Black Bard
First Post
"Company of the Hopping Gnome"
or "Helmite's Friends" would do well..
Ok, ok, it sucks... Ask Dannel, he's the bard...
or "Helmite's Friends" would do well..
Ok, ok, it sucks... Ask Dannel, he's the bard...
Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Crits and Demons and Deaths, Oh My!
Add me to the list -- I can't wait for the next chapter to begin.
-----------------
And never underestimate the randomness of the dice. My party recently were in a dungeon and accidentally alerted all of the intelligent creatures guarding it. Any TWO of these creatures was a fight one CR above the party. They'd nearly died to the door guards. And now they were facing NINE of them.
Using some decent tactics and an amount of luck that bordered on the ridiculous, the entire party survived. I was hoping for that outcome, but I don't fudge the dice. At 9th level, I could see a group wounding a Glabrezu enough to make it flee. A larger than normal party with someone to occupy it's attention for a number of rounds first? It's unlikely, but possible.
Add me to the list -- I can't wait for the next chapter to begin.
-----------------
And never underestimate the randomness of the dice. My party recently were in a dungeon and accidentally alerted all of the intelligent creatures guarding it. Any TWO of these creatures was a fight one CR above the party. They'd nearly died to the door guards. And now they were facing NINE of them.
Using some decent tactics and an amount of luck that bordered on the ridiculous, the entire party survived. I was hoping for that outcome, but I don't fudge the dice. At 9th level, I could see a group wounding a Glabrezu enough to make it flee. A larger than normal party with someone to occupy it's attention for a number of rounds first? It's unlikely, but possible.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Let us begin...
* * * * *
Chapter 189
Kaurophon’s life had been cursed with an unending string of bad luck.
Or at least that was how he tended to see it. While it was true that the vicissitudes of fortune had often barraged him with unpleasantries, Kaurophon lacked sufficient distance from his situation to recognize that many of his misadventures were rooted in his own poor choices. He was canny, and possessed of a personal presence that was nothing short of overwhelming. When he put his mind to it, he could be charming, and utterly persuasive, even when evidence was not upon his side.
Unfortunately, he was also petty, conniving, greedy, and selfish.
Kaurophon’s situation was complicated by an accident of birth that placed him in an unenviable position. A product of mixed bloodlines, he drew perhaps from the worst of both. Had he been more fortunate in his early surroundings, he might have someday overcome those failings inherent to his personality, but from his youngest years he was surrounded by violence and ruthless struggles for survival that instilled in him a simple creed.
Take what you need, and damned be all the rest.
His innate talents allowed him to survive when others might have been crushed utterly in similar circumstances, and as he developed to adolescence the marginal talents that were the gift of his father’s blood expanded into a genuine talent for sorcery. For all his other failings, Kaurophon turned to the development of his powers with due diligence, and by the time he had reached the tender age of twenty years, he had already mastered spells that many human mages spent the bulk of their adult lives pursuing.
Of course, for him, these abilities were just a stepping stone, toward the greater powers upon which he had already fixed his avarice.
Now older, though perhaps not wiser, the object of his current fixation was before him. The power that he’d spent a good part of the last several years pursuing was almost within his grasp, and as he stared into the image suspended in the depths of his scrying mirror, he felt a tingle of anticipation.
Soon...
Then the words of a dying man threw all of his carefully wrought plans askew. Thinking quickly, he turned from his mirror and hastily gathered up several of the items he had prepared for just such an opportunity. Belatedly he returned to the mirror, and carefully inserted it into his bag of holding. He didn’t often take the device from his laboratory, as it was expensive and not especially durable, but with his objective drawing close to his grasp, he wasn’t going to let it slip away through lack of preparation.
His arrangements complete, he unrolled a scroll, and started to read. For an instant he felt a twinge of uncertainty, remembering the omnipresence of his bad luck, but he shook off the feeling and completed his spell, and vanished, leaving the laboratory empty behind him.
* * * * *
Half a world away, in a small vault of weathered stone situated in the depths of a vast desert, several other individuals were also musing on the question of luck.
“What are we going to do now?” Morgan asked. “We could be a thousand leagues from Cauldron.... If we’re even still on Toril!”
“Calm down,” Zenna said. She looked up as Mole and Dannel reappeared at the only exit, an uneven gap in wall of the vault that led outside. It might have once been a doorway, but wind and sand had widened it, whatever seal or portal that might have once been there either buried or decayed through time. “Anything?” the tiefling asked.
“It’s open desert as far as the eye can see in every direction,” the elf reported. He’d used his magical slippers to climb up the outer wall of the vault, giving him a good vista over the surrounding area.
“We don’t even know which direction in which to start,” Morgan pointed out.
“I be more worried with what be in the gnome’s bag,” Hodge said, the first words he’d contributed to the conversation since the battle’s end. “Or what nay be in it, as it be.”
Zenna turned to the dwarf. “If need be, Morgan can create magical food to sustain us,” she said.
But the cleric shook his head. “I have sundered myself from Helm by my weakness,” he said, his voice cold. “I must seek atonement, before I may seek his blessings anew.”
“Look, Morgan, I thought we had discussed this...”
“This has nothing to do with my covenant with you,” Morgan interjected. “This matter is between myself and my god.”
And with that he turned and walked away. For a long moment an awkward silence filled the space between them.
“So what yer sayin’, then, is that we ain't got no food, right?” Hodge finally said.
“We’ll face what comes when it comes,” Arun interjected. “For now we must attend to matters of the moment.” He glanced down at Alek’s body. The fallen paladin’s upper body had been covered with his tattered cloak, which still bore the faded sigil of Helm’s armored hand.
“Come, help me with him,” Arun said, and together the companions lifted the body and headed outside to bury the lost knight of Helm.
* * * * *
Chapter 189
Kaurophon’s life had been cursed with an unending string of bad luck.
Or at least that was how he tended to see it. While it was true that the vicissitudes of fortune had often barraged him with unpleasantries, Kaurophon lacked sufficient distance from his situation to recognize that many of his misadventures were rooted in his own poor choices. He was canny, and possessed of a personal presence that was nothing short of overwhelming. When he put his mind to it, he could be charming, and utterly persuasive, even when evidence was not upon his side.
Unfortunately, he was also petty, conniving, greedy, and selfish.
Kaurophon’s situation was complicated by an accident of birth that placed him in an unenviable position. A product of mixed bloodlines, he drew perhaps from the worst of both. Had he been more fortunate in his early surroundings, he might have someday overcome those failings inherent to his personality, but from his youngest years he was surrounded by violence and ruthless struggles for survival that instilled in him a simple creed.
Take what you need, and damned be all the rest.
His innate talents allowed him to survive when others might have been crushed utterly in similar circumstances, and as he developed to adolescence the marginal talents that were the gift of his father’s blood expanded into a genuine talent for sorcery. For all his other failings, Kaurophon turned to the development of his powers with due diligence, and by the time he had reached the tender age of twenty years, he had already mastered spells that many human mages spent the bulk of their adult lives pursuing.
