Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Pfft. Not if our dithering has anything to say about it!
Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
It would be wrong for the game to end before the players had accomplished their goals. Aravis's goal is to ascend to his rightful place amongst the gods as the new God of Knowledge.
- Aravis
That sounds like a great deal of story-content we haven't seen yet.
Not really. Mostly Aravis getting delusions of grandeur ever since finding out that he is a god of cats. And since the Charagan pantheon has no God of Knowledge, it seems a logical choice for Aravis.
Aravis
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
And you thought Dranko had an ego problem.
Hello,
I am just delurking to say that I loved Bioshock and like to think the part at the end and prior foreshadowing was similar to what i've read in his and Pkitty's stories over the last decade.
My official claim to fame is that Sagiro emailed me a few times, I think we spoke about Cadbury's chocolate.
I am just delurking to say that I loved Bioshock and like to think the part at the end and prior foreshadowing was similar to what i've read in his and Pkitty's stories over the last decade.
My official claim to fame is that Sagiro emailed me a few times, I think we spoke about Cadbury's chocolate.
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Sandain, what do you think about Cadbury's recent acquisition by Kraft? They'd better not mess with the chocolates coming out of New Zealand!
Anyhoo... here's another update.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 304
Short Circuit
The huge dripping fist swings over Aravis's head, but dissipates into harmless vapors before smashing down. As the wizard breathes a sigh of relief, Flicker receives a sending from Morningstar: I'm out of the Maze. Use your token to summon me to you.
Not lacking an inappropriate flair for the dramatic, Flicker breaks his refuge token while announcing loudly: “I'm a mighty Black Circle sorcerer. Watch as I summon a powerful priestess!”
Morningstar appears... in the middle of the black circle on the floor. Alarmed, she hustles out, and seems none the worse for it, though she glares hard at the oblivious Flicker.
A minute later Ernie appears as well -- not the horrible undead version, but the real original halfling they all know and love. He whips his head around. “Ooooh, let me at 'em! He mazed me, that... that...”
“That was me,” says Aravis. Morningstar smiles as her status of Ernie indicates “fine.”
Ernie turns on Aravis. “You did? What happened?”
Aravis doesn't sugarcoat anything. “You were turned into a horrible undead creature that tried to disintegrate me.”
Ernie opens his mouth but can't think of a good reply.
“You were undead,” says Morningstar, “and these poor mages had to fight without any clerics. Let's go help them, okay?”
* *
Zeg, Master of the Undead, is not actually undead himself. Dranko mutters last rites over his thin, frail body, then sets about divesting him of valuables.
While the clerics heal up their injured comrades, the wizards ID Zeg's magical loot. Unfortunately, most of it is Evil. The items are:
- a Flesh-eater Rod, which is what caused Dranko to rot. (3d6 damage for 1d6+1 rounds on a failed DC 31 Fort save)
- a Robe of the Archmage, of Evil alignment. (They think a wish or miracle could switch it to 'good.')
- a Deadwalker's Ring (Turns a victim temporarily into a spell-stealing undead servant)
- a Headband of Intellect +6
- a Ring of Deflection +5
While helping identify the items, Kibi's attention also returns to the magic diplomacy cloak they found after the previous battle. He considers trying it on – after all, he'd look quite dashing in it – but his suspicious friends talk him out of it.
So now the Company finds itself alone in Nazg Hodeth, while the Necromantic Forge still burns with its eerie green fire on the far side of the huge main chamber. Without protection from evil spells none of them can get close to it, and even looking directly at it causes headaches. But there are several unexplored anterooms to search.
“Maybe there's an instruction book around here somewhere,” says Morningstar.
One of the anterooms contains little besides Zeg's elaborate lizard model, now smashed up a bit.
A second is filled with bugbear bones, mostly piled into barrels but also strewn about haphazardly. A shelf on one wall is full of books and papers, and more parchment is scattered on the dirty stone floor. Many of these papers have carefully-drawn schematics, outlining different sections of the huge bone construct the party just finished fighting.
The third side-room has a dozen barrels filled with organs preserved in a thick clear fluid. There are many long shelves here, but instead of books they hold flasks and jars full of nasty-looking and foul-smelling humors and extractions. One is filled with insect eyes. On a nearby table there is an assortment of alchemical equipment.
Finally there is Zeg's bedroom, a cramped little 10-by-10 space with a bed, bookshelf filled with books, wardrobe (with several identical black robes), and a little table and chair. The table has some more papers and a pair of glasses without lenses. Next to the bed (filthy but recently slept-in) is an equally-long slab of dull green glass on the floor. The party has seen slabs like it before; they usually indicate something is, or has been, in temporal stasis. Strewn on the floor are more papers along with dried up ink-pots and a few spent quills. There is also a bowl with a spoon resting on its lip. Lastly there is a deep hole in the corner of the room farthest from the bed. The wizards opine that it was made with disintegrate spells; a faint whiff of sewage drifts up from it.
Dranko and Flicker scour the rooms for traps but find none. As for magic stuff: one book in the library radiates magic, as does most of the alchemical equipment, and the spoon. Morningstar does a walk-through with true seeing up but sees nothing different.
