Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Rule of Darkness -Book II Chapter 3 Last Update 19 June 2008- Book I Completed
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Ghostknight" data-source="post: 3460701" data-attributes="member: 15338"><p><strong>Chapter 24</strong></p><p></p><p>Prince D'Fir looked out over the battlements. Inside the walls of the Fort of Peaks, his forces lay ready, awake and alert, prepared for the battle that all suspected would come. The sentries were all on high alert, and tensions ran high. Three weeks has passed since the successful attack on the fort. Ever since then, they had awaited the counter-attack, but none had come. Days passed and the skies were changing from the clear blue of the autumn to the slate grey of winter. </p><p> </p><p>"D'Fir, we grow impatient. Perhaps you err in thinking that Jelial values this fortress enough to want to retake it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Comander Hulia, the Gir'Thia have been invaluable in their assistance. I thank you for that, and hope you will continue on here. I am under the understanding, from Secheriab and Eria, that you are under my command until ordered otherwise? Have you received new orders then?"</p><p> </p><p>The emaciated devil glowered down at the dwarf. His dark eyes flashed with the red of burning flames. "My soldiers grow restless General. They are not dwarves, humans or angels that delight in peace and tranquillity. They delight in pain, suffering and the screams of their victims as they carve flesh into the patterns of their will."</p><p> </p><p>The devil leaned over, bringing his face almost into contact with that of D'Fir. The smell of burnt flesh surrounded him, drowning out the more familiar smell of rotten flowers that was his normal odor. He breathed in and out, hot breath washing across D'Fir's face, nostrils flaring slightly as he stared deeply into D'Fir's eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Find something for us to do D'Fir. We grow restless. We are devils, not garrison soldiers; we are the Gir'Thia, known for our love of bloodletting, our love of battle. We sit idle for far too long. I do not know how much longer we can wait patiently. We obey you, for the moment. D'Fir, know this.; I am ordered to observe your commands, but your command irritates, as would the command of any mere mortal!"</p><p> </p><p>D'Fir matched the devil's gaze and watched as he straightened and marched out. His thoughts concentrated on the devil and his words, the threat that came through. <em>I never thought I would pray for the arrival of devils, but now I find myself praying for Jelial to attack, if only to distract the Gir'Thia away from thoughts of taking orders from mortals.</em> </p><p> </p><p>He turned back, heading inside for what he hoped would be the quiet solitude of the room he had taken to be his office. It was not to be; in the corridor outside Sister Egrit stood, waiting for him. Her face was softer than that of the fiend, but he could see that she, too, came with problems.</p><p> </p><p>"D'Fir, we need to talk."</p><p> </p><p>The dwarf sighed. "Come in then, we will talk in private."</p><p> </p><p>The room was large; bookcases were set against the walls at various points. The space between them was covered in leather that had been stuck to the walls with thick, black, iron studs. D'Fir headed to the safety of his desk, putting its large, imposing bulk between Sister Egrit and him. She looked around the room with evident distaste, carefully keeping away from the desk, eyeing the red toned wood with suspicion.</p><p> </p><p>"I have told you what that leather is, D'Fir. Take it down and bury it. The skin of innocents should never be mere decorations!" She paused, her eyes meeting his, "And as for this desk, it should be chopped up and buried. The fiendish commander may have loved the idea of a desk made of wood that was tainted, and worse, grown in the blood of innocents sacrificed and burnt. It is not fitting for you to use it!"</p><p> </p><p>"Sister Egrit, did you come here to complain about my office décor and furniture, or is there something of importance on your mind?" His voice came out harsh, his impatience showing. Perhaps this is what caused her to stop and consider what she said next.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry D'Fir, the tension of waiting is getting to us all. Perhaps Jelial is not interested in taking back this Fortress? Perhaps we can relax and start moving people into here permanently."</p><p> </p><p>"No, I am convinced that the counter-attack will come. It is a matter of whether it will come quickly, or when complacency sets in. Perhaps Jelial waits for our union to break apart. After all, he must be sitting and wondering how long angel and devil can work together without trying to kill each other." As he said the last he leant forward, his eyes locked onto hers. "How long do you think angel and devil can work together?"