Of course, for him, these abilities were just a stepping stone, toward the greater powers upon which he had already fixed his avarice.
Now older, though perhaps not wiser, the object of his current fixation was before him. The power that he’d spent a good part of the last several years pursuing was almost within his grasp, and as he stared into the image suspended in the depths of his scrying mirror, he felt a tingle of anticipation.
Soon...
Then the words of a dying man threw all of his carefully wrought plans askew. Thinking quickly, he turned from his mirror and hastily gathered up several of the items he had prepared for just such an opportunity. Belatedly he returned to the mirror, and carefully inserted it into his bag of holding. He didn’t often take the device from his laboratory, as it was expensive and not especially durable, but with his objective drawing close to his grasp, he wasn’t going to let it slip away through lack of preparation.
His arrangements complete, he unrolled a scroll, and started to read. For an instant he felt a twinge of uncertainty, remembering the omnipresence of his bad luck, but he shook off the feeling and completed his spell, and vanished, leaving the laboratory empty behind him.
* * * * *
Half a world away, in a small vault of weathered stone situated in the depths of a vast desert, several other individuals were also musing on the question of luck.
“What are we going to do now?” Morgan asked. “We could be a thousand leagues from Cauldron.... If we’re even still on Toril!”
“Calm down,” Zenna said. She looked up as Mole and Dannel reappeared at the only exit, an uneven gap in wall of the vault that led outside. It might have once been a doorway, but wind and sand had widened it, whatever seal or portal that might have once been there either buried or decayed through time. “Anything?” the tiefling asked.
“It’s open desert as far as the eye can see in every direction,” the elf reported. He’d used his magical slippers to climb up the outer wall of the vault, giving him a good vista over the surrounding area.
“We don’t even know which direction in which to start,” Morgan pointed out.
“I be more worried with what be in the gnome’s bag,” Hodge said, the first words he’d contributed to the conversation since the battle’s end. “Or what nay be in it, as it be.”
Zenna turned to the dwarf. “If need be, Morgan can create magical food to sustain us,” she said.
But the cleric shook his head. “I have sundered myself from Helm by my weakness,” he said, his voice cold. “I must seek atonement, before I may seek his blessings anew.”
“Look, Morgan, I thought we had discussed this...”
“This has nothing to do with my covenant with you,” Morgan interjected. “This matter is between myself and my god.”
And with that he turned and walked away. For a long moment an awkward silence filled the space between them.
“So what yer sayin’, then, is that we ain't got no food, right?” Hodge finally said.
“We’ll face what comes when it comes,” Arun interjected. “For now we must attend to matters of the moment.” He glanced down at Alek’s body. The fallen paladin’s upper body had been covered with his tattered cloak, which still bore the faded sigil of Helm’s armored hand.
“Come, help me with him,” Arun said, and together the companions lifted the body and headed outside to bury the lost knight of Helm.
Black Bard
First Post
Great intro, Lazy!!!
And just one more comment:
I like this Morgan fella!!
And just one more comment:
I like this Morgan fella!!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 190
Kaurophon felt a wash of hot, dry air surge over him as he materialized at his destination. The hot weather did not trouble him; he’d been to far more inhospitable places than this one. He turned to see the sheer stone wall of the desert structure rising behind him, its edges worn smooth by long centuries of abrasion from the harsh winds that occasionally swept across the desert.
The doorway would be on the opposite side, he knew, and there he would find those he’d come to seek. But first, he needed to complete the last of his preparations. He began by casting a minor spell that slightly modified his appearance, including one fairly subtle but very important change to his attire. Then, he drew out a small bit of something from one of the pouches at his waist—a powder that glittered in the bright afternoon sunlight—and spread it carefully in a circle around his feet, muttering an incantation as he did so. That done, he unrolled a scroll, and after scanning its contents, began to read.
The scroll had not come cheaply, and the spell was technically beyond his powers, but he’d often used such in the past without mishap. This time, however, his bad luck intervened, and as he read the final line, a stray thought popped into his mind, a tickle of the power he hoped to achieve once this course of action had been completed. He crushed the thought and refocused his mind on the task, but the damage had been done, and he translocated the two syllables in the last word, switching them. He realized instantly what he’d done, but it was too late; the spell had been cast.
The air shimmered around him, and three babau demons appeared, called by the powerful summoning spell on the scroll.
Unfortunately, rather than awaiting his commands, they instantly attacked.
* * * * *
“Did you hear that?” Mole asked.
Zenna shook her head, her attention focused on Arun, who stood over the slight mound that marked Alek Tercival’s grave. Digging a grave in the sand had been difficult, but they’d found some loose stone in the vault that they used to stack a cairn over the site, which hopefully would offer some protection against the elements.
Not that it mattered, really, she thought. Alek’s soul, the core of what he was, had already moved on to a different reality, and while she respected the rituals and forms that were used to treat the bodies of the dead, she didn’t really see the point.
Morgan stood a few steps back from her, his attention on the ritual, but not truly a part of it. The cleric—fallen cleric, she amended, if that was truly how he saw himself—would have preferred to take the body back to Cauldron, she suspected, but at the moment they had the far greater problem of getting themselves back to civilized lands intact.
Arun spoke a benediction over the man, his words plain but sincere. Zenna listened but didn’t really hear the words, for now she’d heard the same thing that Mole had, a faint, bestial cry that seemed to be coming from behind the vault structure...
“Something’s coming!” Dannel said, shattering the ritual entirely, hefting his bow as they all turned toward the source of the sound. Then they could see it, a humanoid form wrapped in a flapping robe of gray cloth, rushing around the edge of the building toward them. He was being pursued by a trio of forms already familiar to them, tearing at his flesh with their claws, trying to bear him down by a relentless assault. Several deep gashes in his arms and torso were already visible, drawing streaks of blood down the length of his robe.
“Help me!” the figure cried, as he caught sight of them.
“Demons!” Morgan cried, and all hell broke loose.
* * * * *
Me and the missus are heading up to Mendocino for a long weekend; next post will be Tuesday evening or thereabouts.
LB
Kaurophon felt a wash of hot, dry air surge over him as he materialized at his destination. The hot weather did not trouble him; he’d been to far more inhospitable places than this one. He turned to see the sheer stone wall of the desert structure rising behind him, its edges worn smooth by long centuries of abrasion from the harsh winds that occasionally swept across the desert.
The doorway would be on the opposite side, he knew, and there he would find those he’d come to seek. But first, he needed to complete the last of his preparations. He began by casting a minor spell that slightly modified his appearance, including one fairly subtle but very important change to his attire. Then, he drew out a small bit of something from one of the pouches at his waist—a powder that glittered in the bright afternoon sunlight—and spread it carefully in a circle around his feet, muttering an incantation as he did so. That done, he unrolled a scroll, and after scanning its contents, began to read.
