Shemeska's Planescape Storyhour (Updated 29 Jan 2014)
- Thread starter Shemeska
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Tristol
Explorer
Clueless said:
I was referring more to the 'ever' comment. An ever is a very long length of time. :>
As for hitting 60+ AC.. well sure. If I want to cast a particular sequence of spells, pick up an item or two, and then have those spells strip any spellcasting for a period of time, sure. But I figure it's more useful to have a wizard countering spells with 50+ saves, than it is to watch him turn from meek harmless looking fellow into a green rippled hulk :> Just remember, nearly anything is possible with the right balance of items and spells. Which is why I don't tend to pick up items. I much prefer to reserve the items for those 'desperate need' situations so that the evil guys are balanced against us, until you absolutely need to beat them. That's what items are for (In my opinion anyway). Also the same reason why when Shemmie looks at me for the physical attacks I just say 'Give me the damage'.. there's no way they're not going to hit me with a typical AC of 35 or so.
Clueless
Webmonkey
Well, yeah - but 'ever' wasn't meant as a literally - more like an estimation of how difficult it is to pin that little fey's butt down.
And you know... I'm feeling the urge to declare Tristol's birthday in a few weeks and get you stuff. Our mage really ought to be harder to hit than that. What's your bracers of armor at?
And you know... I'm feeling the urge to declare Tristol's birthday in a few weeks and get you stuff. Our mage really ought to be harder to hit than that. What's your bracers of armor at?
Shemeska
Adventurer
Preludes to the Fall
"Evil is a mortal entity and not a created one, an eternal entity and not a perishable entity: it existed before the world; it constituted the monstrous, the execrable being who was also to fashion such a hidious world. It will hence exist after the creatures which people this world." - Marquis de Sade
Though their first attempt at a heroic rescue was less than expected, they did manage to butcher the remaining Mezzoloths and the Vaath torturer in several brief, blood spattered moments.
“Not fun on the receiving end is it?” Toras shouted out with a nearly gleeful laugh as he jabbed his sword repeatedly into the insectoid native of Carceri.
“Don’t act so happy about it Toras. And… gah! Watch where you send those bug guts flying. Evil bug guts even, ugg.” Nisha said as she gingerly stepped over a pile of the Vaath’s innards.
But, after they had made certain the fiends were dead and no reinforcements were on their way, they gathered around the shackled Nycaloth and looked down at him. Florian whispered a simple prayer and healed most of his wounds so they could speak to him in a lucid state.
“So, who are you and why should we not just kill you like the rest of the fiends here?” Fyrehowl said with her sword at his throat.
“I was second in command to the Ultroloth lord, Barzikonius ak Palin, of the tower here, though he vanished shortly before the traitors overtook us. Filthy traitors to the Oinoloth, they overwhelmed us and kept myself and many of my troops alive only to torture us for their amusement.” The Nycaloth snarled and spat. “My name is Durmage the Blood Winged.”
The group looked at each and then back at the ‘loth.
“Funny… that was the Ultroloth we watched get assassinated a short while back, wasn’t it?” Florian mused.
“You’re right, that was him there in the mercane demiplane. Interesting…” Tristol said.
The ‘loth narrowed its eyes at that information but said nothing for a bit as it pondered the implications. Finally it looked up at them and spoke, “Free me…”
“Excuse me?” Florian asked.
“Free me. You want to stop what is going on here, yes? I know the positions and strength of the traitors here, and my troops are still loyal to me. Release me and they and I will help you finish this here.” Durmage said.
“And how do we know that we can trust you?” Clueless said with skepticism.
“You don’t. But you’ll be butchered three times over if you try to take the tower by yourselves…” A sly glint sparked in the Nycaloth’s eyes.
Fyrehowl narrowed her eyes and Florian snorted softly.
“He’s got a point, as much as I hate to admit it…” Toras said.
“Sadly, yes.” Clueless replied without taking his eyes off the fiend.
The ‘loth rattled the chains impatiently, “Then release me and I will tell you all I know of the forces in the tower, then we wade in their blood as we are meant to do…”
“Why didn’t you just free yourself? You can teleport at will, and none of those chains or anything in this room have any dweomers to suppress that ability or spells like it.” Tristol asked as he surveyed the chamber slowly.
Durmage snarled, “Somehow they stripped me of the ability. I don’t know how except that it failed me and all of my troops just before the thrice-damned followers of Anthraxus assaulted us. I assume it was some magic wielded by their commander, the arcanaloth Parphinnias. He was a potent sorcerer so I assume it was his doing.”
“We can use his help. He’s right about being outnumbered, and he knows the layout of the tower.” Toras said.
“If you’re sure Toras…” Nisha said as she picked the locks on the chains holding the ‘loth to the metal torturer’s slab.
“Normally you’d be right not to trust me, but this concerns family matters, so to speak, and on this issue of loyalty the stakes are higher than any dealings with you all. My word will hold for this.” The Nycaloth said as he stretched his wings.
“You help us, and your former troops help us, and when we take the tower you all leave back to the lower planes immediately. You don’t belong here, and if you don’t agree I’ll have the wrath of Rubicon descend on this tower and raze it to the ground so help me…” Fyrehowl said forcefully as she looked directly at Durmage.
The ‘loth nodded its head and paused before responding, “Agreed. Help me slaughter these traitors and I will do as you ask. This place is unimportant compared to happenings back upon the Waste.”
“Where are your troops?” Skalliska asked.
“Down this current passage and off to the right. There will be a series of cells we kept prisoners in for torture and starvation, and beyond those are where my troops have been held in preparation for their torture and execution one by one.” Durmage said as he picked up the black iron trident of one of the dead Mezzoloths that shimmered with a coating of frost. He swung the weapon several times before smiling at the balance and pointing down the hallway.
Following the winged greater yugoloth they snuck down the passage and into a long, wide corridor lined with cells. The scent of rotting flesh rose from several of the cells, and blood tinged the air with a metallic, cupric scent. Fyrehowl paused and looked into one of the cells with wide eyes.
“They had guardinal prisoners. They had them and Tarnsilver did nothing to stop it?!” She snarled in disbelief and rage as she glared at the Nycaloth.
“He was blissfully unaware of this little portion of what we did here. He knew the main details of it all, both under Barzikonius and under the traitors who came after. He was spared the fine and more bloody details so as not to trouble him and induce any unsightly episodes of a haunted conscience.” Durmage said with a shrug as he walked onwards, “Free them if you wish but I have my own troops to collect at the end of the hall.”
“Hell no, you’re staying right here where we can see you.” Florian said as he looked to the Nycaloth.
