thanks!

As for frustration: Naw! :) After the nearly four hour long Commune debacle back in Nikar, anything else was a cakewalk in comparison, in terms of being frustrated with them. :]

Oh, and thanks for dropping a note. I was starting to think no one had read the last installment. ;)
 


I find that Hurgun's Maze is nothing like I expected it to be, and yet everything that it should be. Each of the rooms has a distinct feeling and purpose. The growing dissension about what to do now is quite interesting, because there are so many options and so many consequences. As always, I greatly enjoyed it.

~hf
 


handforged said:
I find that Hurgun's Maze is nothing like I expected it to be, and yet everything that it should be.
~hf

Ooh! Oooh! I love this kind of thing! What did you expect? In fact, anyone who wants to chime in on that topic (including my players) is welcome to do so. . . :cool:
 


part 2 of 3

Session #94 (part ii)

“As I said before, I trust your instincts in this,” Martin the Green told the Bastite. “If you feel you should go, then go…”

“You should do what you feel is right, of course,” Bastian said in his quiet way.

“We should wake Ratchis and tell him of this,” Kazrack said. “You would do well to get his sound advice before going.”

“Let him sleep,” Roland replied. “He would only argue with me and I find it best to simply do what I think is best with out asking. It is my typical method.”

“Very well,” Kazrack replied, shaking his head. “Just remember that the last time you went off on your own, I had to take you out of captivity.” (1)

“Oh, I would have gotten out of there eventually anyway,” Roland laughed and then covering his mouth coughed and continued. “Not that I did not appreciate your timely aid. It is just that even though that plan did not work out as I initially intended, my short stay with those dwarves taught be something about the political situation regarding Gothanius regardless of not having arrived ahead of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about anymore,” Kazrack said, still shaking his head.

“I love it when you play dumb to get me to shut up,” Roland laughed again. “You’re cute in a dwarfly sort of way.”

“Okay, then go…” Kazrack grunted, obviously uncomfortable. He waved his hand towards the statue of Bast in a dismissive gesture.

Martin cast mage armor and greater invisibility on the Bastite to protect him on his way, and in hopes that invisibly he could slip past the tentacled monster that came through the wall by the portal to the Beastlands.

Roland of Bast pawed silently and invisibly around the screen behind the statue of Bast, taking a moment to look up cautiously to where the wall still occasionally shimmered back and forth. Behind the screen was a wooden frame of excellent craftsmanship nearly six feet across and over nine feet high. It was artfully carved to look like two trees bound together by vines and flowers, and the bottom portion was decorated with wooden reliefs of a rat, a weasel, a jackal, a wolf and a mountain lion, all looking up with open mouths. Within the frame itself was the shimmering and glimmering image of verdant hill upon which was a tree so great that the top of it was not visible in the screen. There was a clump of brush in the foreground, and the slightest winding hint of a river on the right.

With a quick prayer to Bast, Roland leapt into the image expecting to sail through, but instead he slammed against the frame, bouncing back and crumpling. He looked back to see the frame still rocking back and forth a bit.

“I can’t get through it!” Roland whined to others. “Passage seems barred.”

“Some portals require a price or offering, or some other requisite exists in regards to who or what it might allow through,” Martin called back. “Describe it to me in detail.”

Roland did so.

“It must be the mouths,” Martin the Green speculated. “The Beastlands are the land of life and of the hunt. It seems to me that blood would likely do the trick.”

“Blood? How much do you think?” Roland asked.

“As much as would be a sacrifice, or at least I would guess…”

Roland shrugged in his lithe feline body and bit down hard on one of his paws. He held the paw over the open mouth of the wooden mountain lion, letting most of the blood drip in there, but putting a few drops in the other mouths just in case. (2)

Another quick prayer and he leapt through the shimmering image and a moment later he was gasping as he surfaced in small murky pond in a copse of trees. Roland paddled over to the edge of the pond and dragged himself out of the water, shaking his body to send water and fur in all directions.

The day was growing long here in the Beastlands. Roland crawled out of the brush to see the great grassy hill upon which was rooted Chochokpi. The tree was many times larger than the talking tree the Keepers of the Gate had met in Topaline (3), but there was no doubt that this was the same. The area beneath the tree was already nearly as dark as night.

The air was clean here, tasting better than fresh water, and the sun, though a distant yellow ghost on the horizon, was warm. Roland felt invigorated and overcome with the pleasure of being. He rolled and lolled in the grass, occasionally giving off happy growls and yelps that he could not help. Suddenly, a breeze brought a scent to his feline nostrils. Prey.