The scroll had not come cheaply, and the spell was technically beyond his powers, but he’d often used such in the past without mishap. This time, however, his bad luck intervened, and as he read the final line, a stray thought popped into his mind, a tickle of the power he hoped to achieve once this course of action had been completed. He crushed the thought and refocused his mind on the task, but the damage had been done, and he translocated the two syllables in the last word, switching them. He realized instantly what he’d done, but it was too late; the spell had been cast.
The air shimmered around him, and three babau demons appeared, called by the powerful summoning spell on the scroll.
Unfortunately, rather than awaiting his commands, they instantly attacked.
* * * * *
“Did you hear that?” Mole asked.
Zenna shook her head, her attention focused on Arun, who stood over the slight mound that marked Alek Tercival’s grave. Digging a grave in the sand had been difficult, but they’d found some loose stone in the vault that they used to stack a cairn over the site, which hopefully would offer some protection against the elements.
Not that it mattered, really, she thought. Alek’s soul, the core of what he was, had already moved on to a different reality, and while she respected the rituals and forms that were used to treat the bodies of the dead, she didn’t really see the point.
Morgan stood a few steps back from her, his attention on the ritual, but not truly a part of it. The cleric—fallen cleric, she amended, if that was truly how he saw himself—would have preferred to take the body back to Cauldron, she suspected, but at the moment they had the far greater problem of getting themselves back to civilized lands intact.
Arun spoke a benediction over the man, his words plain but sincere. Zenna listened but didn’t really hear the words, for now she’d heard the same thing that Mole had, a faint, bestial cry that seemed to be coming from behind the vault structure...
“Something’s coming!” Dannel said, shattering the ritual entirely, hefting his bow as they all turned toward the source of the sound. Then they could see it, a humanoid form wrapped in a flapping robe of gray cloth, rushing around the edge of the building toward them. He was being pursued by a trio of forms already familiar to them, tearing at his flesh with their claws, trying to bear him down by a relentless assault. Several deep gashes in his arms and torso were already visible, drawing streaks of blood down the length of his robe.
“Help me!” the figure cried, as he caught sight of them.
“Demons!” Morgan cried, and all hell broke loose.
* * * * *
Me and the missus are heading up to Mendocino for a long weekend; next post will be Tuesday evening or thereabouts.
LB
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 191
Dannel immediately fired an arrow at one of the demons, but Zenna’s align weapon spell had already faded, and the missile, while accurate, failed to pierce the babau’s tough hide. The attack certainly drew its attention, however, and the demon turned and charged toward the companions, leaving its two fellows the task of tearing the hapless robed man to pieces.
The robed man proved himself not totally helpless, however, as he pointed a wand at one of the demons attacking him and spoke a word of magic. Teal-colored bolts of liquid energy spat from the wand into the chest of the demon, blasting black pits into its ugly gray flesh. The demon roared in pain and rage, and redoubled its assault, digging great bleeding gashes in the man’s sides with its claws.
Morgan rushed to his aid, brandishing Alakast above his head as if the staff were a two-handed sword. The sand slowed his steps, but his charge still carried him close enough for him to swing the staff into the back of the demon that the magic-user had just injured. Alakast struck with the force of a sledgehammer, and the demon collapsed, its spine snapped, to vanish in a cloud of sickly black vapors.
Arun and Hodge trudged through the sand to reach the charging demon before it could reach Dannel and Zenna. Their short dwarven legs had particular difficulty in the sliding sand, but the demon saw them coming and veered to meet them, snarling out a challenge. Hodge lifted his axe, but hesitated; his weapon had been damaged in their last confrontation with babau, and Arun’s hammer destroyed. Dare he risk his prized axe again?
But Arun demonstrated no such quandary, meeting the demon with a powerful swing of Alek’s holy sword. The blade clove deeply into its shoulder, and its left arm fell limp, the tendons and muscles anchoring it torn asunder by the power of the blow. Still it hacked at the dwarf with its other claw and its vicious bite, managing a glancing hit against the paladin’s helmet with its claw that staggered him briefly.
Arun’s determination finally made up Hodge’s mind, and he charged at it from its wounded side, swinging his axe. The danger posed by its caustic skin coating was moot in this case, however, as the demon dodged back, and the stroke missed entirely.
Dannel, realizing that his arrows were useless, sang a battle song to inspire his companions. Zenna, with most of her spells depleted, likewise lacked an effective counter, so she started toward the melee between Morgan, the last demon, and the injured spellcaster, to lend healing aid if needed.
Mole, of course, had disappeared somewhere.
The third demon ignored the foe that had struck down its ally so easily, and in an almost blind fury assailed the robed man in a last attempt to bring him down. The man cried out as the claws dug deeply, but then it was driven back by another blow from Alakast, and Morgan stepped in to defend the grievously injured magic-user. The man staggered backwards and nearly fell, and Zenna quickly rushed to his aid, burning one of her last remaining spells to fuel a cure light wounds. The man looked up at her, nodding gratefully.
The demons fought to the last, but facing Morgan and Arun, each armed with a weapon deadly to their kind, both creatures soon joined their ally, their bodies dissolving upon their death.
“Summoned creatures,” Zenna said to herself, seeing them disappear.
“Yes,” the injured man said. He pulled himself up, grimacing as his wounds protested the treatment. “It would seem that you have enemies here.”
“Who are you?” This from Morgan, who after scanning the horizon for more threats, returned to them, Alakast shining in the bright afternoon light.
“I am Kaurophon,” he told them. “And I will tell you my tale in full, heroes.”
“You’d better tell it in the vault,” Arun said. “The wind’s starting to pick up.”
The seven returned to the shelter, while the gusting winds obliterated all signs that they had ever been there at all, save for the rocky cairn close in the lee of the looming stone structure.
Dannel immediately fired an arrow at one of the demons, but Zenna’s align weapon spell had already faded, and the missile, while accurate, failed to pierce the babau’s tough hide. The attack certainly drew its attention, however, and the demon turned and charged toward the companions, leaving its two fellows the task of tearing the hapless robed man to pieces.
The robed man proved himself not totally helpless, however, as he pointed a wand at one of the demons attacking him and spoke a word of magic. Teal-colored bolts of liquid energy spat from the wand into the chest of the demon, blasting black pits into its ugly gray flesh. The demon roared in pain and rage, and redoubled its assault, digging great bleeding gashes in the man’s sides with its claws.
Morgan rushed to his aid, brandishing Alakast above his head as if the staff were a two-handed sword. The sand slowed his steps, but his charge still carried him close enough for him to swing the staff into the back of the demon that the magic-user had just injured. Alakast struck with the force of a sledgehammer, and the demon collapsed, its spine snapped, to vanish in a cloud of sickly black vapors.
Arun and Hodge trudged through the sand to reach the charging demon before it could reach Dannel and Zenna. Their short dwarven legs had particular difficulty in the sliding sand, but the demon saw them coming and veered to meet them, snarling out a challenge. Hodge lifted his axe, but hesitated; his weapon had been damaged in their last confrontation with babau, and Arun’s hammer destroyed. Dare he risk his prized axe again?