Flicker does find a secret panel behind the bed, and a little wooden box in a space behind the panel. He and Dranko lean over it eagerly, expecting they have found Zeg's heretofore undiscovered cache of riches. What they find is a collection of teeth. There about forty of them, mostly bugbear teeth, and they are only remarkable in that each one is perfect – no chips, nicely symmetrical, and free of cavities or other blemishes. None radiate magic. Dranko tosses the box onto the bed in disgust.
“He's powerful enough to cast time stop, but instead of money he collects teeth? Unbelievable!”
* *
The wizards cast their comprehend languages and start researching the many written materials they've found. It takes hours – Zeg's handwriting is barely legible. There a great deal of writing on the subject of building constructs out of bones – how to fuse them together, how to animate them, cantrips that help during construction, that sort of thing.
The papers on the table, which had the least dust on them, seem to be part of some research papers Zeg was in the midst of preparing. One is on the subject of keeping skeletal undead from decomposing when submerged for long periods. The other concerns what would happen if undead were to fight each other, and Zeg has been working out ways to make undead resist the attacks of other undead.
Dranko takes the one magic book and opens it himself, figuring that if it's trapped he has the best chance to dodge. He feels a twinge in his mind as he cracks the spine – it was trapped – but resists the effect. After Morningstar takes fifteen minutes to prepare a remove curse, Aravis looks inside. To the wizards' delight it's a spellbook. To their dismay, most of the spells have the Evil descriptor. But there is time stop...
Taking a break from his reading, Kibi takes out the diplomacy cloak. He's been thinking about how nice he'd look in it, and he admits to himself that it has been hampering his concentration. Before Morningstar can grab it out of his hands, Kibi just goes ahead and puts it on.
There's no doubt about it – he does look good. Maroon's a good color on him. The others look at him with apprehension but nothing untoward happens. Kibi himself feels no different, save that he thinks he'll be better at persuasion and understanding while wearing the cloak – which makes sense, given what he knows about it.
He looks over at Flicker, and a soft voice sounds in his head. “You know,” says the voice, “Flicker always feels a little under-appreciated for all the appraising he does for the party.”
Kibi walks over to the little halfling. “Hey Flicker,” he says. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you do for us. Especially appraising all the gems we find, but also for checking for traps. I really appreciate it.”
Flicker is a bit startled as he looks up, but then he breaks into a grin. “Thanks, Kibi. It's nice to know someone's paying attention! I've been hit by some pretty awful traps over the years – like those harm spells in Mokad's place. It's nice to know you've noticed, 'cause, well, sometimes I feel like I'm just in the background all the time.”
* *
The shelves in Zeg's bedroom are where the good stuff is: hundreds of pages about the Necromantic Forge and its function. The wizards learn a great deal about this infernal machine, including instructions for many different rituals. While much of the necromantic theory is lost on them, they gather that by reconfiguring the obsidian rods in the various holes, and pouring certain unsavory liquids onto the burning slab in conjunction with different organs and bones, they could create all manner of undead horrors down here. Then they could use the teleportation circle to send them off to who-knows-where to cause trouble.
Aravis finds a stack of papers that deals with the topic of Soul Shards, and he and Kibi spend several hours poring over them. Even with their mighty combined intellects, most of what they read goes over their heads. It would take decades of training in the Necromantic Arts to fully understand how to make a Soul Shard, or (more relevantly) to get a soul out of one.
After a failed speak with dead on Zeg, the wizards argue for a few more minutes before deciding that at best they've got about a fifty-fifty shot at freeing Califax's soul. The silver lining is that the cost of failure would most likely be in time and components, and that nothing would stop them from simply trying again.
“And when we're done,” says Aravis, “I'm going to disintegrate the wall with the holes. I doubt I can affect the Necromantic Forge itself, but I can do some serious damage to its control panel.” They also consider hallow and earthquake as means to makes sure no one follows in Zeg's footsteps.
The Company makes “camp” right there in the main chamber of Nazg Hodeth; after placing a greater glyph of warding in the teleportation circle and spike stones all over the floor, they make a secure shelter at the far end of the room from the Forge and keep careful watches throughout a nervous night. No one disturbs them, though when the Company wakes, each of them finds that they have turned their heads away from the flickering green flames.
Kibi wakes up and immediately thinks about the cloak in his pack. What a classy piece of clothing! He puts it on while Ernie adds his own personal touches to the morning's heroes' feast. The cloak says to him: “You can never go wrong complimenting Ernie's cooking. It's what he takes the most pride in all the world. He's heard it all before, but never gets tired of it.”
The dwarf walks over and dips a pinky into the jam. “Ernie, you know I just love having a nice hearty breakfast, especially in a place like this.”
Ernie smiles back, clearly pleased. “Thanks, Kibi! That's really nice of you to say.”
The wizards are already up and studying for their necromantic foray. Grey Wolf is thumbing through a history of necromancy, a beautifully illuminated work titled “The Veil, Torn.” He thinks it would be quite valuable to the right buyer.
“This is the most boring selection of library books ever,” Dranko complains. “Why do we never find books about the 'Secret Masters of Elf Porn?'”
Aravis smirks. “They're so evil, we couldn't even comprehend them. Thus, we go after the Black Circle.”