Roland leapt to his four feet and took off towards the river. When he reached a patch of woods along the shore, he crept in the shadow of the edge of it and moved downwind of the group of antelope he had caught scent of. He peeked his head above the brush as he came around and saw a small herd of less than a score of the noble beasts, their antlers tall tight whorls that were nothing like the mountain goats and rams Roland was used to back in Aquerra. (4) They had muscular humps over their front shoulders from which their brown and white heads emerged, and they were nearly seven feet at shoulder. The antelope were gathering on the far side of the river and would likely get away before Roland could reach them, except for three loitering on the closer shore, seemingly oblivious to the safety of being with the herd and its males.

The black panther Bastite shot out from under the brush and made right for the smallest of the three. It was young fawn, but it was still the size of a decent buck back in Aquerra. It turned awkwardly when it finally sensed the predator’s approach. It had barely splashed a few feet into the river when Roland pounced upon it, snapping his jaws about its neck and whipping violently. Two or three kicks and the antelope drooped lifelessly in the Bastite’s mouth. The rest of the herd withdrew, the last stragglers still hurrying to catch up to them.

Roland dropped the prey momentarily and roared triumphantly. Taking it back up again, he hurried back into woods and leapt into a tree and began to devour it. He stopped only when he smelled what were undoubtedly wolves coming from the north. Taking the time to finish his kill, Roland leapt back down and crept to the edge of the wood, seeing a group of nearly twenty great gray wolves crossing the river as well. The Bastite decided it was time to go see Chochokpi.

The Bastite crept towards the tree slowly, noting how in some places the great tree’s branches touched the ground hundreds of yards from the trunk. As he came under the cover of the tree he could smell many animals living among the branches above. It was dark under there, but bits of sunlight dappled the many roots, leaves and vines on the uneven ground.

Suddenly, a branch swung down and sideswiped the panther, knocking him off his feet to skid painfully on his side a few feet.

“Hrum Hroom! Outsider! Speak up now and be hasty about it, or be smashed!” came Chochokpi’s voice. It was like a great wave rushing through a great hollow log, and being drawn back into the sea, rivulets of echo, like birdsong, twitted here and there in it as well, but that made it no less filled with menace.

“I am Roland of Bast,” Roland said, and he felt a momentary queasiness, that passed so quickly he had forgotten about it before he continued.

“Hrrm… Well, hrm… Yes, well… that certainly is a hasty answer,” the tree replied. Roland was still to far away to see the speaking tree’s knotted face.

“Oh great, Chochokpi!” Roland bowed his head and covered his snout with his forepaw for a moment, and then sat up again. “As I said, I am Roland of Bast, member of the Keepers of the Gate, and I travel here from the mortal realms on a mission of great importance, and I am sure one of your great wisdom and knowledge can aid me in taking the correct course to get the aid I seek.”

“Hmmmmm… You seek aid to get aid? All this frontways thinking never makes any… hrm… Yes, sense to me…” The tree said. “It has been a long time since I have seen a human here, a long frontways time, at least… And yes, I know you are human… Yes… Hrm… You can’t fool a tree…You said my name, so you must know I am the Tree That Grows Backwards… So everything new to you is old to me… But still, it has been a long frontways time since an outsider has come to speak to me.”

“I am not an outsider,” Roland protested. “This is the realm that resonates in my soul. This is where I will come when I die.…”

“If you deserve it,” the Tree retorted.

“I already do,” Roland replied, with cheek.

“That is for Osiris to decide, not you,” Chochokpi’s voice grew deep and menacing once again. A crow cawed among his branches. “You are arrogant, but such is the way of mammals.”

“And cats always know the truth, but as much as I would like to sit here and banter with a great and imminent tree such as yourself, I fear I must be hasty and explain to you of my mission,” Roland said. “You do know of Hurgun of the Stone?”

“Hrrm… Yes, that human is known to me,” Chochokpi replied. “Learned he is, for a human…”

“And if you know of his Maze, then you know of its great power, but right now it seems that it is unattended and its power is seeping between the planes and disrupting things I think it has to do with a time elemental he tried to bind, but it bound him instead,” Roland tried to explain. “There are servants of Ptah, my companion Martin the Green calls them ‘modrons’… They seem to be malfunctioning someway and I think they are part of what is making the Maze not behave properly… But I am not sure… We also think that the flow of time itself might be being disrupted. The fact that this is the second time I am meeting you, but the first time you are meeting me, might have something to do with that as well… It is all very complex and confusing…” Roland panted.

“Hrrm, Hrrm, Really? Hrrm, well…”

“Have you felt any disruptions here?” Roland asked.

There was a long moment, and a breeze shook Chochokpi’s branches. Somewhere frogs began to croak, and the sun had completely set. Darkness swept across the Beastlands like a blue-black shroud that rippled in the wind. Some time passed… Roland tried addressing Chochokpi again, but there was no response. After an hour, he heard the howls of wolves on the air, and the Bastite risked creeping closer to Chochokpi’s trunk, in hope it might provide him with some safety.