</p><p> </p><p>Sister Egrit stared at him, her mouth opening before closing sharply. Quickly she stood, and her face turned red as she made for the door. "I had come for the reason you surmise, to complain about out erstwhile allies. I will do better. Let them be petty, let them revel in their hostility and meaningless vengeance. The Celestial Host will show them what it truly means to be allies fighting for a just cause." </p><p> </p><p>D'Fir watched as she quickly left, relaxing into the massive, high backed chair. His thoughts bothered him, the worry about the fragile alliance though the crisis was averted for now. How much longer could he hold the tenuous alliance together between allies that had been aeons long foes?</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Jeria stood and looked back at the hidden cleft in which the gateway to the cities below stood hidden. He looked at his companions, the green-scaled form of Mekior, with the scarred and bent figure of Gyv clinging to his arm. He nodded to them as he headed for the mountainside, to the point of recall. As the other joined him, the thrice intoned name of Secheriab seemed to echo off the mountains around them. For a moment, it seemed to be a clarion call to everything in the vicinity, a trumpet blast announcing their presence. In that moment Jeria wondered if they had been betrayed, if they would be standing there as masses of the enemy arrived and Secheriab abandoned them. </p><p>Then, the darkness of the transition surrounded them, accompanied by bitter cold and the feeling of needles piercing their bodies in a thousand places. It was but a momentary sensation, but one that had them screaming and shivering as they arrived back in front of Secheriab.</p><p> </p><p>It was a new room; large, the temperature comfortable, the walls and floors simple, plastered stone. The room was bare but for some cabinets against the far wall and doors spaced evenly along all the walls.</p><p> </p><p>Secheriab's benign smile seemed calculated to belay any suspicion that the discomfort had been deliberate, but Jeria did not trust the powerful devil. He remembered the simple power of Eria and the painless movement that he could effect.</p><p> </p><p>"Welcome back, my friends. I hope that your trip was a success?" Secheriab eyed the unhidden, unmasked form of Mekior. "I see you have decided to enlighten your friends as to your true form. It is good that you do so, renegade. Perhaps your next step should be to seek out your fellows and encourage them to join the battle."</p><p> </p><p>Mekior eyed him with unconcealed hostility. "You knew, didn't you?"</p><p></p><p>Secheriab laughed, "Of course I did. That simple illusion was not enough to mask my sight. But why are you so hostile towards me? Did I not keep your secret?"</p><p> </p><p>Before the others could stop him, Mekior leapt at the fiendish lord, his clawed hands outstretched, his lips peeled back to reveal the outstretched fangs. As fast as Mekior was, he was no match for the fiendish lord. With casual ease, Secheriab jumped back, his leg kicking out simultaneously, arching his body into an athletic flip as he came down on his feet, looking at Mekior, who had been thrown across the room by the power of the kick.</p><p> </p><p>"You knew. You told them about me. You betrayed us and left me to be tortured to satisfy your sick, sadistic whim of watching me in pain." Mekior came to his feet, wiping away the blood that dripped down his face, from a gash that split his cheek through to his forehead, the result of the claws on Secheriab's feet.</p><p> </p><p>Jeria turned to look at Secheriab, shock on his face. "Is this true? Did you set us up, send us there, knowing that this would be done?"</p><p> </p><p>By his side, Gyv drew her sword, looking up to the ceiling for the fiendish guardians of Secheriab.</p><p> </p><p>"Did I send you there knowing the cities were there? Yes, of course. I told you they were there, that I just did not know exactly where. As to the accusations that I betrayed you, sent Mekior to be tortured; in a way I suppose that could be said to be true."</p><p> </p><p>Gyv's voice was low, her anger evident as she spat out the words, the volume rising as she addressed Secheriab. "You 'suppose' it could be true? What does that mean? Either you betrayed us, or you did not. Which is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Secheriab faced her calmly, keeping an eye on both her and Mekior as he spoke. "The truth? I let people in the area know that a renegade, masquerading as a human, was coming. I did not address anyone in particular; I did not know who would be the right person. The message reached the right ears though, those of Aspith. The rest of my rumour mongering was that those who were coming were seeking an alliance. I knew once the renegade was revealed, the rest of the message would be believed."