“We could have gone to see Darkeye,” says Morningstar. “Maybe there would have been some elf porn there.”
Grey Wolf glances up from his book. “That's my great-great-grandmother you're talking about.”
“You think Darkeye is related to you?” asks Flicker.
“It makes sense,” says Dranko. “I'll bet Darkeye is Moirel, and we know Grey Wolf is descended from her.”
“I wonder just how many of our enemies are related to Grey Wolf, anyway,” says Aravis.
Grey Wolf pointedly ignores him.
* *
Aravis has the best grasp of the ritual they're about to attempt, so the others assist him. They rearrange the configuration of obsidian poles, moving some around and adding new ones. Each time a pole is inserted or removed, the flame on the Forge itself changes in hue and intensity, at times burning orange, blue, pale yellow and a deep purple. When they're finished, the fire is a bright white.
Aravis also dictates the precise quantities of alchemical reagents needed, all of which are found in abundance in one of the anterooms. “Three flasks of frogwort extract, two drops of liquified bugbear tongue, one flask of aqueous humor, four drops of demon-skin acid...” He reads out all of the ingredients in the precise order to be applied. Ernie helps with the measurements.
In order for Califax's soul to be freed from the Shard, it must be placed in the very center of the burning obsidian slab. Dranko, endowed with protection from evil, finds that he cannot reach far enough to place the Soul Shard properly without touching the Forge itself -- something he is entirely unwilling to do. He returns to the room with the lizard skeleton and rigs a long femur into a paddle, which he then uses to get the greasy rock in position.
Aravis realizes he'll have a similar problem drizzling the various components onto the Shard, but solves that dilemma by summoning an unseen servant to do the applications.
Morningstar issues a sending to Tomnic at the church of Delioch in Hae Charagan. Speaking for Dranko. Trying to restore Califax's soul. Any minute now. Please “send” if there is any change. P.S. Mokad is still alive.
The reply: Understood. We'll keep a close eye on him, and I'll want to hear more about Mokad
The unseen servants follow Aravis's careful commands, dripping foul liquids onto the Soul Shard in precise order, forming a little train of bobbing flasks that would be comical in less portentous circumstance. The party's faces are bathed in white light from the flames of the Necromantic Forge. As the last drop falls onto the Soul Shard the black rock starts to shake and roll around on the slab. The flames leap upward and the Shard rises into the air – with a body materializing around it. It's a large deformed zombie, and the Soul Shard is jutting gruesomely from the side of its head.
“I think I screwed something up,” Aravis gulps.
Kibi nods. “Yeah, I don't remember this part.”
“Yeeaaargh!” groans the zombie, reaching up in a semblance of confusion to feel the rock growing from its skull.
Ernie instinctively turns the zombie, which is a big mistake. As the positive energy strikes the Necromantic Forge the backlash blows Ernie backward a good twenty feet. Angry fire leaps up in protest at the effrontery.
“Fine,” says Grey Wolf. He casts telekinesis and lifts the zombie up and away from the Forge. Morningstar turns and the zombie is flashed to powder. Dranko catches the Soul Shard but drops it just as quickly; it's burning hot and covered in foul slime.
“Well, that was fun” Grey Wolf comments dryly.
Aravis sighs. “Okay. I guess that pole should have gone into the second slot from the left, not the third. That was what I was least sure of going in. But everything else went right... I think. No reason not to try it again.”
They do try again. Aravis is more confident this time around, though part of him is fascinated by the thought that he could make himself all sorts of low-level undead down here without much difficulty. As the last drop touches the Shard this time there is a loud hissing, followed by an uproar of blue-green flames that makes them all flinch away. When they look back, the Soul Shard is melting onto the obsidian slab. A puff of white smoke rises up and disperses, after which the flame dies back down to its green steady-state.
Aravis requests that someone check him for Evil, just in case. He tests negative.
They send again to Tomnic: Done! Us again. We're really paranoid. Check him for evil, and a soul. We really hoped this worked. Really. Hoped this worked.
The reply: Califax just convulsed. Eyes wide open. Screamed, then fell fast asleep. Looks peaceful. Will detect evil, etc. Many thanks!
“Great!” Dranko exclaims. “Now let's knock this place down and go home.”
Aravis is more than ready; this morning he slotted disintegrate into most of his higher-level spell slots. After Morningstar casts dispel magic on the teleportation circle on the floor, Aravis hits it with a series of disintegrates that destroys almost the whole thing. Ernie then “caps” the floor with a wall of stone.
One down, one to go. Morningstar concentrates hard and manages to dispel the wall with the holes and rods. A groaning sound issues from the Forge itself, as Aravis quickly follows up with a disintegrate that gouges out a huge chunk of the wall, wiping out a dozen holes and several obsidian rods.
The Necromantic Forge flares up. Its massive energy, heretofore kept in check lo these many centuries by the powerful enchantments in the controlling wall, is released in a runaway torrent. In little more than a second its entire end of the chamber is filled with roaring green flames. After another second the Company can't even see the Forge anymore, and the flames are pouring toward them, a towering, encroaching wall of fire.