But Arun demonstrated no such quandary, meeting the demon with a powerful swing of Alek’s holy sword. The blade clove deeply into its shoulder, and its left arm fell limp, the tendons and muscles anchoring it torn asunder by the power of the blow. Still it hacked at the dwarf with its other claw and its vicious bite, managing a glancing hit against the paladin’s helmet with its claw that staggered him briefly.
Arun’s determination finally made up Hodge’s mind, and he charged at it from its wounded side, swinging his axe. The danger posed by its caustic skin coating was moot in this case, however, as the demon dodged back, and the stroke missed entirely.
Dannel, realizing that his arrows were useless, sang a battle song to inspire his companions. Zenna, with most of her spells depleted, likewise lacked an effective counter, so she started toward the melee between Morgan, the last demon, and the injured spellcaster, to lend healing aid if needed.
Mole, of course, had disappeared somewhere.
The third demon ignored the foe that had struck down its ally so easily, and in an almost blind fury assailed the robed man in a last attempt to bring him down. The man cried out as the claws dug deeply, but then it was driven back by another blow from Alakast, and Morgan stepped in to defend the grievously injured magic-user. The man staggered backwards and nearly fell, and Zenna quickly rushed to his aid, burning one of her last remaining spells to fuel a cure light wounds. The man looked up at her, nodding gratefully.
The demons fought to the last, but facing Morgan and Arun, each armed with a weapon deadly to their kind, both creatures soon joined their ally, their bodies dissolving upon their death.
“Summoned creatures,” Zenna said to herself, seeing them disappear.
“Yes,” the injured man said. He pulled himself up, grimacing as his wounds protested the treatment. “It would seem that you have enemies here.”
“Who are you?” This from Morgan, who after scanning the horizon for more threats, returned to them, Alakast shining in the bright afternoon light.
“I am Kaurophon,” he told them. “And I will tell you my tale in full, heroes.”
“You’d better tell it in the vault,” Arun said. “The wind’s starting to pick up.”
The seven returned to the shelter, while the gusting winds obliterated all signs that they had ever been there at all, save for the rocky cairn close in the lee of the looming stone structure.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 192
Back in the shelter of the vault, the companions gathered around their unusual visitor, with Dannel remaining by the entrance to keep watch. Zenna loaned Kaurophon a relatively clean cloth and a half-full waterskin, so that he could cleanse his wounds and some of the desert dust from his weather-worn features.
The delay offered her an excuse to study the stranger. He looked to be about forty, thin and wiry, though certainly not frail. His eyes were a penetrating blue, and the wispy hair drifting about his head was so pale that it was more white than blonde. His robe, she saw with surprise, bore a sigil on the front, a stylized drawing of a half-skull with a plume of smoke rising from its eye socket.
The others had seen it too, she realized, as Morgan, who’d paced impatiently throughout the stranger’s ablutions, came forward and boldly confronted the wizard. “I think you’d better tell us why you’re here, and why you bear that symbol on your robes.”
Kaurophon looked down at his garment with some surprise, as if reminded about something he’d forgotten about. “The Smoking Eye is why I have come,” he said, leaning back against the pillar behind him. “Do you mind if I sit?” he asked. “The journey here has been... difficult, even leaving aside the unpleasant welcome.”
“I am a sorcerer, a weaver of magics of some small talent,” he told them. “If our relationship is to dwell on a sound footing, I must also share with you a secret about myself of which I am not proud. I am an entity of mixed heritage, a stranger to this mundane realm. I bear the blood of fiends, and am the product of an unnatural liaison between outsider and mortal.” He lowered his head, as though the admission had wearied him further.
Zenna glanced at Arun, who’d shifted noticeably at the man’s revelation, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of the sword at his belt. Morgan, too, had reacted, his body tensing in what she’d come to learn was a sign that he was agitated by something.
“I tell you this so that you will know my desire to be frank and truthful with you, but also so that you may take what I am to tell you within its proper context.”
“For many years I was an orphan among the planes, traveling from world to world, seeking something... some sense of belonging. In these searches, I came across a place called Occipitus. Its current location is in that dark torus, the lacing of planes known as the Abyss.”
“So you admit trafficking with the nether powers?” Morgan said, pacing once again with nervous energy. Arun’s hand, Zenna saw now, was openly wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “One who comes and goes freely from the Abyss is not someone with whom I would have any dealings.” The cleric shifted slightly, turning his body away from the robed figure, punctuating his statement with his body-language.
“He hasn’t yet told us about the Smoking Eye yet,” Mole said. “It cannot be coincidence that he appears right after Alek gives us that message, with his dying breath.”
Morgan looked down at the sorcerer. “Get on with it then, demonspawn.” Zenna grimaced, having felt the cleric’s ire toward those of fiendish ancestry.
Kaurophon, however, merely nodded deferentially. “I appreciate your forbearance,” he said. “All will be made clear, I promise you.”
“It is true that Occipitus lies in the Abyss,” he told them. “But it was not always so. The layer was formed during an invasion of the celestial realms, an eon past. The demonic forces that penetrated in a raving horde into the higher planes were repulsed, but in the process the location of their intrusion was tainted, and as the demonic force was cast out, a portion of Celestia was torn away, to coalesce into what is now Occipitus.”
“I know a little of planar cosmology,” Zenna acknowledged. “I have heard of such things happening in the past, reorientations of entire realms by such cataclysmic events.”
Kaurophon nodded to her. “Indeed,” he said. “Occipitus was tainted by the demonic incursion and by its new proximity to the ‘nether realms,’ as the holy man of Helm has noted. But it also bore strong remnants of its original origins. The two ultimately blended into an odd juxtaposition of reality, though the darkness gradually subsumed the light, over the millennia.”
“Occipitus eventually fell under the rulership of a powerful entity known as Adimarchus, also a creature of extraplanar origin, though I fear you would simply call him a ‘demon’. He was a powerful being, and for centuries held sway over this new realm, shaping it gradually in his image.”
“This dinna sound like a place I’d want ta visit,” Hodge grumbled. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but Kaurophon heard him.
“No, ser dwarf, and in the days of Adimarchus’s rule, I would have most fervently agreed with you. But at some point, years past, the powerful lord of Occipitus disappeared from view. The tales of his departure vary—some say he was destroyed in a confrontation with one of the greater powers, such as Prince Graz’zt. Others report that he left voluntarily, in search of a new, greater realm to conquer. The evidence is uncertain, but it was immediately clear that Adimarchus had left behind a contingency to ensure that rulership of the plane would not fall to one whom he did not find worthy.”
“This contingency is known as the Test of the Smoking Eye.”
There was a momentary silence as the companions absorbed this information, each in their own way. Seeing that he’d drawn his audience into the tale, Kaurophon continued.