</p><p> </p><p>Coldly, he turned away, walking towards a cabinet at the back of the room. Suddenly he turned, confronting them. "It worked did it not? You met with Aspith, got his promise of assistance, the support of the cities? Can you not say that a little discomfort is worth the reward you attained in recompense?"</p><p> </p><p>"A little discomfort? They tortured me." Mekior sounded resigned, his voice despairing rather than angry. "I know your kind Secheriab. You are the kind that the renegades flee. One of those that believes all those less powerful than you are mere pawns, not deserving of consideration, their value only in what they can bring you!"</p><p> </p><p>Secheriab laughed, his benign form seeming to glow with the dark power of Hell as he did so. "What in the names of all the Masters of Hell made you think I was any different? I am a fiend, renegade. I do my Master's bidding as best I can, lest I suffer a fate worse than the one you did. This time it served my interests for you to feel a little discomfort for the greater good of achieving our purpose. Is that not the ultimate measure, that the greater good was served?"</p><p> </p><p>He turned to the cabinet, opening it to reveal an array of bottles of crystal goblets.</p><p></p><p>"Come, let us leave this fighting and bickering behind. Let us drink to your success!" </p><p> </p><p>Secheriab watched as they came forward, pouring tall, high glasses of wine for them all. </p><p> </p><p>They drank, and as they watched Secheriab smiled.</p><p> </p><p>"There is another thing to drink to. Your friend, Prince D'Fir, now sits in command of the Fort of Peaks. The first battle has been fought, and won." His eyes brightened as he continued, "Let the war begin! Let the blood of Jelial's fiends run freely, let it provide nourishment for our forces. Let it strengthen out troops and our resolve."</p><p> </p><p>The others found the toast strange, but only Mekior caught the glint in Secheriab's eyes as he spoke. <em>What is he up to? He is not to be trusted and he is working towards his own goal. But is it in favour of this world or Hell? And is it to increase his own power or merely the command of the one he calls Master?</em></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Jelial sat in his private study, attended by Gerion. The room was smaller than many his underlings used, but Jelial seemed comfortable within. The walls were bare, thick stone. Gerion knew that the stone hid thick layers of silversteel and lead; perfect insulation against those that would use magic to try and spy within.</p><p> </p><p>"Have you seen Priet recently, Gerion? He seems to have gone missing." Jelial spoke casually, all the while leaning back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>"Me, seen Priet? Thankfully not. You know I despise that little rat, Jelial. He is a worm; powerless and a complete annoyance. I have never trusted him, and suggest you do likewise. Even better, I suggest you destroy the little worm, drink his essence for the minute bit of nourishment it may provide." </p><p> </p><p><em>Bah the little worm is gone. I made him powerful and yet he never returned from facing Redili. Just what did happen there? </em> Gerion's smile did not reflect his thoughts, but he wondered what had happened in the confrontation between Priet and Redili.</p><p> </p><p>Jelial's expression did not change, but his voice was musing. "Perhaps you are right. He was a rather pathetic creature. You know, Redili tells me of an interesting encounter he had recently." As he spoke a section of the wall dissolved, revealed as an illusion, behind which stood Redili. He was in full combat gear, his swords drawn and held casually at his sides.</p><p> </p><p>"Go ahead and tell him of your visitor, Redili. I am sure that Gerion would delight in your tale."</p><p> </p><p>Redili spoke, his voice beautiful, carrying the lilt of the trained bard and storyteller.</p><p></p><p>"I tell a story of deception, of hate. Of a servant for a Master turned servant to another." He paused, before continuing.</p><p> </p><p>"Once there was a powerless servant who got ideas above his station. He had a good life and a Master that looked after him, fed him, protected him. But the servant was full of jealousy, he desired more than he deserved. So he went to another, pledged his allegiance in return for the power he craved. " </p><p> </p><p>"With the power came changes; he was no longer himself, but he was satisfied. At last he had what he wanted and he went forth, eager to do his new Master’s bidding." Redili stopped speaking and pulled a string that hung down by his head. From a net held above, the body of Ger'liek tumbled to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>"This one claims to have been Priet. This one claims to be your servant."