Kibi responds almost instantly, putting up a wall of force while the others bolt in panic for the exit. His spell isn't large enough to entirely seal off the Forge's side of the chamber, but now the fire's advance is at least slowed down as it comes spurting and cascading through the gap near the ceiling. Even so, they only have a few seconds before the entire room will be filled with the wrath of the Necromantic Forge. On the other side of Kibi's transparent wall they can see that the boiling flames are shot through with shadowy faces and swirls of black energy.
“Get us the heck out of here!” cries Ernie; it's clear that they won't be able to outpace the flames if they simply flee on foot. Kibi is able to teleport out with most of the party, and Aravis grabs Morningstar and does likewise.
Outside it's a lovely morning. They have relocated to their last outdoor campsite, at the edge of the woods abutting the graveyard, and about a hundred yards from the stairs down to Nazg Hodeth. Ernie activates his shield and flies up and over the cemetery to get a good look at what's happening.
They all feel a rumbling in the ground, and Ernie sees the tombstones shiver below him.
Dranko mutters nervously. “This is really, really bad.”
Ernie flies higher and moves off to the side. Then the mausoleum, the one through which they had gained egress to Nazg Hodeth, explodes in a shower of masonry and green fire. A geyser of flames leaps up fifty feet in the air and then pours splattering down over the bone-yard.
“Yondalla's muffins,” Ernie shrieks. “We've made an evil volcano!”
As he flees, he sees that the green fire is forming into tendrils that are wrapping up corpses, as if a huge fiery squid is reaching up out of the ground with burning tentacles and grabbing at bodies. Dozens of dead bugbears are grasped and pulled back down into the hole where the mausoleum once stood. Thirty seconds later the flames have entirely receded and all is quiet.
“I admit,” says Aravis, “we've stepped into unknown territory.”
Dranko laughs nervously. “Hey, something awful that isn't my fault!”
“We have to go back,” says Aravis, “and find out what's going on down there.”
The ever-prudent Kibi sends prying eyes down into Nazg Hodeth, with orders to come back staggered every five minutes to report. The first set comes back and shows Kibi a towering pile of bugbear bodies heaped on the Necromantic Forge, the fires of which have died down to their steady state, barely visible beneath all the corpses. The jumble of bodies is pressing up against, and squeezing through, the cage of giant ribs that surrounds the Forge.
The next set of Eyes comes back and reports nearly the same – except that the pile of bodies is starting to glow. The Company doesn't wait for the third set; they charge down the stairs again to put a halt to this new mischief before the Forge animates a pile of over a hundred dead bugbears into Gods-only-know-what. They arrive in time to see a final spasmodic short-circuiting of the Necromantic Forge, as seven of the remaining obsidian rods come shooting out of the holes to smash against the far wall. The glow on the bodies dies out.
Kibi dismisses his wall of force and summons earth elementals to remove the bodies from the slab. (Though the first one tries climbing onto the Forge to do this, and is immediately reduced to small pebbles.) Morningstar watches impassively as elementals hurl corpse after corpse onto the stone floor. “I love our job,” she sighs.
Aravis disintegrates the bodies, and now everything is more or less back to an acceptable calm status quo. Morningstar spends the rest of the day casting hallow (though she does not include the Forge itself in the area).
The next morning Aravis persuades the others to let him cast one more disintegrate, to remove another chunk of the wall. Most of the others leave while he does so, though Morningstar stays back to protect him. He carves another divot out of the Forge's control mechanism, but this time there is no catastrophic side-effect. Nonetheless, Morningstar convinces the party to spend one more night nearby, just to be sure.
* *
Kibi finishes the job, first by using stone shape to weaken the support pillars in the Forge chamber, and then (once the party is all out) by casting earthquake. The ground collapses into the room, burying the Necromantic Forge beneath tons of rocks and dirt. Satisfied that the Forge has been effectively neutralized, the Company wind walks back to Hae Charagan to check on Califax. They find him lying in bed, smiling and asleep while Woundtenders minister to his health. High Priest Tomnic is sitting by his side.
Kibi hears the cloak talk to him. “Tomnic is sensitive about not being worthy of his post. Deep down he knows that what he lacks in charisma, he makes up for in efficiency and solid judgment. But he still worries that he's not a natural leader.”
Tomnic nods to Dranko as they come in to Califax's room. “You have done your job well; he has been sleeping, peacefully, for days. He is quite healthy physically – and, I feel, spiritually as well.”
Califax stirs from sleep at the sound of Dranko's voice, and beckons the half-orc to listen, his expression suddenly agitated. Still only half-conscious, he starts to whisper urgently.
“I have to... something important,” he croaks. “Praska. She's not... Mokad's still alive.”
“We know,” says Dranko gently.
“No, no,” whispers Califax. “Mokad is... is Praska. Mokad is Praska. They performed a... morbid link, that... time he kidnapped her. Mokad formed a morbid link. When he died... she became him.”
Dranko's eyes open wide. “What happened to her?”
“She's in there,” whispers Califax. “But she's not in control. Don't kill him... don't just kill him, or she'll be destroyed as well. Please... Praska...”
“Everything's going to be all right,” says Dranko soothingly. “We'll take care of it. Just sleep, Califax. Sleep, and enjoy having your soul back.”