“As you wish, but if you wait too long before joining with my troops the tower’s defenders will have ample time to prepare themselves.” Durmage said impatiently as he pointed down the hallway. “Don’t waste your time with these fools. They will only slow us down.”
“You can wait.” Fyrehowl said angrily as she opened the cell door and stepped inside.
The cell’s interior was dark and coated in filth and blood. Two figures lay against the walls, chained down and unmoving. One of them, an ursinal, was covered in blood and half-healed wounds; he seemed to have been there for a prolonged period and showed signs of starvation. The other, a cervidal, was covered in the welts and scars that belayed a severe flogging, though he showed no signs of starvation like the other.
The cervidal looked up with weary, bloodshot eyes, “Please… no more. We…” His eyes darted from the Nycaloth and to Fyrehowl and then the others, a single spark of hope lighting in their depths.
Fyrehowl motioned Nisha over to pick the locks on their chains as she knelt down next to the prisoners. “You’re safe, and we’re going to free you before we see to the fiends here. What happened?”
“My name is Artrus, Artrus Willowminder. I was on the mainland near the marshes that the Quesars first arose from when the fiends found me and captured me. I didn’t expect it and I wasn’t armed… why would I need to be? They took me here perhaps a week ago and they’ve been torturing me since then. I haven’t eaten in days.” The cervidal said before nodding his chin towards the semi-conscious ursinal. “His name is Tyburnis, but I haven’t been able to talk to him much…”
Fyrehowl looked on with concern as Artrus trailed off. “How long has he been here?”
“I can’t say for sure, but much longer than I have. He mentioned that shortly after he was brought here that there was some sort of revolt among the fiends here between two camps. He also mentioned that he’d been questioned by an Ultroloth… he whispered that in his dreams before waking up screaming…” Artrus said as Nisha finished picking the locks on his shackles. He rubbed at his sore and bleeding wrists with relief as they slid off and fell to the ground.
“The Ultroloth was my commander. The Arcanaloth Parphinnias was likely responsible for what you saw as a prelude to his actions here… the filthy Anthraxus kisser…” Durmage whispered harshly from behind the party.
Fyrehowl glanced back at the fiend, “What did you do to Tyburnis?”
The ‘loth sneered, “You wouldn’t want me to go into the details Elysian… he’s alive though, so be happy. The others he was with aren’t, nor a dozen others we had found and couldn’t allow escaping with knowledge of this place.”
Fyrehowl gritted her teeth together as she motioned Florian inside the cell to heal the wounded and tortured celestials. The ursinal regained his senses after several whispered prayers by the cleric and staggered to his feet with the same spark of hope in his eyes that Artrus had in his. “Powers of good bless you all…” he said, though his words trailed when he saw the Nycaloth. Something unspoken passed between them then and the ursinal looked away as the ‘loth bared its fangs and licked along their length.
Fyrehowl glared at the fiend as they all exited the cell, moving slowly to support the ragged and battered guardinals they had rescued. The followed behind the yugoloth another forty paces before entering another cellblock with a fourteen or more cells, each of them holding two to three black-shelled Mezzoloths. At the sight of Durmage they all rose to their feet and the air nearly hummed with the telepathic cries of the fiends.
“I am free and we will paint the walls with the entrails of the fallen one’s followers. Those with me fight alongside us, and I have pledged their safety.” He looked back to the newly free guardinals, “Even our former friends here. You remember them I’m sure…”
Unlocking the cells took several minutes with the Mezzoloths clacking their jaws and leering at Skalliska and Nisha as they popped the locks. Afterwards the lesser yugoloths arranged themselves into a tight formation behind the Nycaloth and began marching out of the chamber.
“Umm… just where are you going? The stairs to the upper layers are down that other hallway…” Toras asked as the fiends marched.
“Before we go up towards the ground layer of the tower we have one thing to do down here. The hydroloth pool is likely to be occupied and I don’t want to fight troops behind us. After killing however many are there we take the basement above us and equip ourselves from the weapons stores there, then up to the ground layer.”
True to his word he led them to a waterlogged chamber where the Mezzoloths charged and overwhelmed a trio of frog-like hydroloths, butchering them without quarter. Durmage smiled throughout the event and continued to do so as he led them all back out to the base of a wide, metallic set of stairs.
Whispering as he pointed up, “The armory is likely to be guarded, and after we take it, the main garrison will be raised and quickly upon us. They outnumber us two to one, but they only have one true spellcaster, the arcanaloth, and with you all we have several. On my order we go up.”
There were nods all around and the Mezzoloths said nothing but simply obeyed without question, as was their lot in life for their caste of yugoloth. Clueless and Fyrehowl glanced at the Nycaloth though with minor disapproval.
“Don’t act too in charge here. We can always take our chances without you.” The bladesinger said.
“Whatever you say my liege…” Durmage said as he motioned his troops into action and burst up the stairs with a single flap of his wings.
The others charged up behind the fiends into the sounds of battle and claws on chitin. The sounds ended quickly and three Mezzoloths of the opposite camp lay dead and mangled on the floor as those loyal to Durmage grabbed tridents, spears and pikes as the sounds of insectoid feet on steel and stone echoed out from above moments before an alarm rang out.
“Be ready, they know we’re here…” The Nycaloth said before screaming out orders to his troops and once again launching himself upwards.
They met the tower’s defenders at the main level when they emerged from the stairwell. True to the nycaloth’s prediction they faced more than double, possibly triple the number of Mezzoloths that they claimed to their side, along with several other sub-species of lesser yugoloth ranging from Dergholoth to Piscaloth.
The Mezzoloths crashed into each other like frenzied waves, but seconds later they were struck from behind by spells and from the front as Fyrehowl and Toras charged into the fray. Momentarily the opposing fiends were stunned and uncertain since they hadn’t any clue as to the identity and capability of their unknown assailants, and in that moment the tide of battle began a slow slide against them.
Screaming out praises to the Oinoloth, the Nycaloth Durmage was a terror to behold as he physically picked up one of the opposing Mezzoloths and snapped it in half bodily like a dry twig. Even Toras, who was in the process of hacking a Piscaloth to death, seemed impressed.
But as favorable as things seemed in that moment as they pressed their way up the staircase towards the second level of the tower, pressing the defending ‘loths back with ferocity, things swung back towards a stalemate as several things happened. First a bolt of lightning launched down the stairs and struck amongst the lines of both groups and twin globes of darkness landed atop of two Mezzoloths aligned under Durmage’s command. A pair of Nycaloths swooping down from above and wading into the battle followed the globes of darkness with howls of rage and screams demanding blood and retribution.