</p><p> </p><p>Gerion laughed. His voice boomed out, filling the room with its harshness. "Me, turn Priet into something more powerful? I hated him. It was no secret and probably known to all within the Nine Hells. If he had come to me, he would have died before he opened his mouth. Look elsewhere Redili, perhaps the renegades made him an offer; perhaps one of the city lords has a secret font."</p><p> </p><p>He turned to Jelial. "You think I am disloyal? What would you do if I were, send Redili after me? Do you believe he would have a chance to defeat me?" He fell silent and turned to Redili. "I see you are prepared for battle, I have no intention of crossing swords with you!" As he finished speaking, he twisted his body, both hands rising in front of his face as words of power were spoken.</p><p> </p><p>Redili tried to move, to charge into the massive devil with both swords, cut him into pieces. For all his speed, he could not defeat the magic that engulfed him as he moved. The black tendrils grasped him and held his feet fast to the floor, his hands likewise grasped, and pulled backwards. The strength of the tendrils was enough to bow his body and bring more to wrap him up, to hold him helpless on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>"So, Jelial. What is the order, does he live or die?" Gerion's voice was casual, his look at Jelial unreadable.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, let him up Gerion. He is useful and his loss not one I want to countenance at this point in time."</p><p> </p><p>"So be it, my Lord. I am ever you humble servant." If his voice was mocking, Jelial ignored the tone. The tentacles disappeared from around Redili, who lay there, his body heaving and wracked with pain. The tentacles had left strips of acid burnt flesh wherever they had touched; acid strong enough to eat through the armour Redili had worn.</p><p> </p><p>"Gerion, go and plan the recapture of the Fort of Peaks. Give them some time to stew, to wonder. As ever, you have my full support."</p><p> </p><p>Gerion bowed to Jelial as he left, his steps confident, but his back never turned to the fiendish ruler and his injured assassin.</p><p> </p><p>As Gerion left, Jelial knelt down by the side of Redili. "I was foolish to think to pit you against him. He toyed with you to make a point to me. Do not approach him, not even if you think you can strike first. Gerion is far more dangerous than he appears; he is as fast, if not faster, than you with his blades. We will find a way to get rid of him safely."</p><p> </p><p>Jelial stood, opening a cabinet hidden by the illusion of the plain walls. He took the shimmering green potion and poured it down Redili's throat. The potion worked, its healing energies removing the evidence of the burns, but as it worked, Redili writhed, the agony multiplied as the fiendish potion did its work in its twisted way, using the power of the pain to effect the healing.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Ghostknight, post: 3460701, member: 15338"] [b]Chapter 24[/b] Prince D'Fir looked out over the battlements. Inside the walls of the Fort of Peaks, his forces lay ready, awake and alert, prepared for the battle that all suspected would come. The sentries were all on high alert, and tensions ran high. Three weeks has passed since the successful attack on the fort. Ever since then, they had awaited the counter-attack, but none had come. Days passed and the skies were changing from the clear blue of the autumn to the slate grey of winter. "D'Fir, we grow impatient. Perhaps you err in thinking that Jelial values this fortress enough to want to retake it?" "Comander Hulia, the Gir'Thia have been invaluable in their assistance. I thank you for that, and hope you will continue on here. I am under the understanding, from Secheriab and Eria, that you are under my command until ordered otherwise? Have you received new orders then?" The emaciated devil glowered down at the dwarf. His dark eyes flashed with the red of burning flames. "My soldiers grow restless General. They are not dwarves, humans or angels that delight in peace and tranquillity. They delight in pain, suffering and the screams of their victims as they carve flesh into the patterns of their will." The devil leaned over, bringing his face almost into contact with that of D'Fir. The smell of burnt flesh surrounded him, drowning out the more familiar smell of rotten flowers that was his normal odor. He breathed in and out, hot breath washing across D'Fir's face, nostrils flaring slightly as he stared deeply into D'Fir's eyes. "Find something for us to do D'Fir. We grow restless. We are devils, not garrison soldiers; we are the Gir'Thia, known for our love of bloodletting, our love of battle. We sit idle for far too long. I do not know how much longer we can wait patiently. We obey you, for the moment. D'Fir, know this.; I am ordered to observe your commands, but your command irritates, as would the command of any mere mortal!" D'Fir matched the devil's gaze and watched as he straightened and marched out. His thoughts concentrated on the devil and his words, the threat that came through. [I]I never thought I would pray for the arrival of devils, but now I find myself praying for Jelial to attack, if only to distract the Gir'Thia away from thoughts of taking orders from mortals.