They leave the sleeping Scarbearer and adjourn to a private room, where Dranko starts swearing loudly.
“Now I feel bad about all those mean things I said to her while we were fighting,” he says. “It wasn't really her. It was Mokad!”
Aravis puts a hand on his shoulder. “She'll understand, Dranko.”
Dranko fumes. “That man has an uncanny ability to utterly piss me off.”
“Look at the bright side,” says Aravis. “At least Califax didn't say that there was an easy way to get Mokad out of Praska's body using the Necromantic Forge.”
...to be continued...
Anyhoo... here's another update.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 304
Short Circuit
The huge dripping fist swings over Aravis's head, but dissipates into harmless vapors before smashing down. As the wizard breathes a sigh of relief, Flicker receives a sending from Morningstar: I'm out of the Maze. Use your token to summon me to you.
Not lacking an inappropriate flair for the dramatic, Flicker breaks his refuge token while announcing loudly: “I'm a mighty Black Circle sorcerer. Watch as I summon a powerful priestess!”
Morningstar appears... in the middle of the black circle on the floor. Alarmed, she hustles out, and seems none the worse for it, though she glares hard at the oblivious Flicker.
A minute later Ernie appears as well -- not the horrible undead version, but the real original halfling they all know and love. He whips his head around. “Ooooh, let me at 'em! He mazed me, that... that...”
“That was me,” says Aravis. Morningstar smiles as her status of Ernie indicates “fine.”
Ernie turns on Aravis. “You did? What happened?”
Aravis doesn't sugarcoat anything. “You were turned into a horrible undead creature that tried to disintegrate me.”
Ernie opens his mouth but can't think of a good reply.
“You were undead,” says Morningstar, “and these poor mages had to fight without any clerics. Let's go help them, okay?”
* *
Zeg, Master of the Undead, is not actually undead himself. Dranko mutters last rites over his thin, frail body, then sets about divesting him of valuables.
While the clerics heal up their injured comrades, the wizards ID Zeg's magical loot. Unfortunately, most of it is Evil. The items are:
- a Flesh-eater Rod, which is what caused Dranko to rot. (3d6 damage for 1d6+1 rounds on a failed DC 31 Fort save)
- a Robe of the Archmage, of Evil alignment. (They think a wish or miracle could switch it to 'good.')
- a Deadwalker's Ring (Turns a victim temporarily into a spell-stealing undead servant)
- a Headband of Intellect +6
- a Ring of Deflection +5
While helping identify the items, Kibi's attention also returns to the magic diplomacy cloak they found after the previous battle. He considers trying it on – after all, he'd look quite dashing in it – but his suspicious friends talk him out of it.
So now the Company finds itself alone in Nazg Hodeth, while the Necromantic Forge still burns with its eerie green fire on the far side of the huge main chamber. Without protection from evil spells none of them can get close to it, and even looking directly at it causes headaches. But there are several unexplored anterooms to search.
“Maybe there's an instruction book around here somewhere,” says Morningstar.
One of the anterooms contains little besides Zeg's elaborate lizard model, now smashed up a bit.
A second is filled with bugbear bones, mostly piled into barrels but also strewn about haphazardly. A shelf on one wall is full of books and papers, and more parchment is scattered on the dirty stone floor. Many of these papers have carefully-drawn schematics, outlining different sections of the huge bone construct the party just finished fighting.
The third side-room has a dozen barrels filled with organs preserved in a thick clear fluid. There are many long shelves here, but instead of books they hold flasks and jars full of nasty-looking and foul-smelling humors and extractions. One is filled with insect eyes. On a nearby table there is an assortment of alchemical equipment.
Finally there is Zeg's bedroom, a cramped little 10-by-10 space with a bed, bookshelf filled with books, wardrobe (with several identical black robes), and a little table and chair. The table has some more papers and a pair of glasses without lenses. Next to the bed (filthy but recently slept-in) is an equally-long slab of dull green glass on the floor. The party has seen slabs like it before; they usually indicate something is, or has been, in temporal stasis. Strewn on the floor are more papers along with dried up ink-pots and a few spent quills. There is also a bowl with a spoon resting on its lip. Lastly there is a deep hole in the corner of the room farthest from the bed. The wizards opine that it was made with disintegrate spells; a faint whiff of sewage drifts up from it.
Dranko and Flicker scour the rooms for traps but find none. As for magic stuff: one book in the library radiates magic, as does most of the alchemical equipment, and the spoon. Morningstar does a walk-through with true seeing up but sees nothing different.
Flicker does find a secret panel behind the bed, and a little wooden box in a space behind the panel. He and Dranko lean over it eagerly, expecting they have found Zeg's heretofore undiscovered cache of riches. What they find is a collection of teeth. There about forty of them, mostly bugbear teeth, and they are only remarkable in that each one is perfect – no chips, nicely symmetrical, and free of cavities or other blemishes. None radiate magic. Dranko tosses the box onto the bed in disgust.
“He's powerful enough to cast time stop, but instead of money he collects teeth? Unbelievable!”