“How good to see you again Forcalt, Rezzivus… traitors…” Durmage said as he glared at the two newly arrived ‘loths as they advanced upon him.
Forcalt was struck by a blast of flame from Clueless and Florian assailed his partner a moment later. The former recovered quickly and appeared largely unharmed, and Florian was sent sprawled back down the stairs with a single smashing blow from the glistening, blurred greatsword that Rezzivus held in his hands.
The three Nycaloths hurled themselves at each other and Clueless dove into the combat as well, his wings a blurr of obsidian as he parried the greataxe wielded by the Forcalt. Those four battled furiously as below them, Fyrehowl, Florian and Toras were busy carving up the garrison of mezzoloths. And then a second bolt of lightning snarled amongst the ranks of their own Mezzoloths and felled several of them at once.
“What the hell?” Nisha said as she looked up at the source of the lightning and watched a small fleshy orb with multiple eyestalks and a central eye snarl and hover at the edge of the stairs.
Nisha pointed at the eyeball beholder-kin and shouted out to Tristol. The aasimar nodded and a moment later a fireball detonated at the stairwell and the familiar screamed as it darted back up and out of sight.
“The arcanaloth is probably watching this all through his familiar, and it looks like he can target spells and cast them through it as well…” Tristol said as he ducked a thrown trident that clattered against the tower wall.
The fighting continued and soon Toras managed to work his way up to aid Clueless and Durmage against the other two Nycaloths who were both more massive then either of their opponents, and seemingly better armored. At three against two the odds swung against the Anthraxus supporters and they both took blow after blow. Finally, with a series of strikes from Toras, one of them collapsed and fell to the landing some twenty feet below with a sickening crunch where the battle was almost over with only a handful of Mezzoloths alive on both sides. A split second later a fireball from above killed most of those few left alive.
“Oh damnit, you don’t give up do you?” Tristol said as he hurled a fireball back up towards where the beholder-kin familiar was taking potshots. Skalliska however signed, loaded her crossbow and darted upwards in chase.
Ducking down and running as fast as she could, Skalliska bolted up the stairs with hardly a look backwards. Hiding as best she could and pausing but briefly at each of the three landings she passed to look for the familiar, she emerged at the top level of the tower which was composed of a single room.
Skalliska had her crossbow drawn as she emerged into the room to see two figures, one of them who had just appeared in the room with the bright flash of light of a teleport. Rezzivus the Nycaloth, his fellow Nycaloth dead three stories below, knelt on the ground, badly wounded and bleeding. Standing above him with a look of disdain was a black robed Arcanaloth and hovering over the sorcerer’s shoulder was a tiny eyeball beholder-kin.
“My lord Parphinnias, the battle goes poorly and Forcalt is dead. They have several spellcasters on their side and we have none. Please, you have to help us or the tower will be lost.” The Nycaloth said as it looked up at its sneering, jackal-headed superior.
And then Skalliska snickered, “Wimp…”
The last thing the kobold saw was the eyeball beholder-kin swivel a half-dozen eyes in her direction, followed by Parphinnias calmly extending a hand towards her and whispering a single word. The green flash that erupted from his hand left only a pile of ash scattered amongst her belongings.
Down below, the battle was over and piles of fiendish corpses were in the slow process of erupting into flame, dissolving into pools of acidic liquid, or simply crumbling to foul-smelling ashes. Of the Mydianchlarus loyal fiends, only the Nycaloth was still alive and he was badly injured with one of his wings hanging uselessly to one side, limp.
“The arcanaloth is still alive and we must hurry or he may flee, the coward…make certain to kill the slasraths tethered to the mounts two levels up or he may attempt to take one of them and run.” Durmage said as he breathed heavily and climbed the stairs.
Following him the others went, stopping only briefly two levels up to do as he suggested. Then, having butchered the tethered flyers without hesitation, they charged up the stairs into the single chamber that filled the highest floor of the tower. None of them noticed the dusty pile of ashes and Skalliska’s belongings as the burst into the room.
“Wait a minute, there isn’t anyone…” Nisha said a moment before Fyrehowl dove for cover and another moment before a fireball detonated atop of them.
Fading into view was the current lord of the tower, the arcanaloth Parphinnias. A curl of smoke rose from his still outstretched hand as he stood some twenty paces from the group. Behind him hovered his eye-studded familiar that snarled in proxy for its chuckling master.
The arcanaloth’s subsequent words were silenced by a roaring column of flame invoked by Florian. When the swirling pyre of divine flame vanished, there was nothing left but a charred stain upon the floor.
“Feel victorious oh bold heroes, you have managed to valiantly butcher an illusion and I congratulate you heartily. Shall we try this once more perhaps?” The ‘loth said from a position across the room as he raised his hand.
Looking back at a howl of rage from the Nycaloth Durmage, the group noticed that the arcanaloth had encased the other fiend in a spherical shell of force, effectively removing it from the battle.
Tristol however, didn’t look, but rather he managed to cast first before the arcanaloth completed a second spell, and hurled a gleaming, fiery bead streaking towards the fiend.
“Oh, very amusing little mageling.” The arcanaloth said with a snicker as Tristol’s fireball was snuffed as soon as it entered within a twenty-foot boundary from him. “Shall I teach you some real magic now?”
With a whispered word, a column of nine burning beams of light shot out from the arcanaloth’s hand blasting his startled opponents with bursts of flame, lightning, ice, and even more exotic effects that left them hurt, and in Nisha’s case staggering and drooling.
Recovering from the prismatic spray, the group charged the fiend with their weapons drawn or hurled spells at it. A crackling bolt of lightning arced from the fiend to snarl around every member of the group but Toras managed to strike a heavy blow as he seemed to be unaffected by the electricity that had left the others stunned and badly wounded.
The fighter’s blow cleaved the fiend nearly in half, but then something strange happened. Rather than spurting blood, the dead fiend dissolved into frost and sparks of magic as a telepathic laugh echoed through Toras’s head.
“Idiot… once fooled shame on you, fooled twice… haha…how do you kill something my friend if you cannot find it?”
Another fireball erupted near the center of the party as they realized that the fiend was both still alive and still within the room.
“Damnit! He was using a simulacrum!” Tristol shouted as he tried to think of a useful spell to locate the fiend.
“He’s somewhere on that side of the room,” Florian said, pointing, as he concentrated and felt the fiend’s presence like smelling a pile of rotting meat in a darkened room, it was evident and unmistakable.
Tristol hurled a cone of cold towards the section of the room where Florian had indicated, only to have the fiend counterspell it with seeming ease. And once more came its mocking voice flitting through their minds.