“The test was created by Adimarchus to grant dominion over Occipitus to one with both power and insight, as well as a certain philosophy of rule. I have spent time on the plane. It is dangerous, of course—for all its initial origins, the plane is effectively still part of the Abyss!—but the faint tendrils of celestial influence that remain make it a place that most demons find unpleasant, and it is relatively quiet compared to other Abyssal layers.”
“What is the nature of this test?” Arun asked.
“It is a series of challenges prepared by Adimarchus,” Kaurophon replied. “I have learned that each challenge provides the clues needed to reach the next. The first challenge is located in a ruined celestial cathedral, and involves a choice of two foes—a bebilith demon and a guardinal celestial—one of which must be slain to advance. I was not able to defeat the demon alone, so I could not progress further in the test.”
Morgan cut him off with a slash of his hand. “And so you seek our aid, so that you can overcome the challenge and become ruler of this land? Do you think us so simple that we would aid you, demon?”
Zenna was looking at Kaurophon, so she saw his eyes narrow, and the bright eyes grow intense. But after a moment, he relaxed. “Your verbal darts are not undeserved, perhaps. I am of a sort that your kind find anathema.” He shifted his gaze, and looked meaningfully upon Zenna before turning back to regard the rest of them. Slowly, his face twisting slightly in pain as his movement reopened some of his wounds, he drew himself up to face them again. “I ask only that you hear me out, and judge me not on your preconceptions, but on the value of my words, and my actions.”
“Your kind are expert at shaping your words to trick and deceive,” Morgan said, but he subsided, allowing Kaurophon to continue. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with feeling.
“I ask you not for your trust, for you barely know me, but I would wish that you understand my motivation. Long have I searched for a place, but only recently have I come to understand that what I truly want, what I truly need, is a way to reconcile the dark and the light that dwell within me. I would have you come with me to Occipitus, to complete the Test of the Smoking Eye. I seek this not for my own glory; in fact, I would have it that one of you, rather than myself, complete the final test, and ascend to rule Occipitus.” He looked again at Zenna. “For the nature of this plane is such that it may be bent to the heart of he who holds suzerainty over its realm. Through the stewardship of one dedicated to the precepts of Good, it is my belief that Occipitus may be redeemed, and its lingering currents of Light strengthened over the current power of the Dark that holds sway there.”
“You would have us rely solely upon your word, to embark upon this quest?” Morgan asked, but his tone was even, and Zenna thought she detected some uncertainty in him. It was something new in the man, born of his recent travails, and she couldn’t be sure of her reading of him now. It had been easier, she thought, when his personality had been more one-dimensional.
“No,” he said. He reached into his pouch, and drew out a tightly rolled scroll. Two scrolls, Zenna saw, as he unrolled them and separated them. Even as he handed one to her, and offered the other to Morgan, she could see that they were covered with the runes of magic. Divine magic, she saw, as she examined the scroll. Then she sucked in a breath. Momentarily forgetting the rest of them, she cast a cantrip to verify that the magic contained in the scroll was real.
“This is a potent spell indeed,” she said.
“What is it?” Mole said, hopping slightly to get a better look at the writing.
Morgan, too, was looking at his scroll intently. “It is a spell of plane shift, he said. It allows for the caster, as well as those he touches, to travel through the barrier that separates the planes.”
“Both spells are oriented to this reality, your Forgotten Realms,” Kaurophon said. “So you would be able to return whenever you wished. I am afraid I must keep the means of getting to Occipitus to myself... I hope that you can understand my motivation.”
“This spell is well beyond my abilities,” Zenna admitted. “But I could probably manage it, from a scroll. It looks genuine,” she told the others.
Morgan looked uncertain. “I will not use such magic, without knowing its source.”
“I purchased the scrolls from the church of Oghma, in Calimport. They bear the mark of that faith at the bottom of the text.”
“I have a question,” Zenna said. “Why us?”
Kaurophon nodded, as he’d anticipated the question. “When it became clear that I would require allies in my quest, I embarked upon various divinations in an effort to clarify the road I would need to take. Such aid was difficult to procure and murky in its revelations, but one such seeking revealed to me that a holy man, a prophet, would be able to guide my path truly. I was greatly encouraged and sought about locating this man. My search drew me here, to your Realms, where I have spent nearly the last half-year trying to track down this, my only lead. Sadly, though, my pursuit ended too late... as I finally located him with my magic just in time to watch his death.”
“Alek Tercival,” Zenna said.
“I did not even know his name. But I heard his final words to you, and immediately came here, using a spell of transportation from another scroll. I lack another, and therefore cannot return to my laboratory. My path, too, likes in one direction... ahead, to Occipitus.”
“Why the urgency?” Arun asked. “If you had identified us, wouldn’t it have made more sense to contact us in a less precipitous fashion?”
“I believe that time is becoming a factor. Throughout my search here I have continued to monitor events in Occipitus, and I believe that others have learned of the test and are seeking to complete it. Two such rivals I have specific knowledge of—a succubus and a renegade rakshasa. If they succeed, either of them, then it will be too late, and they will gain dominion over Occipitus, and shape it to their whim.”
“So you would have us accompany you to this plane, pass this ‘test’, and gain control of the plane? Then what?” Zenna asked.
“Then you could do as you see fit, returning here to your world, or whatever you saw fit,” Kaurophon said. “I want only to end the division there, and it is my hope to see the plane restored, someday, to a true state.”
Zenna glanced at her friends. Even though they tried to hide their feelings, she knew them all well by now, enough to gauge their sentiments. Their feelings ranged from indecision to obvious reluctance.
“We’ll need to discuss this,” she said.
“Of course.” The sorcerer bowed, and walked over to the far side of the vault, near the tunnel that led back down to the underground chamber where they’d found Alek.
Back in the shelter of the vault, the companions gathered around their unusual visitor, with Dannel remaining by the entrance to keep watch. Zenna loaned Kaurophon a relatively clean cloth and a half-full waterskin, so that he could cleanse his wounds and some of the desert dust from his weather-worn features.
The delay offered her an excuse to study the stranger. He looked to be about forty, thin and wiry, though certainly not frail. His eyes were a penetrating blue, and the wispy hair drifting about his head was so pale that it was more white than blonde. His robe, she saw with surprise, bore a sigil on the front, a stylized drawing of a half-skull with a plume of smoke rising from its eye socket.
The others had seen it too, she realized, as Morgan, who’d paced impatiently throughout the stranger’s ablutions, came forward and boldly confronted the wizard. “I think you’d better tell us why you’re here, and why you bear that symbol on your robes.”
Kaurophon looked down at his garment with some surprise, as if reminded about something he’d forgotten about. “The Smoking Eye is why I have come,” he said, leaning back against the pillar behind him. “Do you mind if I sit?” he asked. “The journey here has been... difficult, even leaving aside the unpleasant welcome.”