* *
The wizards cast their comprehend languages and start researching the many written materials they've found. It takes hours – Zeg's handwriting is barely legible. There a great deal of writing on the subject of building constructs out of bones – how to fuse them together, how to animate them, cantrips that help during construction, that sort of thing.
The papers on the table, which had the least dust on them, seem to be part of some research papers Zeg was in the midst of preparing. One is on the subject of keeping skeletal undead from decomposing when submerged for long periods. The other concerns what would happen if undead were to fight each other, and Zeg has been working out ways to make undead resist the attacks of other undead.
Dranko takes the one magic book and opens it himself, figuring that if it's trapped he has the best chance to dodge. He feels a twinge in his mind as he cracks the spine – it was trapped – but resists the effect. After Morningstar takes fifteen minutes to prepare a remove curse, Aravis looks inside. To the wizards' delight it's a spellbook. To their dismay, most of the spells have the Evil descriptor. But there is time stop...
Taking a break from his reading, Kibi takes out the diplomacy cloak. He's been thinking about how nice he'd look in it, and he admits to himself that it has been hampering his concentration. Before Morningstar can grab it out of his hands, Kibi just goes ahead and puts it on.
There's no doubt about it – he does look good. Maroon's a good color on him. The others look at him with apprehension but nothing untoward happens. Kibi himself feels no different, save that he thinks he'll be better at persuasion and understanding while wearing the cloak – which makes sense, given what he knows about it.
He looks over at Flicker, and a soft voice sounds in his head. “You know,” says the voice, “Flicker always feels a little under-appreciated for all the appraising he does for the party.”
Kibi walks over to the little halfling. “Hey Flicker,” he says. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you do for us. Especially appraising all the gems we find, but also for checking for traps. I really appreciate it.”
Flicker is a bit startled as he looks up, but then he breaks into a grin. “Thanks, Kibi. It's nice to know someone's paying attention! I've been hit by some pretty awful traps over the years – like those harm spells in Mokad's place. It's nice to know you've noticed, 'cause, well, sometimes I feel like I'm just in the background all the time.”
* *
The shelves in Zeg's bedroom are where the good stuff is: hundreds of pages about the Necromantic Forge and its function. The wizards learn a great deal about this infernal machine, including instructions for many different rituals. While much of the necromantic theory is lost on them, they gather that by reconfiguring the obsidian rods in the various holes, and pouring certain unsavory liquids onto the burning slab in conjunction with different organs and bones, they could create all manner of undead horrors down here. Then they could use the teleportation circle to send them off to who-knows-where to cause trouble.
Aravis finds a stack of papers that deals with the topic of Soul Shards, and he and Kibi spend several hours poring over them. Even with their mighty combined intellects, most of what they read goes over their heads. It would take decades of training in the Necromantic Arts to fully understand how to make a Soul Shard, or (more relevantly) to get a soul out of one.
After a failed speak with dead on Zeg, the wizards argue for a few more minutes before deciding that at best they've got about a fifty-fifty shot at freeing Califax's soul. The silver lining is that the cost of failure would most likely be in time and components, and that nothing would stop them from simply trying again.
“And when we're done,” says Aravis, “I'm going to disintegrate the wall with the holes. I doubt I can affect the Necromantic Forge itself, but I can do some serious damage to its control panel.” They also consider hallow and earthquake as means to makes sure no one follows in Zeg's footsteps.
The Company makes “camp” right there in the main chamber of Nazg Hodeth; after placing a greater glyph of warding in the teleportation circle and spike stones all over the floor, they make a secure shelter at the far end of the room from the Forge and keep careful watches throughout a nervous night. No one disturbs them, though when the Company wakes, each of them finds that they have turned their heads away from the flickering green flames.
Kibi wakes up and immediately thinks about the cloak in his pack. What a classy piece of clothing! He puts it on while Ernie adds his own personal touches to the morning's heroes' feast. The cloak says to him: “You can never go wrong complimenting Ernie's cooking. It's what he takes the most pride in all the world. He's heard it all before, but never gets tired of it.”
The dwarf walks over and dips a pinky into the jam. “Ernie, you know I just love having a nice hearty breakfast, especially in a place like this.”
Ernie smiles back, clearly pleased. “Thanks, Kibi! That's really nice of you to say.”
The wizards are already up and studying for their necromantic foray. Grey Wolf is thumbing through a history of necromancy, a beautifully illuminated work titled “The Veil, Torn.” He thinks it would be quite valuable to the right buyer.
“This is the most boring selection of library books ever,” Dranko complains. “Why do we never find books about the 'Secret Masters of Elf Porn?'”
Aravis smirks. “They're so evil, we couldn't even comprehend them. Thus, we go after the Black Circle.”
“We could have gone to see Darkeye,” says Morningstar. “Maybe there would have been some elf porn there.”
Grey Wolf glances up from his book. “That's my great-great-grandmother you're talking about.”
“You think Darkeye is related to you?” asks Flicker.
“It makes sense,” says Dranko. “I'll bet Darkeye is Moirel, and we know Grey Wolf is descended from her.”
“I wonder just how many of our enemies are related to Grey Wolf, anyway,” says Aravis.
Grey Wolf pointedly ignores him.