“Is this all that Rubicon sent? Surely they could have done better. And what will then do when you fail to return? A pity about it I’m sure…”
The fiend’s taunts were cut off sharply as his invisible form was outlined in a halo of flickering purple and blue faerie fire. As his form became visible he was instantly the target of spells from both Tristol and Florian, as well as a wave of ice from Fyrehowl’s outstretched hand. All three incantations struck with heavy effects, both the lupinals cone of cold, Tristol’s enervation, and Florian’s flamestrike. The arcanaloth shrieked in pain, and a second time as the body of his familiar drifted into visibility at his outlined form’s feet.
Badly wounded and his familiar dead, the arcanaloth floated backwards and seemed to concentrate on something before looking perplexed and frustrated. A second time he concentrated on the same thing and a second time whatever it was, it failed him utterly. A look of panic crossed his features before Florian called down a second flamestrike on him where he stood. As he died and was consumed by the holy flames, Parphinnias could only wonder why his teleportation ability had failed him utterly in those last moments.
The group stood clustered around the charred remains of the arcanaloth and they smiled in relief despite their hellish wounds. A moment later the first eight inches of Clueless’s sword burst out of Durmage’s chest and the Nycaloth collapsed dead to the ground.
All eyes focused on Clueless as the Nycaloth shuddered and began to smoulder and turn to acidic ash as it dissolved in death. Clueless flicked his sword clean in a casual yet business-like manner.
“What the hell was that for?!” Fyrehowl shouted to the bladesinger. “We gave him our word that once he helped us he could leave back to his home plane, anywhere but here on Elysium. Why?!”
“He knew too much. He heard us mention seeing that Ultroloth Barzikonius get assassinated, and that alone is enough. That doesn’t need to spread or else it might come back to haunt us more than it likely will. I wasn’t going to risk it and it’s too late now.”
“Well hells, that’s the last of them then unless we want to make one quick check through the tower for anything that’s possibly left behind.” Toras said as Nisha was bent over the charred remains of the arcanaloth and happily picking through the burning remnants for his possessions.
“We’ve secretly replaced Skalliska with ashes today, let’s see if Nisha notices the difference!” The tiefling said to noone in particular as she grabbed things and stuffed them into her satchel. “Nisha pilfers and there’s no objections from the kobold, and all is good and fine in the world. Somewhere Skalliska is angry at being left out of the grabbing and looting, but she does nothing except perhaps to billow angrily.”
Tristol chuckled and patted Nisha on the head as he casually picked up a thick spellbook from the arcanaloth’s shelves. The book was bound in some manner of hide, but by any guess it wasn’t standard leather; it was far too supple for that. Additionally, Tristol took a quill-pen that stood next to the book within a wall-mounted fountain of blood that was magically kept warm and liquid. One look at the pen and its magical nature, as well as the fact that it appeared to have been carved from Avoral bone, and Tristol had it slipped inside his robes and away from Fyrehowl’s gaze.
The rest of the sorcerous fiend’s possessions were gathered together to sort out later, though Clueless took the fiend’s crystal ball that had sat on a pedestal next to the shelves that had held its spellbook. The scrying ball was a deep, blood red color with occlusions of black and lighter shades of red swirling through its interior. Oddly there was no objection to the bladesinger taking it since Tristol already had a crystal ball of his own, Florian wanted little to do with the fiend created item, and Skalliska wasn’t in a position to object.
Most of the fiends’ chambers were starkly furnished with the exception of the arcanaloth’s chamber they had already picked clean. Two rooms were different, one immediately below the top of the tower that was sealed, and the room that had served to house Tarnsilver.
The fallen lupinal’s room was simple and humble, despite his fallibility and mad ambitions in the end. The walls were decorated with several hangings of the symbol of the Transcendent Order and scenes from the three other layers of Elysium. The group let Fyrehowl enter and spend some quiet time in reflection alone while they left her and examined the sealed chamber.
“Hmm, looks like it’s mage locked and that the arcanaloth warded it as well. Give me a minute here…” Tristol said before he dispelled the magic bound to the door.
“What’s the symbol on the door?” Florian asked.
“A personal sigil, I’d guessing the symbol of the Ultroloth who was in charge of the tower before the other group of ‘loths took over. Though why they felt it wise to lock and ward it, I can’t say.” Tristol said as he swung the door open tentatively.
“And that might be why…” Toras said as they peered into the chamber.
The room was empty except for a single table in the center of the room atop which sat a complex device of iron and crystal within which was cradled a brilliantly glowing white sphere.
“Tristol? What the heck is that?” Nisha asked from behind the mage.
“… let go of my tail and I’ll tell you…” The wizard said.
“Sorry…”
“Whatever it is it’s covered in abjuration magic.” Tristol commented.
“And it’s radiating good…” Florian said as he moved into the room to look at the glowing sphere within the larger contraption.
Following the cleric’s lead the others approached and looked into the glowing sphere as well. Inside the light wasn’t steady, but moved slightly and seemed almost alive.
“Oh they didn’t…” Toras said as he reached out to take hold of the sphere.
“Didn’t what?” Nisha asked.
“The other natives of Belarian, the Quesar, beings of light. One of them is trapped inside this thing. They probably found it and the Ultroloth has had it bottled up since then and the arcanaloth either didn’t know how the device worked, or what it was, but in any event he felt the good of what was inside it and was afraid to muck around with it.” The fighter said as he looked into the interior of the sphere.
And with that he crushed the crystalline globe and released the being trapped inside. A flash of brilliant light filled the chamber with an intensity that made them all squint to avoid hurting their eyes, and then it was gone with a whisper on the air of “Thank you…” as the celestial darted from the chamber and out into the plane at large without the tower’s walls serving as a barrier in the least.
“Well another good deed for the day then, we’ll have to mark it on our list.” Nisha said with a grin.
“Might make up for Clueless backstabbing that ‘loth. Sorry there, but that really set me on edge what you did back there.” Florian said with a shrug. Clueless ignored it and they continued on.
Collecting Fyrehowl they made one further check of the tower and found little else besides a journal of sorts that the arcanaloth had been keeping to chronicle his time in the tower and their goals. Reading through it, the material confirmed Tarnsilver’s statements about his and the ‘loths’ goals for the Mother of Serpents, but it also went into details that had been kept hidden from the lupinal. Tarnsilver hadn’t been aware just how many guardinals had been captured, tortured and finally killed in the depths of the tower, nor had he been fully aware of the shipments of mortals and mortal souls to the tower to serve as food and playthings for the fiend. Most of the grisly details had been kept out of the lupinal’s view. However neither did the material suggest any larger involvement than they had already found. The book and their story would follow them back to Rubicon when they presented their findings to Duke Jalinon.