“I am a sorcerer, a weaver of magics of some small talent,” he told them. “If our relationship is to dwell on a sound footing, I must also share with you a secret about myself of which I am not proud. I am an entity of mixed heritage, a stranger to this mundane realm. I bear the blood of fiends, and am the product of an unnatural liaison between outsider and mortal.” He lowered his head, as though the admission had wearied him further.
Zenna glanced at Arun, who’d shifted noticeably at the man’s revelation, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of the sword at his belt. Morgan, too, had reacted, his body tensing in what she’d come to learn was a sign that he was agitated by something.
“I tell you this so that you will know my desire to be frank and truthful with you, but also so that you may take what I am to tell you within its proper context.”
“For many years I was an orphan among the planes, traveling from world to world, seeking something... some sense of belonging. In these searches, I came across a place called Occipitus. Its current location is in that dark torus, the lacing of planes known as the Abyss.”
“So you admit trafficking with the nether powers?” Morgan said, pacing once again with nervous energy. Arun’s hand, Zenna saw now, was openly wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “One who comes and goes freely from the Abyss is not someone with whom I would have any dealings.” The cleric shifted slightly, turning his body away from the robed figure, punctuating his statement with his body-language.
“He hasn’t yet told us about the Smoking Eye yet,” Mole said. “It cannot be coincidence that he appears right after Alek gives us that message, with his dying breath.”
Morgan looked down at the sorcerer. “Get on with it then, demonspawn.” Zenna grimaced, having felt the cleric’s ire toward those of fiendish ancestry.
Kaurophon, however, merely nodded deferentially. “I appreciate your forbearance,” he said. “All will be made clear, I promise you.”
“It is true that Occipitus lies in the Abyss,” he told them. “But it was not always so. The layer was formed during an invasion of the celestial realms, an eon past. The demonic forces that penetrated in a raving horde into the higher planes were repulsed, but in the process the location of their intrusion was tainted, and as the demonic force was cast out, a portion of Celestia was torn away, to coalesce into what is now Occipitus.”
“I know a little of planar cosmology,” Zenna acknowledged. “I have heard of such things happening in the past, reorientations of entire realms by such cataclysmic events.”
Kaurophon nodded to her. “Indeed,” he said. “Occipitus was tainted by the demonic incursion and by its new proximity to the ‘nether realms,’ as the holy man of Helm has noted. But it also bore strong remnants of its original origins. The two ultimately blended into an odd juxtaposition of reality, though the darkness gradually subsumed the light, over the millennia.”
“Occipitus eventually fell under the rulership of a powerful entity known as Adimarchus, also a creature of extraplanar origin, though I fear you would simply call him a ‘demon’. He was a powerful being, and for centuries held sway over this new realm, shaping it gradually in his image.”
“This dinna sound like a place I’d want ta visit,” Hodge grumbled. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but Kaurophon heard him.
“No, ser dwarf, and in the days of Adimarchus’s rule, I would have most fervently agreed with you. But at some point, years past, the powerful lord of Occipitus disappeared from view. The tales of his departure vary—some say he was destroyed in a confrontation with one of the greater powers, such as Prince Graz’zt. Others report that he left voluntarily, in search of a new, greater realm to conquer. The evidence is uncertain, but it was immediately clear that Adimarchus had left behind a contingency to ensure that rulership of the plane would not fall to one whom he did not find worthy.”
“This contingency is known as the Test of the Smoking Eye.”
There was a momentary silence as the companions absorbed this information, each in their own way. Seeing that he’d drawn his audience into the tale, Kaurophon continued.
“The test was created by Adimarchus to grant dominion over Occipitus to one with both power and insight, as well as a certain philosophy of rule. I have spent time on the plane. It is dangerous, of course—for all its initial origins, the plane is effectively still part of the Abyss!—but the faint tendrils of celestial influence that remain make it a place that most demons find unpleasant, and it is relatively quiet compared to other Abyssal layers.”
“What is the nature of this test?” Arun asked.
“It is a series of challenges prepared by Adimarchus,” Kaurophon replied. “I have learned that each challenge provides the clues needed to reach the next. The first challenge is located in a ruined celestial cathedral, and involves a choice of two foes—a bebilith demon and a guardinal celestial—one of which must be slain to advance. I was not able to defeat the demon alone, so I could not progress further in the test.”
Morgan cut him off with a slash of his hand. “And so you seek our aid, so that you can overcome the challenge and become ruler of this land? Do you think us so simple that we would aid you, demon?”
Zenna was looking at Kaurophon, so she saw his eyes narrow, and the bright eyes grow intense. But after a moment, he relaxed. “Your verbal darts are not undeserved, perhaps. I am of a sort that your kind find anathema.” He shifted his gaze, and looked meaningfully upon Zenna before turning back to regard the rest of them. Slowly, his face twisting slightly in pain as his movement reopened some of his wounds, he drew himself up to face them again. “I ask only that you hear me out, and judge me not on your preconceptions, but on the value of my words, and my actions.”
“Your kind are expert at shaping your words to trick and deceive,” Morgan said, but he subsided, allowing Kaurophon to continue. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with feeling.
“I ask you not for your trust, for you barely know me, but I would wish that you understand my motivation. Long have I searched for a place, but only recently have I come to understand that what I truly want, what I truly need, is a way to reconcile the dark and the light that dwell within me. I would have you come with me to Occipitus, to complete the Test of the Smoking Eye. I seek this not for my own glory; in fact, I would have it that one of you, rather than myself, complete the final test, and ascend to rule Occipitus.” He looked again at Zenna. “For the nature of this plane is such that it may be bent to the heart of he who holds suzerainty over its realm. Through the stewardship of one dedicated to the precepts of Good, it is my belief that Occipitus may be redeemed, and its lingering currents of Light strengthened over the current power of the Dark that holds sway there.”
“You would have us rely solely upon your word, to embark upon this quest?” Morgan asked, but his tone was even, and Zenna thought she detected some uncertainty in him. It was something new in the man, born of his recent travails, and she couldn’t be sure of her reading of him now. It had been easier, she thought, when his personality had been more one-dimensional.
“No,” he said. He reached into his pouch, and drew out a tightly rolled scroll. Two scrolls, Zenna saw, as he unrolled them and separated them. Even as he handed one to her, and offered the other to Morgan, she could see that they were covered with the runes of magic. Divine magic, she saw, as she examined the scroll. Then she sucked in a breath. Momentarily forgetting the rest of them, she cast a cantrip to verify that the magic contained in the scroll was real.
“This is a potent spell indeed,” she said.
“What is it?” Mole said, hopping slightly to get a better look at the writing.
Morgan, too, was looking at his scroll intently. “It is a spell of plane shift, he said. It allows for the caster, as well as those he touches, to travel through the barrier that separates the planes.”
“Both spells are oriented to this reality, your Forgotten Realms,” Kaurophon said. “So you would be able to return whenever you wished. I am afraid I must keep the means of getting to Occipitus to myself... I hope that you can understand my motivation.”
“This spell is well beyond my abilities,” Zenna admitted. “But I could probably manage it, from a scroll. It looks genuine,” she told the others.