Roland guessed it was over three hours before he heard Chochokpi’s voice again.

“Hrm… Hroom?”

“Chochokpi? You were silent for a long time. I was worried,” Roland said.

“I had to feel across the planes to where all my roots do lie and seek out the truth of your frontways words,” Chochokpi replied. “And you are correct… Hrm… Something is wrong…”

“Yes, something is very wrong,” Roland’s voice took on a tone somewhere between annoyance and pleading. “And I didn’t get to finish telling you what else is wrong before you… uh, felt your roots or whatever it is you did… There is a fiend, a greater succubus named Ora Amira El loose in the Maze and seeking to use its power for her own evil ends. My companions and I, the Keepers of the Gate, tried to stop her, but were forced to flee her might. She killed one of our number, as well.”

“Hrrm, well… yes,… I mean, no, no… That won’t do, not at all,” Chochokpi said. “Hurgun would not like that… No… Control of the Maze must be gained before it breaks apart and permanently damages the veils between the planes.”

“Yes, but we don’t know how to do that,” Roland replied.

“Not so hasty!” Chochokpi shook all his limbs and small animals and insects all scampered among the limbs with fright. Roland took a step back and bowed his head again.

“Hrmmmmmm… Yes… yes… I know what must be done,” Chochokpi murmured. “Yes,… in order to gain control you need to repair the malfunctioning modrons… Yes, that is it… Yes, that is what happens… What could happen frontways, I mean… At least I think so… Maybe not, however… Hrmmm… It is what should be done… Yes… You need to repair the means by which they are repaired and given their basic… uh, orders… Yes, the station…”

“The Modron Station? Yes, we heard of it and it has been damaged, but how do we repair it, and what do we do once we have?” Roland asked.

“Hrrm, still hasty… But the means of repairing it are a dubious means… Necromantic means that one such as yourself might not have access to…”

“The Book of Black Circles…” Roland murmured.

“Hmmmm?”

“I think one of my companions has the means, though the cost will be dear,” Roland replied.

“Once the modrons are repaired and control is re-established, the Maze must be plunged deep into the Plane of Time,” Chochokpi said. “Yes, this is what it would… does…will… it would be like that to your frontwards minds… the Plane of Time…”

“And what then?”

“Hope the Time Elemental will be drawn off and return to wherever, whenever, whatever… it came from,” Chochokpi said. “Or find a way to defeat it… But one cannot defeat time, not even Chochokpi can do that, and I am the Tree That Grows Backwards… Hmmm, hroom! Yes, I am…”

Roland was quiet for a long time contemplating what he had learned.

“The wolves are coming,” Chochokpi said.

“Yes, I smelled them before,” Roland replied. He cocked his head and asked, “Tell me, do you know where I might find the servants of my mistress, Bast? I need to ask their aid in this matter.”

“Hrmmm, Hroom… Servants, hmmmm…?” the Tree gurgled, and then was silent for a time before replying. “This is not a good part of the Beastlands for those who serve your mistress. To see her servants you must travel to the distant realm of the Tiger-Prince, past the Realm of the Charging Beasts and through the Valley of the Suffering Hunters… And hrmmm, yes… there are also the Wolves of Law…”

“How long would such a journey take?” Roland asked.

Again, there was a long silence punctuated by gurgles and murmurs and the hoot of an owl up in the great tree’s branches. “Three days as you would count them…”

“Three days here, or three day in Aquerra?”

“There is… Hrm, Yes… Hroom.… There is no difference… At least I do not think so… So, yes… Difficult to count frontward ways sometimes… Yes… Short bursts! So hasty… I do not like it…”

“And what of these wolves?” Roland asked. “I am not at my full strength… Should I fear if I were to meet a pack of them?”

“Hrmmmmm… Yes… the Wolves of Law… They prowl and patrol and enforce the will of their alpha… Yes…That is what they do… Drink of the pools of water amidst my roots… Be refreshed and restored… You may rest here and recoup your strength before you continue your journey… Yes, that you must… Yes… Hrm….”

Roland hurried over to the pools and felt his wounds close as he drink deeply of them. He found a warm spot up among the branches to loll lazily until he was relaxed enough to nod off.

------------------------------------------------
Notes
(1) See Session #75

(2) DM’s Note: Those would pass through the gate to the Beastlands had to feed the open mouths an amount of blood equal to 10% of their maximum hit points.

(3) See Session #84

(4) These antelope were a form of Giant Eland known to the islands in the far south of Aquerra.
 

I decided to break up Session #94 into three parts as not make you all suffer too long without an update. ;)
 
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