Hours later, the tower left far behind them, they approached the shores of Belarian at the delta of the river Oceanus and bay within which the fortress of Rubicon sat proudly. Triumphant and with the two rescued guardinals in tow, they landed and entered the fortress.
Inside, they were granted audience with Duke Jalinon and explained to the guardinal lord what they had found on the mainland, the apparent schemes of the ‘loths, the collusion of the fallen lupinal Tarnsilver, and how they had cleaned the tower of its fiendish inhabitants. The two rescued guardinals both added their own tales and backed up the group’s own claims while praising them for their rescue.
“I am proud of you all, especially you Fyrehowl. I can ask little of you all now, and I owe you a boon. You have earned rest though for the moment. I would have you all visit Eronia and give your findings there to Duke Windheir the Avoral Lord, then return to me and I will give you a gift to repay my debt to you, and that of all of us here. Your companion Skalliska will be brought back to you shortly and then you will be shown to a portal.” Jalinon said with pride and thanks.
Elsewhere, some time later, Skalliska awoke from oblivion and looked up into the eyes of a smiling ursinal clad in the brown and blue robes of a cleric of Celestian, a neutral good power of planewalkers. “Welcome back to us, your companions are waiting for you outside. And may I express my thanks for what you and they have done, it is appreciated deeply.”
Skalliska looked down at her self and then back up to the guardinal cleric, “Where’s all the stuff I had on me? You didn’t steal any of it did you?”
Out in the hallway, Nisha smacked her forehead with her hand and sighed. “We need to put her together with a grumpy dwarf, a feminine male elf, and a stupid half-orc and we’ll have the party of stereotypes.”
“She’s not exactly breaking the mold of her people.” Clueless replied.
“She asked if the ursinal that raised her from the dead had stolen her stuff. Not thank you for bringing me back to life. Not where am I. Not even who are you. No, it was ‘you didn’t steal my stuff, did you?’. And to a celestial no less.” Fyrehowl said as she rolled her eyes.
“Hey, she didn’t ask Jalinon for a reward at least.” Toras said.
“Yet… give it time.” The lupinal replied.
“Anyways, be nice when she comes out and make excuses if she wants to go reward hunting.” Nisha said as she broke into a grin once Skalliska walked back out to meet them, complete with all of her equipment.
“Welcome back from the dead ‘hon.” Florian said, “Duke Jalinon said thank you and after we go visit some highups in Eronia he wants us back here for a reward of sorts.”
Perhaps too true to form Skalliska was in a much better mood when they all walked through Rubicon’s portal to Elysium’s first layer where they were greeted by a number of functionaries and escorted to where they could rest for the evening before meeting with the Duke.
Given their own separate rooms, they all prepared for a well deserved and needed rest. With content and warm consciences they all drifted off into sleep, their worries far from their minds and their hearts happy with what they had achieved. And there in the depths of sleep, something stirred and reached out to them from across the space of planes and imparted unto them all a dream, common and simultaneous, cold and malevolent.
All of them stepped into the same dreamscape, all of the companions who had traveled to Elysium together and stopped the rogue lupinal and his Yugoloth conspirators; all of them dreamt the same dream. And at the same time they did, Duke Lucan of Elysium, one of the seven companions of Talisad, awoke in the night with a sense of dread and a feeling that something black that he had felt once in the past had awoken and for a moment stared at him and laughed.
Everything was shrouded in darkness that swirled like ebony mist around three standing figures. Staring at them out of the dream stood Vorkannis the Ebon, the overlord of Carceri, a study in black with only his gleaming reddish-pink eyes standing out from the darkness that seemed almost part and parcel of the archfiend. Behind him stood the red and gold wrapped form of Helekanalaith the Keeper of the Tower Arcane in Gehenna. A third figure in green completed the triad and was wrapped in obscuring shadow, her face indistinct and hidden but for the glint of light upon her fangs. A glowing blue gem hovered in the jeweled hand of the third arcanaloth and another hovered in the open hand of The Ebon.
With a voice like honey touched with poison, wrapped with the warmth of a lover and the cold of a betrayer’s blade, The Ebon spoke to them in mocking triumph.
“Now my puppets I thank you. Know that nothing you do, nothing you create, nothing you aspire to, nothing your souls crave happens but by my will. Nothing you have done, no plans you have spoiled, no blood you have spilt, has been but by my wish and determination. By my will your hands this night are awash in blood and the death screams of Rubicon, my symphony in which you play your own parts. At the breaking of the first light of dawn on Belerian, witness my work and despair.”
"Evil is a mortal entity and not a created one, an eternal entity and not a perishable entity: it existed before the world; it constituted the monstrous, the execrable being who was also to fashion such a hidious world. It will hence exist after the creatures which people this world." - Marquis de Sade
****
Though their first attempt at a heroic rescue was less than expected, they did manage to butcher the remaining Mezzoloths and the Vaath torturer in several brief, blood spattered moments.
“Not fun on the receiving end is it?” Toras shouted out with a nearly gleeful laugh as he jabbed his sword repeatedly into the insectoid native of Carceri.
“Don’t act so happy about it Toras. And… gah! Watch where you send those bug guts flying. Evil bug guts even, ugg.” Nisha said as she gingerly stepped over a pile of the Vaath’s innards.
But, after they had made certain the fiends were dead and no reinforcements were on their way, they gathered around the shackled Nycaloth and looked down at him. Florian whispered a simple prayer and healed most of his wounds so they could speak to him in a lucid state.
“So, who are you and why should we not just kill you like the rest of the fiends here?” Fyrehowl said with her sword at his throat.
“I was second in command to the Ultroloth lord, Barzikonius ak Palin, of the tower here, though he vanished shortly before the traitors overtook us. Filthy traitors to the Oinoloth, they overwhelmed us and kept myself and many of my troops alive only to torture us for their amusement.” The Nycaloth snarled and spat. “My name is Durmage the Blood Winged.”
The group looked at each and then back at the ‘loth.
“Funny… that was the Ultroloth we watched get assassinated a short while back, wasn’t it?” Florian mused.
“You’re right, that was him there in the mercane demiplane. Interesting…” Tristol said.
The ‘loth narrowed its eyes at that information but said nothing for a bit as it pondered the implications. Finally it looked up at them and spoke, “Free me…”
“Excuse me?” Florian asked.
“Free me. You want to stop what is going on here, yes? I know the positions and strength of the traitors here, and my troops are still loyal to me. Release me and they and I will help you finish this here.” Durmage said.
“And how do we know that we can trust you?” Clueless said with skepticism.