[/I] He turned back, heading inside for what he hoped would be the quiet solitude of the room he had taken to be his office. It was not to be; in the corridor outside Sister Egrit stood, waiting for him. Her face was softer than that of the fiend, but he could see that she, too, came with problems. "D'Fir, we need to talk." The dwarf sighed. "Come in then, we will talk in private." The room was large; bookcases were set against the walls at various points. The space between them was covered in leather that had been stuck to the walls with thick, black, iron studs. D'Fir headed to the safety of his desk, putting its large, imposing bulk between Sister Egrit and him. She looked around the room with evident distaste, carefully keeping away from the desk, eyeing the red toned wood with suspicion. "I have told you what that leather is, D'Fir. Take it down and bury it. The skin of innocents should never be mere decorations!" She paused, her eyes meeting his, "And as for this desk, it should be chopped up and buried. The fiendish commander may have loved the idea of a desk made of wood that was tainted, and worse, grown in the blood of innocents sacrificed and burnt. It is not fitting for you to use it!" "Sister Egrit, did you come here to complain about my office décor and furniture, or is there something of importance on your mind?" His voice came out harsh, his impatience showing. Perhaps this is what caused her to stop and consider what she said next. "I'm sorry D'Fir, the tension of waiting is getting to us all. Perhaps Jelial is not interested in taking back this Fortress? Perhaps we can relax and start moving people into here permanently." "No, I am convinced that the counter-attack will come. It is a matter of whether it will come quickly, or when complacency sets in. Perhaps Jelial waits for our union to break apart. After all, he must be sitting and wondering how long angel and devil can work together without trying to kill each other." As he said the last he leant forward, his eyes locked onto hers. "How long do you think angel and devil can work together?" Sister Egrit stared at him, her mouth opening before closing sharply. Quickly she stood, and her face turned red as she made for the door. "I had come for the reason you surmise, to complain about out erstwhile allies. I will do better. Let them be petty, let them revel in their hostility and meaningless vengeance. The Celestial Host will show them what it truly means to be allies fighting for a just cause." D'Fir watched as she quickly left, relaxing into the massive, high backed chair. His thoughts bothered him, the worry about the fragile alliance though the crisis was averted for now. How much longer could he hold the tenuous alliance together between allies that had been aeons long foes? *** Jeria stood and looked back at the hidden cleft in which the gateway to the cities below stood hidden. He looked at his companions, the green-scaled form of Mekior, with the scarred and bent figure of Gyv clinging to his arm. He nodded to them as he headed for the mountainside, to the point of recall. As the other joined him, the thrice intoned name of Secheriab seemed to echo off the mountains around them. For a moment, it seemed to be a clarion call to everything in the vicinity, a trumpet blast announcing their presence. In that moment Jeria wondered if they had been betrayed, if they would be standing there as masses of the enemy arrived and Secheriab abandoned them. Then, the darkness of the transition surrounded them, accompanied by bitter cold and the feeling of needles piercing their bodies in a thousand places. It was but a momentary sensation, but one that had them screaming and shivering as they arrived back in front of Secheriab. It was a new room; large, the temperature comfortable, the walls and floors simple, plastered stone. The room was bare but for some cabinets against the far wall and doors spaced evenly along all the walls. Secheriab's benign smile seemed calculated to belay any suspicion that the discomfort had been deliberate, but Jeria did not trust the powerful devil. He remembered the simple power of Eria and the painless movement that he could effect. "Welcome back, my friends. I hope that your trip was a success?" Secheriab eyed the unhidden, unmasked form of Mekior. "I see