Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions (final update posted 02.14.10)

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #504] No Way Out

Morier sagged in the spell's grip, the hopeless weight of despair finding a home on his heart.

"But who to sample first, eh Morier?" the goddess asked, eying Ledare and Maleko as if they were entrees on a buffet. "The elf intrigues me; as I said he's a bit of an unknown in all this. But I think it'll have to be Ledare. Sweet, sweet Ledare. So like the one that my Death Knight killed." She sighed and then turned back to Morier, a smile on her lips. "He almost killed you too, you know. If Karak had healed her instead of you... Well let's just say that things would have turned out differently."



Maleko and Ledare watched the silent exchange without understanding. Ledare struggled impotently against the force that held her pinned, but her sword seemed useless. If she'd had Ravager, she mused, then maybe she could accomplish something. But she didn't have Ravager and even if she did there was no guarantee that she'd be able to do anything differently. But she couldn't give up. She'd never quite forgiven herself for giving up on getting the Keys, and she wasn't about to surrender again while there was fight left in her.

Maleko glanced down at his hand where the Elcadian silver crown winked, the anchor for his Silence spell. Then he looked up at the woman's back, noticing for the first time that what he had taken for a leather cloak draped over her shoulders was actually a pair of neatly-folded, bat-like wings. Judging the distance as well as he could, he tossed the coin, hoping that it would land near her feet. His aim was extremely poor, however and the coin fell mid-way between them and to her right. It landed on its edge, bounced once and then spiraled to a stop, still close enough that both he and Ledare were still Silenced.

The goddess turned, her unearthly visage twisting with indescribable rage and they saw her as Morier had briefly glimpsed her earlier. Her face hung with the mold-blackened flesh of a corpse, fresh from a wet grave. Squirming maggots spilled from her gaping mouth in a hideous shower as she bellowed silently at them. And her eyes... her eyes were gone, replaced by two dark sockets within which worms writhed. Insects fat and dark and disgusting crawled across her flesh and swarmed about her in a cloud. The smell was most unpleasant.

Both Ledare and Maleko screamed like children though no one could hear them. But their mind-blasting terror was so complete that even if someone had been able, neither would have cared. They felt a wash of disorienting madness come upon them as their spiritually-limited mortal minds tried unsuccessfully to encompass the manifold emanations given off by the angry goddess. Their souls shrank away from the assault, seeking an escape that their bodies were denied by the spell that held them. [1]



Morier took the opportunity, while Aphyx was distracted, to make one last attempt at breaking free. He strained against her magical might, but it was impossible; her spell's grip was just too strong.

And then she turned, her eyes searching the ground for the coin. Finding it, she used her power to hurl it away. Sound returned and with it came the goddess' composure. She sighed, her face once more beautiful as she regarded the eldritch warrior.

"I think I've changed my mind," she said. "I'm going to drink the elf first. It'll be more fun to watch both you and Ledare lose another friend to this foolish crusade of yours. Unless, of course, you want to end it all right now and give me the Heart."


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[1] That's Energy Drain to you and me. Five levels of Energy Drain actually.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #505] The One Where Everybody dies

At Aphyx's words, a look of panic crossed Maleko's face. "No!" he pleaded. "Don't drink my blood!" Aphyx chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at the mage-priest in a coquettish manner.

"Your blood?" she smirked. "I'm going to drink your soul, little elf, not your blood. There'll be no afterlife for you, I'm afraid. No touching reunion with your god. Nethlar, isn't it? Just like Ledare, here, will never receive Flor's waiting embrace." Ledare shook with impotent fury, unable to break Aphyx's magical grip, but unwilling to stop trying.

"Don't give it to her, Morier," the half-elf commanded earning a reproachful look from the goddess.

"You mortals and your pathetic hope," she mused cruelly. "Morier WILL give me the Heart. That's a fact. The only question is whether he'll give it to me before or after I drain you two dry."

"No!" Maleko pleaded. "If you need me to kill Morier for you and give you the Heart, I'll do it." Ledare turned and gaped at Maleko.

"What?!" she demanded, writhing against the magical hold with renewed vigor. It was no use, of course; the goddess' might was unbeatable. Aphyx smiled.

"Of course," she chuckled again, a sadistic mirth twinkling in her dark eyes. "Why, you are unpredictable, aren't you? You were too scared to act inside the Gate of Duality. You are the weak link that I need to break."

"No! Stay strong, Maleko!" Ledare pleaded and Maleko hung his head.

"I am sorry," he said with shame. Morier stared in disbelief. He had thought more of the elf and a small, involuntary groan of defeat escape his lips. Aphyx's smile broadened unnaturally, full of teeth and eager, it seemed, to feed.

With a casual gesture the goddess released Maleko as Ledare struggled uselessly. There had to be a way to break free, the one-time Janissary thought. Aphyx couldn't be all-powerful, could she? If she were then why bother talking with them at all? Why not just TAKE the Heart? Why not...? Why... Not...?