“You don’t. But you’ll be butchered three times over if you try to take the tower by yourselves…” A sly glint sparked in the Nycaloth’s eyes.
Fyrehowl narrowed her eyes and Florian snorted softly.
“He’s got a point, as much as I hate to admit it…” Toras said.
“Sadly, yes.” Clueless replied without taking his eyes off the fiend.
The ‘loth rattled the chains impatiently, “Then release me and I will tell you all I know of the forces in the tower, then we wade in their blood as we are meant to do…”
“Why didn’t you just free yourself? You can teleport at will, and none of those chains or anything in this room have any dweomers to suppress that ability or spells like it.” Tristol asked as he surveyed the chamber slowly.
Durmage snarled, “Somehow they stripped me of the ability. I don’t know how except that it failed me and all of my troops just before the thrice-damned followers of Anthraxus assaulted us. I assume it was some magic wielded by their commander, the arcanaloth Parphinnias. He was a potent sorcerer so I assume it was his doing.”
“We can use his help. He’s right about being outnumbered, and he knows the layout of the tower.” Toras said.
“If you’re sure Toras…” Nisha said as she picked the locks on the chains holding the ‘loth to the metal torturer’s slab.
“Normally you’d be right not to trust me, but this concerns family matters, so to speak, and on this issue of loyalty the stakes are higher than any dealings with you all. My word will hold for this.” The Nycaloth said as he stretched his wings.
“You help us, and your former troops help us, and when we take the tower you all leave back to the lower planes immediately. You don’t belong here, and if you don’t agree I’ll have the wrath of Rubicon descend on this tower and raze it to the ground so help me…” Fyrehowl said forcefully as she looked directly at Durmage.
The ‘loth nodded its head and paused before responding, “Agreed. Help me slaughter these traitors and I will do as you ask. This place is unimportant compared to happenings back upon the Waste.”
“Where are your troops?” Skalliska asked.
“Down this current passage and off to the right. There will be a series of cells we kept prisoners in for torture and starvation, and beyond those are where my troops have been held in preparation for their torture and execution one by one.” Durmage said as he picked up the black iron trident of one of the dead Mezzoloths that shimmered with a coating of frost. He swung the weapon several times before smiling at the balance and pointing down the hallway.
Following the winged greater yugoloth they snuck down the passage and into a long, wide corridor lined with cells. The scent of rotting flesh rose from several of the cells, and blood tinged the air with a metallic, cupric scent. Fyrehowl paused and looked into one of the cells with wide eyes.
“They had guardinal prisoners. They had them and Tarnsilver did nothing to stop it?!” She snarled in disbelief and rage as she glared at the Nycaloth.
“He was blissfully unaware of this little portion of what we did here. He knew the main details of it all, both under Barzikonius and under the traitors who came after. He was spared the fine and more bloody details so as not to trouble him and induce any unsightly episodes of a haunted conscience.” Durmage said with a shrug as he walked onwards, “Free them if you wish but I have my own troops to collect at the end of the hall.”
“Hell no, you’re staying right here where we can see you.” Florian said as he looked to the Nycaloth.
“As you wish, but if you wait too long before joining with my troops the tower’s defenders will have ample time to prepare themselves.” Durmage said impatiently as he pointed down the hallway. “Don’t waste your time with these fools. They will only slow us down.”
“You can wait.” Fyrehowl said angrily as she opened the cell door and stepped inside.
The cell’s interior was dark and coated in filth and blood. Two figures lay against the walls, chained down and unmoving. One of them, an ursinal, was covered in blood and half-healed wounds; he seemed to have been there for a prolonged period and showed signs of starvation. The other, a cervidal, was covered in the welts and scars that belayed a severe flogging, though he showed no signs of starvation like the other.
The cervidal looked up with weary, bloodshot eyes, “Please… no more. We…” His eyes darted from the Nycaloth and to Fyrehowl and then the others, a single spark of hope lighting in their depths.
Fyrehowl motioned Nisha over to pick the locks on their chains as she knelt down next to the prisoners. “You’re safe, and we’re going to free you before we see to the fiends here. What happened?”
“My name is Artrus, Artrus Willowminder. I was on the mainland near the marshes that the Quesars first arose from when the fiends found me and captured me. I didn’t expect it and I wasn’t armed… why would I need to be? They took me here perhaps a week ago and they’ve been torturing me since then. I haven’t eaten in days.” The cervidal said before nodding his chin towards the semi-conscious ursinal. “His name is Tyburnis, but I haven’t been able to talk to him much…”
Fyrehowl looked on with concern as Artrus trailed off. “How long has he been here?”
“I can’t say for sure, but much longer than I have. He mentioned that shortly after he was brought here that there was some sort of revolt among the fiends here between two camps. He also mentioned that he’d been questioned by an Ultroloth… he whispered that in his dreams before waking up screaming…” Artrus said as Nisha finished picking the locks on his shackles. He rubbed at his sore and bleeding wrists with relief as they slid off and fell to the ground.
“The Ultroloth was my commander. The Arcanaloth Parphinnias was likely responsible for what you saw as a prelude to his actions here… the filthy Anthraxus kisser…” Durmage whispered harshly from behind the party.
Fyrehowl glanced back at the fiend, “What did you do to Tyburnis?”
The ‘loth sneered, “You wouldn’t want me to go into the details Elysian… he’s alive though, so be happy. The others he was with aren’t, nor a dozen others we had found and couldn’t allow escaping with knowledge of this place.”
Fyrehowl gritted her teeth together as she motioned Florian inside the cell to heal the wounded and tortured celestials. The ursinal regained his senses after several whispered prayers by the cleric and staggered to his feet with the same spark of hope in his eyes that Artrus had in his. “Powers of good bless you all…” he said, though his words trailed when he saw the Nycaloth. Something unspoken passed between them then and the ursinal looked away as the ‘loth bared its fangs and licked along their length.
Fyrehowl glared at the fiend as they all exited the cell, moving slowly to support the ragged and battered guardinals they had rescued. The followed behind the yugoloth another forty paces before entering another cellblock with a fourteen or more cells, each of them holding two to three black-shelled Mezzoloths. At the sight of Durmage they all rose to their feet and the air nearly hummed with the telepathic cries of the fiends.
“I am free and we will paint the walls with the entrails of the fallen one’s followers. Those with me fight alongside us, and I have pledged their safety.” He looked back to the newly free guardinals, “Even our former friends here. You remember them I’m sure…”
Unlocking the cells took several minutes with the Mezzoloths clacking their jaws and leering at Skalliska and Nisha as they popped the locks. Afterwards the lesser yugoloths arranged themselves into a tight formation behind the Nycaloth and began marching out of the chamber.