* *
Aravis has the best grasp of the ritual they're about to attempt, so the others assist him. They rearrange the configuration of obsidian poles, moving some around and adding new ones. Each time a pole is inserted or removed, the flame on the Forge itself changes in hue and intensity, at times burning orange, blue, pale yellow and a deep purple. When they're finished, the fire is a bright white.
Aravis also dictates the precise quantities of alchemical reagents needed, all of which are found in abundance in one of the anterooms. “Three flasks of frogwort extract, two drops of liquified bugbear tongue, one flask of aqueous humor, four drops of demon-skin acid...” He reads out all of the ingredients in the precise order to be applied. Ernie helps with the measurements.
In order for Califax's soul to be freed from the Shard, it must be placed in the very center of the burning obsidian slab. Dranko, endowed with protection from evil, finds that he cannot reach far enough to place the Soul Shard properly without touching the Forge itself -- something he is entirely unwilling to do. He returns to the room with the lizard skeleton and rigs a long femur into a paddle, which he then uses to get the greasy rock in position.
Aravis realizes he'll have a similar problem drizzling the various components onto the Shard, but solves that dilemma by summoning an unseen servant to do the applications.
Morningstar issues a sending to Tomnic at the church of Delioch in Hae Charagan. Speaking for Dranko. Trying to restore Califax's soul. Any minute now. Please “send” if there is any change. P.S. Mokad is still alive.
The reply: Understood. We'll keep a close eye on him, and I'll want to hear more about Mokad
The unseen servants follow Aravis's careful commands, dripping foul liquids onto the Soul Shard in precise order, forming a little train of bobbing flasks that would be comical in less portentous circumstance. The party's faces are bathed in white light from the flames of the Necromantic Forge. As the last drop falls onto the Soul Shard the black rock starts to shake and roll around on the slab. The flames leap upward and the Shard rises into the air – with a body materializing around it. It's a large deformed zombie, and the Soul Shard is jutting gruesomely from the side of its head.
“I think I screwed something up,” Aravis gulps.
Kibi nods. “Yeah, I don't remember this part.”
“Yeeaaargh!” groans the zombie, reaching up in a semblance of confusion to feel the rock growing from its skull.
Ernie instinctively turns the zombie, which is a big mistake. As the positive energy strikes the Necromantic Forge the backlash blows Ernie backward a good twenty feet. Angry fire leaps up in protest at the effrontery.
“Fine,” says Grey Wolf. He casts telekinesis and lifts the zombie up and away from the Forge. Morningstar turns and the zombie is flashed to powder. Dranko catches the Soul Shard but drops it just as quickly; it's burning hot and covered in foul slime.
“Well, that was fun” Grey Wolf comments dryly.
Aravis sighs. “Okay. I guess that pole should have gone into the second slot from the left, not the third. That was what I was least sure of going in. But everything else went right... I think. No reason not to try it again.”
They do try again. Aravis is more confident this time around, though part of him is fascinated by the thought that he could make himself all sorts of low-level undead down here without much difficulty. As the last drop touches the Shard this time there is a loud hissing, followed by an uproar of blue-green flames that makes them all flinch away. When they look back, the Soul Shard is melting onto the obsidian slab. A puff of white smoke rises up and disperses, after which the flame dies back down to its green steady-state.
Aravis requests that someone check him for Evil, just in case. He tests negative.
They send again to Tomnic: Done! Us again. We're really paranoid. Check him for evil, and a soul. We really hoped this worked. Really. Hoped this worked.
The reply: Califax just convulsed. Eyes wide open. Screamed, then fell fast asleep. Looks peaceful. Will detect evil, etc. Many thanks!
“Great!” Dranko exclaims. “Now let's knock this place down and go home.”
Aravis is more than ready; this morning he slotted disintegrate into most of his higher-level spell slots. After Morningstar casts dispel magic on the teleportation circle on the floor, Aravis hits it with a series of disintegrates that destroys almost the whole thing. Ernie then “caps” the floor with a wall of stone.
One down, one to go. Morningstar concentrates hard and manages to dispel the wall with the holes and rods. A groaning sound issues from the Forge itself, as Aravis quickly follows up with a disintegrate that gouges out a huge chunk of the wall, wiping out a dozen holes and several obsidian rods.
The Necromantic Forge flares up. Its massive energy, heretofore kept in check lo these many centuries by the powerful enchantments in the controlling wall, is released in a runaway torrent. In little more than a second its entire end of the chamber is filled with roaring green flames. After another second the Company can't even see the Forge anymore, and the flames are pouring toward them, a towering, encroaching wall of fire.
Kibi responds almost instantly, putting up a wall of force while the others bolt in panic for the exit. His spell isn't large enough to entirely seal off the Forge's side of the chamber, but now the fire's advance is at least slowed down as it comes spurting and cascading through the gap near the ceiling. Even so, they only have a few seconds before the entire room will be filled with the wrath of the Necromantic Forge. On the other side of Kibi's transparent wall they can see that the boiling flames are shot through with shadowy faces and swirls of black energy.
“Get us the heck out of here!” cries Ernie; it's clear that they won't be able to outpace the flames if they simply flee on foot. Kibi is able to teleport out with most of the party, and Aravis grabs Morningstar and does likewise.