you have decided to enlighten your friends as to your true form. It is good that you do so, renegade. Perhaps your next step should be to seek out your fellows and encourage them to join the battle." Mekior eyed him with unconcealed hostility. "You knew, didn't you?" Secheriab laughed, "Of course I did. That simple illusion was not enough to mask my sight. But why are you so hostile towards me? Did I not keep your secret?" Before the others could stop him, Mekior leapt at the fiendish lord, his clawed hands outstretched, his lips peeled back to reveal the outstretched fangs. As fast as Mekior was, he was no match for the fiendish lord. With casual ease, Secheriab jumped back, his leg kicking out simultaneously, arching his body into an athletic flip as he came down on his feet, looking at Mekior, who had been thrown across the room by the power of the kick. "You knew. You told them about me. You betrayed us and left me to be tortured to satisfy your sick, sadistic whim of watching me in pain." Mekior came to his feet, wiping away the blood that dripped down his face, from a gash that split his cheek through to his forehead, the result of the claws on Secheriab's feet. Jeria turned to look at Secheriab, shock on his face. "Is this true? Did you set us up, send us there, knowing that this would be done?" By his side, Gyv drew her sword, looking up to the ceiling for the fiendish guardians of Secheriab. "Did I send you there knowing the cities were there? Yes, of course. I told you they were there, that I just did not know exactly where. As to the accusations that I betrayed you, sent Mekior to be tortured; in a way I suppose that could be said to be true." Gyv's voice was low, her anger evident as she spat out the words, the volume rising as she addressed Secheriab. "You 'suppose' it could be true? What does that mean? Either you betrayed us, or you did not. Which is it?" Secheriab faced her calmly, keeping an eye on both her and Mekior as he spoke. "The truth? I let people in the area know that a renegade, masquerading as a human, was coming. I did not address anyone in particular; I did not know who would be the right person. The message reached the right ears though, those of Aspith. The rest of my rumour mongering was that those who were coming were seeking an alliance. I knew once the renegade was revealed, the rest of the message would be believed." Coldly, he turned away, walking towards a cabinet at the back of the room. Suddenly he turned, confronting them. "It worked did it not? You met with Aspith, got his promise of assistance, the support of the cities? Can you not say that a little discomfort is worth the reward you attained in recompense?" "A little discomfort? They tortured me." Mekior sounded resigned, his voice despairing rather than angry. "I know your kind Secheriab. You are the kind that the renegades flee. One of those that believes all those less powerful than you are mere pawns, not deserving of consideration, their value only in what they can bring you!" Secheriab laughed, his benign form seeming to glow with the dark power of Hell as he did so. "What in the names of all the Masters of Hell made you think I was any different? I am a fiend, renegade. I do my Master's bidding as best I can, lest I suffer a fate worse than the one you did. This time it served my interests for you to feel a little discomfort for the greater good of achieving our purpose. Is that not the ultimate measure, that the greater good was served?" He turned to the cabinet, opening it to reveal an array of bottles of crystal goblets. "Come, let us leave this fighting and bickering behind. Let us drink to your success!" Secheriab watched as they came forward, pouring tall, high glasses of wine for them all. They drank, and as they watched Secheriab smiled. "There is another thing to drink to. Your friend, Prince D'Fir, now sits in command of the Fort of Peaks. The first battle has been fought, and won." His eyes brightened as he continued, "Let the war begin! Let the blood of Jelial's fiends run freely, let it provide nourishment for our forces. Let it strengthen out troops and our resolve." The others found the toast strange, but only Mekior caught the glint in Secheriab's eyes as he spoke. [I]What is he up to? He is not to be trusted and he is working towards his own goal. But is it in favour of this world or Hell? And is it to increase his own power or merely the command of the one he calls Master?