“Umm… just where are you going? The stairs to the upper layers are down that other hallway…” Toras asked as the fiends marched.
“Before we go up towards the ground layer of the tower we have one thing to do down here. The hydroloth pool is likely to be occupied and I don’t want to fight troops behind us. After killing however many are there we take the basement above us and equip ourselves from the weapons stores there, then up to the ground layer.”
True to his word he led them to a waterlogged chamber where the Mezzoloths charged and overwhelmed a trio of frog-like hydroloths, butchering them without quarter. Durmage smiled throughout the event and continued to do so as he led them all back out to the base of a wide, metallic set of stairs.
Whispering as he pointed up, “The armory is likely to be guarded, and after we take it, the main garrison will be raised and quickly upon us. They outnumber us two to one, but they only have one true spellcaster, the arcanaloth, and with you all we have several. On my order we go up.”
There were nods all around and the Mezzoloths said nothing but simply obeyed without question, as was their lot in life for their caste of yugoloth. Clueless and Fyrehowl glanced at the Nycaloth though with minor disapproval.
“Don’t act too in charge here. We can always take our chances without you.” The bladesinger said.
“Whatever you say my liege…” Durmage said as he motioned his troops into action and burst up the stairs with a single flap of his wings.
The others charged up behind the fiends into the sounds of battle and claws on chitin. The sounds ended quickly and three Mezzoloths of the opposite camp lay dead and mangled on the floor as those loyal to Durmage grabbed tridents, spears and pikes as the sounds of insectoid feet on steel and stone echoed out from above moments before an alarm rang out.
“Be ready, they know we’re here…” The Nycaloth said before screaming out orders to his troops and once again launching himself upwards.
They met the tower’s defenders at the main level when they emerged from the stairwell. True to the nycaloth’s prediction they faced more than double, possibly triple the number of Mezzoloths that they claimed to their side, along with several other sub-species of lesser yugoloth ranging from Dergholoth to Piscaloth.
The Mezzoloths crashed into each other like frenzied waves, but seconds later they were struck from behind by spells and from the front as Fyrehowl and Toras charged into the fray. Momentarily the opposing fiends were stunned and uncertain since they hadn’t any clue as to the identity and capability of their unknown assailants, and in that moment the tide of battle began a slow slide against them.
Screaming out praises to the Oinoloth, the Nycaloth Durmage was a terror to behold as he physically picked up one of the opposing Mezzoloths and snapped it in half bodily like a dry twig. Even Toras, who was in the process of hacking a Piscaloth to death, seemed impressed.
But as favorable as things seemed in that moment as they pressed their way up the staircase towards the second level of the tower, pressing the defending ‘loths back with ferocity, things swung back towards a stalemate as several things happened. First a bolt of lightning launched down the stairs and struck amongst the lines of both groups and twin globes of darkness landed atop of two Mezzoloths aligned under Durmage’s command. A pair of Nycaloths swooping down from above and wading into the battle followed the globes of darkness with howls of rage and screams demanding blood and retribution.
“How good to see you again Forcalt, Rezzivus… traitors…” Durmage said as he glared at the two newly arrived ‘loths as they advanced upon him.
Forcalt was struck by a blast of flame from Clueless and Florian assailed his partner a moment later. The former recovered quickly and appeared largely unharmed, and Florian was sent sprawled back down the stairs with a single smashing blow from the glistening, blurred greatsword that Rezzivus held in his hands.
The three Nycaloths hurled themselves at each other and Clueless dove into the combat as well, his wings a blurr of obsidian as he parried the greataxe wielded by the Forcalt. Those four battled furiously as below them, Fyrehowl, Florian and Toras were busy carving up the garrison of mezzoloths. And then a second bolt of lightning snarled amongst the ranks of their own Mezzoloths and felled several of them at once.
“What the hell?” Nisha said as she looked up at the source of the lightning and watched a small fleshy orb with multiple eyestalks and a central eye snarl and hover at the edge of the stairs.
Nisha pointed at the eyeball beholder-kin and shouted out to Tristol. The aasimar nodded and a moment later a fireball detonated at the stairwell and the familiar screamed as it darted back up and out of sight.
“The arcanaloth is probably watching this all through his familiar, and it looks like he can target spells and cast them through it as well…” Tristol said as he ducked a thrown trident that clattered against the tower wall.
The fighting continued and soon Toras managed to work his way up to aid Clueless and Durmage against the other two Nycaloths who were both more massive then either of their opponents, and seemingly better armored. At three against two the odds swung against the Anthraxus supporters and they both took blow after blow. Finally, with a series of strikes from Toras, one of them collapsed and fell to the landing some twenty feet below with a sickening crunch where the battle was almost over with only a handful of Mezzoloths alive on both sides. A split second later a fireball from above killed most of those few left alive.
“Oh damnit, you don’t give up do you?” Tristol said as he hurled a fireball back up towards where the beholder-kin familiar was taking potshots. Skalliska however signed, loaded her crossbow and darted upwards in chase.
Ducking down and running as fast as she could, Skalliska bolted up the stairs with hardly a look backwards. Hiding as best she could and pausing but briefly at each of the three landings she passed to look for the familiar, she emerged at the top level of the tower which was composed of a single room.
Skalliska had her crossbow drawn as she emerged into the room to see two figures, one of them who had just appeared in the room with the bright flash of light of a teleport. Rezzivus the Nycaloth, his fellow Nycaloth dead three stories below, knelt on the ground, badly wounded and bleeding. Standing above him with a look of disdain was a black robed Arcanaloth and hovering over the sorcerer’s shoulder was a tiny eyeball beholder-kin.
“My lord Parphinnias, the battle goes poorly and Forcalt is dead. They have several spellcasters on their side and we have none. Please, you have to help us or the tower will be lost.” The Nycaloth said as it looked up at its sneering, jackal-headed superior.
And then Skalliska snickered, “Wimp…”
The last thing the kobold saw was the eyeball beholder-kin swivel a half-dozen eyes in her direction, followed by Parphinnias calmly extending a hand towards her and whispering a single word. The green flash that erupted from his hand left only a pile of ash scattered amongst her belongings.
Down below, the battle was over and piles of fiendish corpses were in the slow process of erupting into flame, dissolving into pools of acidic liquid, or simply crumbling to foul-smelling ashes. Of the Mydianchlarus loyal fiends, only the Nycaloth was still alive and he was badly injured with one of his wings hanging uselessly to one side, limp.