Morgan looked uncertain. “I will not use such magic, without knowing its source.”
“I purchased the scrolls from the church of Oghma, in Calimport. They bear the mark of that faith at the bottom of the text.”
“I have a question,” Zenna said. “Why us?”
Kaurophon nodded, as he’d anticipated the question. “When it became clear that I would require allies in my quest, I embarked upon various divinations in an effort to clarify the road I would need to take. Such aid was difficult to procure and murky in its revelations, but one such seeking revealed to me that a holy man, a prophet, would be able to guide my path truly. I was greatly encouraged and sought about locating this man. My search drew me here, to your Realms, where I have spent nearly the last half-year trying to track down this, my only lead. Sadly, though, my pursuit ended too late... as I finally located him with my magic just in time to watch his death.”
“Alek Tercival,” Zenna said.
“I did not even know his name. But I heard his final words to you, and immediately came here, using a spell of transportation from another scroll. I lack another, and therefore cannot return to my laboratory. My path, too, likes in one direction... ahead, to Occipitus.”
“Why the urgency?” Arun asked. “If you had identified us, wouldn’t it have made more sense to contact us in a less precipitous fashion?”
“I believe that time is becoming a factor. Throughout my search here I have continued to monitor events in Occipitus, and I believe that others have learned of the test and are seeking to complete it. Two such rivals I have specific knowledge of—a succubus and a renegade rakshasa. If they succeed, either of them, then it will be too late, and they will gain dominion over Occipitus, and shape it to their whim.”
“So you would have us accompany you to this plane, pass this ‘test’, and gain control of the plane? Then what?” Zenna asked.
“Then you could do as you see fit, returning here to your world, or whatever you saw fit,” Kaurophon said. “I want only to end the division there, and it is my hope to see the plane restored, someday, to a true state.”
Zenna glanced at her friends. Even though they tried to hide their feelings, she knew them all well by now, enough to gauge their sentiments. Their feelings ranged from indecision to obvious reluctance.
“We’ll need to discuss this,” she said.
“Of course.” The sorcerer bowed, and walked over to the far side of the vault, near the tunnel that led back down to the underground chamber where they’d found Alek.
SolidSnake
First Post
LB,
I have read through some of the modules and this chapter was the one that struck me as the most difficult to seemless stream into the overarching plot, but you have done it so impecably. What you have written here is solid gold. Well done.
Now that we are passed some of the earlier chapters, would you mind if I asked you your advice in some storyteller tricks? I know that you are telling this as a story from your point of view and not necessarily running it as an acutal game, but you have probably read the series a thousand times over. My question to you for those of us running the campaign is how to blend one chapter into the next without making it seem "episodic" or "choppy." I know this sort of question can best be answered on a campaign by campaign basis, but do you have any ideas on how to prevent deadtime from "Life's Bazaar" to "Flood Session" to "Zenith Trajectory" to "Demonskar?" Sorry, I know this is WAY off topic, but I am inspired by your writing.
I have read through some of the modules and this chapter was the one that struck me as the most difficult to seemless stream into the overarching plot, but you have done it so impecably. What you have written here is solid gold. Well done.
Now that we are passed some of the earlier chapters, would you mind if I asked you your advice in some storyteller tricks? I know that you are telling this as a story from your point of view and not necessarily running it as an acutal game, but you have probably read the series a thousand times over. My question to you for those of us running the campaign is how to blend one chapter into the next without making it seem "episodic" or "choppy." I know this sort of question can best be answered on a campaign by campaign basis, but do you have any ideas on how to prevent deadtime from "Life's Bazaar" to "Flood Session" to "Zenith Trajectory" to "Demonskar?" Sorry, I know this is WAY off topic, but I am inspired by your writing.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Well, my view is that a little "deadtime" isn't necessarily a bad thing between major adventures in a campaign. Players appreciate some time to create items, make purchases, etc., especially at the higher levels.SolidSnake said:
Here are a few suggestions:
- After an adventure wraps, as your players if they have anything they'd like to attend to in between adventures. As a DM, you are of course free to use any of them as a hook to interject a minor side-quest or plot development...
- The Web enhancement for Dungeon #98 is very useful in this regard (available as a PDF from the Paizo Web site). It includes two nice recurring between-game events that can liven up an ongoing campaign set in Cauldron: regular visits to Skie's Treasury (which includes an opportunity for the players to make a name for themselves), and the Stormblades. I've incorporated the latter into my story as a foil for my heroes, and they will appear again later in the plot. Sadly Paizo seems to have discontinued this practice of having supplemental Web material for their mods.
- Cauldron is so rich in NPCs, it is easy to use recurring relationships between the player characters and major NPCs to provide continuity and develop the plot in between adventures. In my story I use Jenya primarily for this purpose, but there's also the Striders (Fario, Fellian, and Shensen will return!)
I've run a number of D&D and NWN games based on series of modules (often completely unrelated) over the years, and I find that the best way to create continuity is to get the players involved. Since most modules have a largely prescribed plot, this also gives the players a chance to have some sense of authorship in the story.
Of course, I don't have to worry about that in this story... although sometimes my characters do take me in directions that even I didn't expect.
Update tonight.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 193
“Well?” Zenna asked, once Kaurophon had gotten out of earshot.
“Well what?” Hodge asked. “It be insane, and that’s all there be to it.”
“Ah, come on,” Mole said. “Haven’t you ever wanted to visit the Outer Planes? My uncle Cal told me stories... he visited the Abyss once, did you know?” Her eyes glimmered with what could have been curiosity, the thrill of adventure, or madness—or maybe all three.
“I want to visit one plane, and that be Moradin’s Forge. An’ I ain’t in no hurry to be goin’ there again either!”
“Arun?” Zenna asked.
The paladin wore a thoughtful look. “He bears taint,” the dwarf said.
“Well, that’s obvious,” Morgan interrupted, but Arun forestalled him with a raised palm.
“It’s there, true, but the man is not as steeped in it as some. It could be that his two sides are warring, as he said, or he could be masking his aura in some fashion.”
“Even if he is lying about his motivations, we also have to consider these rivals of which he spoke,” Zenna noted. “If either of them secures control of the plane, then it definitely will be lost to evil.”
Hodge smacked his hand into his fist. “What business of that be ours?”
Zenna’s reply was soft, almost under her breath. “Those who follow the Path of Light are not always allowed the luxury of choosing their own battles.”
Morgan flinched as though he’d been struck. He knew the words she’d quoted, although they were not spoken by his patron, but by the god Torm, the divine being incarnated as a man in the Time of Troubles. Torm and Helm were rivals, but shared many of the same precepts of faith, and both stood strong against the forces of the Dark. She knew that Morgan knew the words, and kept them to his heart, but she did not know the extent to which they now ruled in a heart sundered by his own sufferings.
“But can a mere man always know where the path lies?” he whispered.