Ledare's mouth dropped open as she realized what Maleko had already sussed out a few moments prior. There could be only one reason why Aphyx would parlay for the Heart rather than simply taking it from them: because she couldn't. Somehow the Heart contained power that kept Aphyx from just attacking Morier and ripping it out of him as she'd done with Dridana eons before. And that meant that they had an advantage, slim though it was.

While Ledare pieced this together in her mind, Maleko hesitantly approached Morier and drew his wand. He raised it slowly, deliberately, and pointed it toward the drow. His features set with grim resolve, the elf stared at the helpless Morier and spoke the command words, quickly turning at the last moment to fire the missiles instead at Aphyx!

The Magic Missiles dissipated harmlessly against Aphyx's titanic Spell Resistance and she laughed.

"Well that was embarrassing," she mocked and reached out a finger. Before Maleko could do anything to avoid it, she had brushed it lightly across his chest. He felt a coldness move through him as the goddess' finger came away trailing a wisp of ectoplasmic soul-stuff. She brought it toward her mouth and a nightmarish tongue, well over a foot long and covered with festering boils lapped up the tiny bit of Maleko. The elf staggered, barely alive and tried feebly to raise the wand.

"Use the Heart!" Ledare screamed at Morier.

"Head for the hole," Maleko squeaked as if finishing Ledare's sentence.

Morier did as he was bade, drawing on the power of the Heart. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble as he did so, as if the use of the Heart were awakening Dridana from her death-like slumber. Aphyx looked at him and her face twisted with emotion - rage or fear, Morier couldn't tell which. Then her concentration faltered and he felt the grip on him slacken.

Ledare felt it too and she squirmed free, falling unexpectedly to the stone. She tried to land on her feet, but the shaking ground sent her sprawling. Maleko, who was already standing managed to maintain his balance, though beside him Morier fell awkwardly to the ground. It didn't matter though, as next moment his Meld With Stone spell took effect and he vanished completely into the body of the God Isle.

"Noooo!!!" Aphyx screamed and as she did so, her body seemed to dissolve like a rotting husk. Her human features fell away, shredded by the writhing mass of jellied tentacles that thrashed within. Both Ledare and Maleko looked at the thing that was Aphyx and felt their minds pushed to the very brink of sanity and then thrust violently beyond into the twisting darkness where madness dwells. Before darkness swallowed all sensation and all thought they both heard a woman's voice speaking sweetly to them.

"I am with you," she said and then they heard no more.

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Almost no one realized what the heroes had done. There were no memorials erected to honor their sacrifice and their names did not at once become legend. Because they had fought for so long in the shadow of a spreading plague with the specter of complete societal collapse looming large over the land, their names went unremembered by most. Their actions, however, were felt across the Prime... or at least the tiny sliver of the Prime Material Plane that was home to the Realms.

In that place, their victory over Aphyx on the Astral Plane was felt far and wide by virtually every living thing on Orune. Even if they did not know to thank the companions, thousands owed their lives to those unremembered few.



In the town of Frothingham in Pellham a man of singular beauty looked out his window at a cloudless blue sky and dreamed of flying. He wondered briefly if the gods might have more in store for him than the life of a bureaucrat and an unexplainable pang of regret touched his heart. Then his wife called him from the kitchen and he quickly forgot the fleeting emotion as he scooped his children into his arms and headed in for breakfast.



Further north and to the east, a group of adventurers milled around the morning campfire. Krint, the dwarf, busied himself with the last scraps of food and the dregs of Padgett's coffee while Antinua prepared her day's spells from a green-bound tome. Nearby, Shamalin intently watched Amaury spar with Deas. She admired the graceful way in which the former darted lithely around his more heavily-armored opponent and the Mercybringer did not bother hiding her smile as she did so.



More northerly still, in the warren of Battle City's back-alleys Janissary Draelond shoved two manacled separatists out through the doorway of their safe house into the waiting arms of his fellow Janissaries. Thanks to a well-executed undercover sting the safe house hadn't turned out to be all that safe for these disloyal enemies of the crown. The rebels were former members of the King's Legion though, and they hadn't been easy to capture. It had taken a rare combination of guile and muscle to earn their trust and break the group's back from within. Omar Lagasse smiled as his large protégé lifted both men up by their collars and tossed them into the back of the prisoner transport.



Far to the east, in forbidden Hule three wizards stood in the incense-choked air in the uppermost chamber of the Tower of Heavens. It had cost the elder pair a princely sum to gain audience with the blind prophet and as mages they each risked their very lives by coming to the land of Cretia the All-Seeing. But with three words from his ancient lips the Chosen of Othmus made it all seem worthwhile.

"Morier has succeeded," the prophet rasped at which point Angwyn ap-Llewellyn clapped his thin hands and let out a whoop of excitement. He turned to the second man and grinned.

"I knew it had to be him!" the white-bearded wizard beamed, his blue eyes twinkling like sapphires in the dim-lit chamber. Garan-Zak nodded back at the man, patting him affectionately on the shoulder.