[/I] *** Jelial sat in his private study, attended by Gerion. The room was smaller than many his underlings used, but Jelial seemed comfortable within. The walls were bare, thick stone. Gerion knew that the stone hid thick layers of silversteel and lead; perfect insulation against those that would use magic to try and spy within. "Have you seen Priet recently, Gerion? He seems to have gone missing." Jelial spoke casually, all the while leaning back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. "Me, seen Priet? Thankfully not. You know I despise that little rat, Jelial. He is a worm; powerless and a complete annoyance. I have never trusted him, and suggest you do likewise. Even better, I suggest you destroy the little worm, drink his essence for the minute bit of nourishment it may provide." [I]Bah the little worm is gone. I made him powerful and yet he never returned from facing Redili. Just what did happen there? [/I] Gerion's smile did not reflect his thoughts, but he wondered what had happened in the confrontation between Priet and Redili. Jelial's expression did not change, but his voice was musing. "Perhaps you are right. He was a rather pathetic creature. You know, Redili tells me of an interesting encounter he had recently." As he spoke a section of the wall dissolved, revealed as an illusion, behind which stood Redili. He was in full combat gear, his swords drawn and held casually at his sides. "Go ahead and tell him of your visitor, Redili. I am sure that Gerion would delight in your tale." Redili spoke, his voice beautiful, carrying the lilt of the trained bard and storyteller. "I tell a story of deception, of hate. Of a servant for a Master turned servant to another." He paused, before continuing. "Once there was a powerless servant who got ideas above his station. He had a good life and a Master that looked after him, fed him, protected him. But the servant was full of jealousy, he desired more than he deserved. So he went to another, pledged his allegiance in return for the power he craved. " "With the power came changes; he was no longer himself, but he was satisfied. At last he had what he wanted and he went forth, eager to do his new Master’s bidding." Redili stopped speaking and pulled a string that hung down by his head. From a net held above, the body of Ger'liek tumbled to the floor. "This one claims to have been Priet. This one claims to be your servant." Gerion laughed. His voice boomed out, filling the room with its harshness. "Me, turn Priet into something more powerful? I hated him. It was no secret and probably known to all within the Nine Hells. If he had come to me, he would have died before he opened his mouth. Look elsewhere Redili, perhaps the renegades made him an offer; perhaps one of the city lords has a secret font." He turned to Jelial. "You think I am disloyal? What would you do if I were, send Redili after me? Do you believe he would have a chance to defeat me?" He fell silent and turned to Redili. "I see you are prepared for battle, I have no intention of crossing swords with you!" As he finished speaking, he twisted his body, both hands rising in front of his face as words of power were spoken. Redili tried to move, to charge into the massive devil with both swords, cut him into pieces. For all his speed, he could not defeat the magic that engulfed him as he moved. The black tendrils grasped him and held his feet fast to the floor, his hands likewise grasped, and pulled backwards. The strength of the tendrils was enough to bow his body and bring more to wrap him up, to hold him helpless on the ground. "So, Jelial. What is the order, does he live or die?" Gerion's voice was casual, his look at Jelial unreadable. "Oh, let him up Gerion. He is useful and his loss not one I want to countenance at this point in time." "So be it, my Lord. I am ever you humble servant." If his voice was mocking, Jelial ignored the tone. The tentacles disappeared from around Redili, who lay there, his body heaving and wracked with pain. The tentacles had left strips of acid burnt flesh wherever they had touched; acid strong enough to eat through the armour Redili had worn. "Gerion, go and plan the recapture of the Fort of Peaks. Give them some time to stew, to wonder. As ever, you have my full support." Gerion bowed to Jelial as he left, his steps confident, but his back never turned to the fiendish ruler and his injured assassin. As Gerion left, Jelial knelt down by the side of Redili. "I was foolish to think to pit you against him. He toyed with you to make a point to me. Do not approach him, not even if you think you can strike first. Gerion is far more dangerous than he appears; he is as fast, if not faster, than you with his blades. We will find a way to get rid of him safely." Jelial stood, opening a cabinet hidden by the illusion of the plain walls. He took the shimmering green potion and poured it down Redili's throat. The potion worked, its healing energies removing the evidence of the burns, but as it worked, Redili writhed, the agony multiplied as the fiendish potion did its work in its twisted way, using the power of the pain to effect the healing. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Rule of Darkness -Book II Chapter 3 Last Update 19 June 2008- Book I Completed
Top