“There’s one other thing,” Mole pointed out. Zenna suspected that she’d already hopped merrily onto the Lets All Go To The Abyss bandwagon. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re stuck somewhere in the middle of an apparently endless desert, without supplies. If we do go with Kaurophon, we can always use one of his scrolls to zip back to Cauldron, if things go bad.”
“A caution,” Zenna insisted. “The spell is not an exact means of travel. You appear anywhere from a few miles to a few hundred miles from your destination.”
“So you could pop in o’er the bloomin’ Shinin’ Sea!” Hodge exclaimed.
“Yes, that is correct,” Zenna said. “Although you can target an area more inland, to mitigate that possibility.”
“Have I pointed out that yer all a bunch o’ ravin’ lunatics lately!”
Morgan’s head had dropped until his forehead was nearly touching the shining white shaft of Alakast, held upright in both of his fists before him, its base touching the floor at his feet. Finally he looked up, and there was a clarity in his expression that Zenna found reminiscent of his “old” self.
“So our options are thus: remain here, and slowly starve to death, or travel on a mission to a realm of great evil, to pursue a quest that may end in our destruction, or may redeem a plane for good.”
“I am only one of six, but I say that the road lies forward, not back.”
“Me too!” Mole said instantly, her hand shooting up.
Hodge looked almost beseechingly at his mentor, but Arun’s gaze was fixed on the knight of Helm. “Very well,” Arun said. “But we must be vigilant.”
“I may know something about vigilance,” Morgan said with what was almost a chuckle, as he touched the sigil on the holy symbol at his throat.
“Zenna?” Mole asked.
She had helped prod this along, she knew, but had her own misgivings. How could she not, she thought... given that they were for all intents and purposes going to be traveling to the place where her own dark side had its origins? And yet, like her father before her, she felt a grim fascination with what she would find... and a part of her needed to confront what it was, what was inside of her, part of her being.
She nodded.
They all turned to look at Hodge, whose face had twisted into a grimace. “Well, I guess me choice is made fer me, since I ain’t gunna stay here in this godsforsaken sandbox an’ starve. Though I ain’t gunna stray far from yer two that got them scrolls, mark me!”
And with that he strode off, though only a short distance.
“There’s one more,” Mole said, but Dannel, whose sharp elven ears had listened in on both exchanges from his position watching the exit, had already made his decision, and he nodded as Zenna’s eyes met his own.
“Then we’re decided!” Mole said, her obvious excitement failing to ease the anxiety clearly visible in the faces of the others. Even as she ran across the vault to fetch Kaurophon, they struggled with the reality of what they were doing, and where they were going.
The Abyss.
A realm of nightmares.
“Well?” Zenna asked, once Kaurophon had gotten out of earshot.
“Well what?” Hodge asked. “It be insane, and that’s all there be to it.”
“Ah, come on,” Mole said. “Haven’t you ever wanted to visit the Outer Planes? My uncle Cal told me stories... he visited the Abyss once, did you know?” Her eyes glimmered with what could have been curiosity, the thrill of adventure, or madness—or maybe all three.
“I want to visit one plane, and that be Moradin’s Forge. An’ I ain’t in no hurry to be goin’ there again either!”
“Arun?” Zenna asked.
The paladin wore a thoughtful look. “He bears taint,” the dwarf said.
“Well, that’s obvious,” Morgan interrupted, but Arun forestalled him with a raised palm.
“It’s there, true, but the man is not as steeped in it as some. It could be that his two sides are warring, as he said, or he could be masking his aura in some fashion.”
“Even if he is lying about his motivations, we also have to consider these rivals of which he spoke,” Zenna noted. “If either of them secures control of the plane, then it definitely will be lost to evil.”
Hodge smacked his hand into his fist. “What business of that be ours?”
Zenna’s reply was soft, almost under her breath. “Those who follow the Path of Light are not always allowed the luxury of choosing their own battles.”
Morgan flinched as though he’d been struck. He knew the words she’d quoted, although they were not spoken by his patron, but by the god Torm, the divine being incarnated as a man in the Time of Troubles. Torm and Helm were rivals, but shared many of the same precepts of faith, and both stood strong against the forces of the Dark. She knew that Morgan knew the words, and kept them to his heart, but she did not know the extent to which they now ruled in a heart sundered by his own sufferings.
“But can a mere man always know where the path lies?” he whispered.
“There’s one other thing,” Mole pointed out. Zenna suspected that she’d already hopped merrily onto the Lets All Go To The Abyss bandwagon. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re stuck somewhere in the middle of an apparently endless desert, without supplies. If we do go with Kaurophon, we can always use one of his scrolls to zip back to Cauldron, if things go bad.”
“A caution,” Zenna insisted. “The spell is not an exact means of travel. You appear anywhere from a few miles to a few hundred miles from your destination.”
“So you could pop in o’er the bloomin’ Shinin’ Sea!” Hodge exclaimed.
“Yes, that is correct,” Zenna said. “Although you can target an area more inland, to mitigate that possibility.”
“Have I pointed out that yer all a bunch o’ ravin’ lunatics lately!”
Morgan’s head had dropped until his forehead was nearly touching the shining white shaft of Alakast, held upright in both of his fists before him, its base touching the floor at his feet. Finally he looked up, and there was a clarity in his expression that Zenna found reminiscent of his “old” self.
“So our options are thus: remain here, and slowly starve to death, or travel on a mission to a realm of great evil, to pursue a quest that may end in our destruction, or may redeem a plane for good.”
“I am only one of six, but I say that the road lies forward, not back.”
“Me too!” Mole said instantly, her hand shooting up.
Hodge looked almost beseechingly at his mentor, but Arun’s gaze was fixed on the knight of Helm. “Very well,” Arun said. “But we must be vigilant.”
“I may know something about vigilance,” Morgan said with what was almost a chuckle, as he touched the sigil on the holy symbol at his throat.
“Zenna?” Mole asked.
She had helped prod this along, she knew, but had her own misgivings. How could she not, she thought... given that they were for all intents and purposes going to be traveling to the place where her own dark side had its origins? And yet, like her father before her, she felt a grim fascination with what she would find... and a part of her needed to confront what it was, what was inside of her, part of her being.
She nodded.
They all turned to look at Hodge, whose face had twisted into a grimace. “Well, I guess me choice is made fer me, since I ain’t gunna stay here in this godsforsaken sandbox an’ starve. Though I ain’t gunna stray far from yer two that got them scrolls, mark me!”
And with that he strode off, though only a short distance.
“There’s one more,” Mole said, but Dannel, whose sharp elven ears had listened in on both exchanges from his position watching the exit, had already made his decision, and he nodded as Zenna’s eyes met his own.
“Then we’re decided!” Mole said, her obvious excitement failing to ease the anxiety clearly visible in the faces of the others. Even as she ran across the vault to fetch Kaurophon, they struggled with the reality of what they were doing, and where they were going.
The Abyss.
A realm of nightmares.
Similar Threads