"Yes, Angwyn, you're very clever. And well too that you kept the Timeheart Medallion all these years or you might never have realized that the time stream had been altered," the swarthy wizard said. He turned to the third and scowled. "And there goes your chance to aid him in his quest, as well. I told you to go with him back in Reaping when you had the chance, but you had to go visit the Pleasure Prison of the B'thuvian Demon Whore for a full year!" Huzair grinned and leaned forward to light a cigar from one of the many candles ensconced around the room.

"Look, the stuff I learned there Morier can't teach me," he mused and exhaled a column of smoke. Garan-Zak shook his head disapprovingly.

"You had the chance to save the world!" the elder mage scoffed. "And instead you fritter your life away."

"My brother always used to say that time was of the essence," the blind prophet croaked. "But that was a long, long time ago." Huzair gave the withered old man a look that seemed capable of setting him ablaze and then he snarled.

"Thanks for the words of wisdom, old man," he said, pointing his cigar at the Chosen of Othmus. "I expect this kind of crap from Garan-Zak; he always did think that ap-Llewellyn got the better apprentice, But I don't have to stand here and take it from some dusty old relic hiding on the ass-end of nowhere."

Then he turned and hurried from the chamber. Once he was down at the base of the tower, far from Garan-Zak and Angwyn ap-Llewellyn he clutched the balustrade in anger and fumed silently for a time. When he had his anger under control he reached into his Valiant Vessel bag and pulled out a copy of 'Chronomancy and the Fixed Prime Fallacy'.

"I just fritter my life away, huh?" he snorted smoke. "Well, we'll just see about that, old man. We'll just see about that."

The End

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OOC- And that's it. At last we close the book on The Realms of Enlightenment. At least for the time being. Thanks to everyone who followed along all these years. It's been fun for me and I hope for you as well.

 

[darkhall-nestor]

what do you get for resurrecting a god?

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

"Yes, Angwyn, you're very clever. And well too that you kept the Timeheart Medallion all these years or you might never have realized that the time stream had been altered," the swarthy wizard said. He turned to the third and scowled. "And there goes your chance to aid him in his quest, as well. I told you to go with him back in Reaping when you had the chance, but you had to go visit the Pleasure Prison of the B'thuvian Demon Whore for a full year!" Huzair grinned and leaned forward to light a cigar from one of the many candles ensconced around the room.

"Look, the stuff I learned there Morier can't teach me," he mused and exhaled a column of smoke. Garan-Zak shook his head disapprovingly.

"You had the chance to save the world!" the elder mage scoffed. "And instead you fritter your life away."

"My brother always used to say that time was of the essence," the blind prophet croaked. "But that was a long, long time ago." Huzair gave the withered old man a look that seemed capable of setting him ablaze and then he snarled.

"Thanks for the words of wisdom, old man," he said, pointing his cigar at the Chosen of Othmus. "I expect this kind of crap from Garan-Zak; he always did think that ap-Llewellyn got the better apprentice, But I don't have to stand here and take it from some dusty old relic hiding on the ass-end of nowhere."

Then he turned and hurried from the chamber. Once he was down at the base of the tower, far from Garan-Zak and Angwyn ap-Llewellyn he clutched the balustrade in anger and fumed silently for a time. When he had his anger under control he reached into his Valiant Vessel bag and pulled out a copy of 'Chronomancy and the Fixed Prime Fallacy'.

"I just fritter my life away, huh?" he snorted smoke. "Well, we'll just see about that, old man. We'll just see about that."

Look, if no one was keeping the B'thuvian Demon Whore busy for a full year then imagine the horror she would have wrought in her breeding attempts! Any self-serving lady's man would've done the same thing. You should be so lucky to know someone who is versed AND practiced in the sexual arts of the Neo-Otyugh.

 

[Jon Potter]

what do you get for resurrecting a god?

A warm feeling? A pat on the back? A lollipop?

I didn't really have to decide that since we ended the campaign in order to try something else. Although I was thinking along the line of a free template, a level-up, or something on that level, pretty much anything they cared to ask for would have been entertained.

Ledare could have gotten Del back, for example. Or at least a version of Del.

 

[Jon Potter]

Any self-serving lady's man would've done the same thing. You should be so lucky to know someone who is versed AND practiced in the sexual arts of the Neo-Otyugh.

Huzair's very... open-minded.

 

[Neurotic]

Becoming Chosen One or demigod in the service?

Excellent story, it's unfortunate you had to close it up.

Congratulations!

 

[Jon Potter]

Becoming Chosen One or demigod in the service?

That would definitely have been fitting, particularly for Morier. But the problem with that is that I wouldn't want to force that kind of tie on a character.

Excellent story, it's unfortunate you had to close it up.

Congratulations!

I'm glad that you've enjoyed it. It's definitely been fun to write and post.

 

[Kristeneve]

Ledare could have gotten Del back, for example. Or at least a version of Del.[/quote]


Hmmmmm....somehow I think I knew this. It is fitting. Duly noted and filed away for future use.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

So Jon, what did you do with all that "free" time on Sunday since you didn't post? Does it feel odd yet?

Actually a more fitting ending would have seen the goddess volunteering the party to be her champions and having them fan out to re-establish her faith and clear the way for her to reclaim her place on the prime. Gods have a funny way of taking a prize and turning it into work.