Outside it's a lovely morning. They have relocated to their last outdoor campsite, at the edge of the woods abutting the graveyard, and about a hundred yards from the stairs down to Nazg Hodeth. Ernie activates his shield and flies up and over the cemetery to get a good look at what's happening.
They all feel a rumbling in the ground, and Ernie sees the tombstones shiver below him.
Dranko mutters nervously. “This is really, really bad.”
Ernie flies higher and moves off to the side. Then the mausoleum, the one through which they had gained egress to Nazg Hodeth, explodes in a shower of masonry and green fire. A geyser of flames leaps up fifty feet in the air and then pours splattering down over the bone-yard.
“Yondalla's muffins,” Ernie shrieks. “We've made an evil volcano!”
As he flees, he sees that the green fire is forming into tendrils that are wrapping up corpses, as if a huge fiery squid is reaching up out of the ground with burning tentacles and grabbing at bodies. Dozens of dead bugbears are grasped and pulled back down into the hole where the mausoleum once stood. Thirty seconds later the flames have entirely receded and all is quiet.
“I admit,” says Aravis, “we've stepped into unknown territory.”
Dranko laughs nervously. “Hey, something awful that isn't my fault!”
“We have to go back,” says Aravis, “and find out what's going on down there.”
The ever-prudent Kibi sends prying eyes down into Nazg Hodeth, with orders to come back staggered every five minutes to report. The first set comes back and shows Kibi a towering pile of bugbear bodies heaped on the Necromantic Forge, the fires of which have died down to their steady state, barely visible beneath all the corpses. The jumble of bodies is pressing up against, and squeezing through, the cage of giant ribs that surrounds the Forge.
The next set of Eyes comes back and reports nearly the same – except that the pile of bodies is starting to glow. The Company doesn't wait for the third set; they charge down the stairs again to put a halt to this new mischief before the Forge animates a pile of over a hundred dead bugbears into Gods-only-know-what. They arrive in time to see a final spasmodic short-circuiting of the Necromantic Forge, as seven of the remaining obsidian rods come shooting out of the holes to smash against the far wall. The glow on the bodies dies out.
Kibi dismisses his wall of force and summons earth elementals to remove the bodies from the slab. (Though the first one tries climbing onto the Forge to do this, and is immediately reduced to small pebbles.) Morningstar watches impassively as elementals hurl corpse after corpse onto the stone floor. “I love our job,” she sighs.
Aravis disintegrates the bodies, and now everything is more or less back to an acceptable calm status quo. Morningstar spends the rest of the day casting hallow (though she does not include the Forge itself in the area).
The next morning Aravis persuades the others to let him cast one more disintegrate, to remove another chunk of the wall. Most of the others leave while he does so, though Morningstar stays back to protect him. He carves another divot out of the Forge's control mechanism, but this time there is no catastrophic side-effect. Nonetheless, Morningstar convinces the party to spend one more night nearby, just to be sure.
* *
Kibi finishes the job, first by using stone shape to weaken the support pillars in the Forge chamber, and then (once the party is all out) by casting earthquake. The ground collapses into the room, burying the Necromantic Forge beneath tons of rocks and dirt. Satisfied that the Forge has been effectively neutralized, the Company wind walks back to Hae Charagan to check on Califax. They find him lying in bed, smiling and asleep while Woundtenders minister to his health. High Priest Tomnic is sitting by his side.
Kibi hears the cloak talk to him. “Tomnic is sensitive about not being worthy of his post. Deep down he knows that what he lacks in charisma, he makes up for in efficiency and solid judgment. But he still worries that he's not a natural leader.”
Tomnic nods to Dranko as they come in to Califax's room. “You have done your job well; he has been sleeping, peacefully, for days. He is quite healthy physically – and, I feel, spiritually as well.”
Califax stirs from sleep at the sound of Dranko's voice, and beckons the half-orc to listen, his expression suddenly agitated. Still only half-conscious, he starts to whisper urgently.
“I have to... something important,” he croaks. “Praska. She's not... Mokad's still alive.”
“We know,” says Dranko gently.
“No, no,” whispers Califax. “Mokad is... is Praska. Mokad is Praska. They performed a... morbid link, that... time he kidnapped her. Mokad formed a morbid link. When he died... she became him.”
Dranko's eyes open wide. “What happened to her?”
“She's in there,” whispers Califax. “But she's not in control. Don't kill him... don't just kill him, or she'll be destroyed as well. Please... Praska...”
“Everything's going to be all right,” says Dranko soothingly. “We'll take care of it. Just sleep, Califax. Sleep, and enjoy having your soul back.”
They leave the sleeping Scarbearer and adjourn to a private room, where Dranko starts swearing loudly.
“Now I feel bad about all those mean things I said to her while we were fighting,” he says. “It wasn't really her. It was Mokad!”
Aravis puts a hand on his shoulder. “She'll understand, Dranko.”
Dranko fumes. “That man has an uncanny ability to utterly piss me off.”
“Look at the bright side,” says Aravis. “At least Califax didn't say that there was an easy way to get Mokad out of Praska's body using the Necromantic Forge.”
...to be continued...
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