“The arcanaloth is still alive and we must hurry or he may flee, the coward…make certain to kill the slasraths tethered to the mounts two levels up or he may attempt to take one of them and run.” Durmage said as he breathed heavily and climbed the stairs.
Following him the others went, stopping only briefly two levels up to do as he suggested. Then, having butchered the tethered flyers without hesitation, they charged up the stairs into the single chamber that filled the highest floor of the tower. None of them noticed the dusty pile of ashes and Skalliska’s belongings as the burst into the room.
“Wait a minute, there isn’t anyone…” Nisha said a moment before Fyrehowl dove for cover and another moment before a fireball detonated atop of them.
Fading into view was the current lord of the tower, the arcanaloth Parphinnias. A curl of smoke rose from his still outstretched hand as he stood some twenty paces from the group. Behind him hovered his eye-studded familiar that snarled in proxy for its chuckling master.
The arcanaloth’s subsequent words were silenced by a roaring column of flame invoked by Florian. When the swirling pyre of divine flame vanished, there was nothing left but a charred stain upon the floor.
“Feel victorious oh bold heroes, you have managed to valiantly butcher an illusion and I congratulate you heartily. Shall we try this once more perhaps?” The ‘loth said from a position across the room as he raised his hand.
Looking back at a howl of rage from the Nycaloth Durmage, the group noticed that the arcanaloth had encased the other fiend in a spherical shell of force, effectively removing it from the battle.
Tristol however, didn’t look, but rather he managed to cast first before the arcanaloth completed a second spell, and hurled a gleaming, fiery bead streaking towards the fiend.
“Oh, very amusing little mageling.” The arcanaloth said with a snicker as Tristol’s fireball was snuffed as soon as it entered within a twenty-foot boundary from him. “Shall I teach you some real magic now?”
With a whispered word, a column of nine burning beams of light shot out from the arcanaloth’s hand blasting his startled opponents with bursts of flame, lightning, ice, and even more exotic effects that left them hurt, and in Nisha’s case staggering and drooling.
Recovering from the prismatic spray, the group charged the fiend with their weapons drawn or hurled spells at it. A crackling bolt of lightning arced from the fiend to snarl around every member of the group but Toras managed to strike a heavy blow as he seemed to be unaffected by the electricity that had left the others stunned and badly wounded.
The fighter’s blow cleaved the fiend nearly in half, but then something strange happened. Rather than spurting blood, the dead fiend dissolved into frost and sparks of magic as a telepathic laugh echoed through Toras’s head.
“Idiot… once fooled shame on you, fooled twice… haha…how do you kill something my friend if you cannot find it?”
Another fireball erupted near the center of the party as they realized that the fiend was both still alive and still within the room.
“Damnit! He was using a simulacrum!” Tristol shouted as he tried to think of a useful spell to locate the fiend.
“He’s somewhere on that side of the room,” Florian said, pointing, as he concentrated and felt the fiend’s presence like smelling a pile of rotting meat in a darkened room, it was evident and unmistakable.
Tristol hurled a cone of cold towards the section of the room where Florian had indicated, only to have the fiend counterspell it with seeming ease. And once more came its mocking voice flitting through their minds.
“Is this all that Rubicon sent? Surely they could have done better. And what will then do when you fail to return? A pity about it I’m sure…”
The fiend’s taunts were cut off sharply as his invisible form was outlined in a halo of flickering purple and blue faerie fire. As his form became visible he was instantly the target of spells from both Tristol and Florian, as well as a wave of ice from Fyrehowl’s outstretched hand. All three incantations struck with heavy effects, both the lupinals cone of cold, Tristol’s enervation, and Florian’s flamestrike. The arcanaloth shrieked in pain, and a second time as the body of his familiar drifted into visibility at his outlined form’s feet.
Badly wounded and his familiar dead, the arcanaloth floated backwards and seemed to concentrate on something before looking perplexed and frustrated. A second time he concentrated on the same thing and a second time whatever it was, it failed him utterly. A look of panic crossed his features before Florian called down a second flamestrike on him where he stood. As he died and was consumed by the holy flames, Parphinnias could only wonder why his teleportation ability had failed him utterly in those last moments.
The group stood clustered around the charred remains of the arcanaloth and they smiled in relief despite their hellish wounds. A moment later the first eight inches of Clueless’s sword burst out of Durmage’s chest and the Nycaloth collapsed dead to the ground.
All eyes focused on Clueless as the Nycaloth shuddered and began to smoulder and turn to acidic ash as it dissolved in death. Clueless flicked his sword clean in a casual yet business-like manner.
“What the hell was that for?!” Fyrehowl shouted to the bladesinger. “We gave him our word that once he helped us he could leave back to his home plane, anywhere but here on Elysium. Why?!”
“He knew too much. He heard us mention seeing that Ultroloth Barzikonius get assassinated, and that alone is enough. That doesn’t need to spread or else it might come back to haunt us more than it likely will. I wasn’t going to risk it and it’s too late now.”
“Well hells, that’s the last of them then unless we want to make one quick check through the tower for anything that’s possibly left behind.” Toras said as Nisha was bent over the charred remains of the arcanaloth and happily picking through the burning remnants for his possessions.
“We’ve secretly replaced Skalliska with ashes today, let’s see if Nisha notices the difference!” The tiefling said to noone in particular as she grabbed things and stuffed them into her satchel. “Nisha pilfers and there’s no objections from the kobold, and all is good and fine in the world. Somewhere Skalliska is angry at being left out of the grabbing and looting, but she does nothing except perhaps to billow angrily.”
Tristol chuckled and patted Nisha on the head as he casually picked up a thick spellbook from the arcanaloth’s shelves. The book was bound in some manner of hide, but by any guess it wasn’t standard leather; it was far too supple for that. Additionally, Tristol took a quill-pen that stood next to the book within a wall-mounted fountain of blood that was magically kept warm and liquid. One look at the pen and its magical nature, as well as the fact that it appeared to have been carved from Avoral bone, and Tristol had it slipped inside his robes and away from Fyrehowl’s gaze.
The rest of the sorcerous fiend’s possessions were gathered together to sort out later, though Clueless took the fiend’s crystal ball that had sat on a pedestal next to the shelves that had held its spellbook. The scrying ball was a deep, blood red color with occlusions of black and lighter shades of red swirling through its interior. Oddly there was no objection to the bladesinger taking it since Tristol already had a crystal ball of his own, Florian wanted little to do with the fiend created item, and Skalliska wasn’t in a position to object.
Most of the fiends’ chambers were starkly furnished with the exception of the arcanaloth’s chamber they had already picked clean. Two rooms were different, one immediately below the top of the tower that was sealed, and the room that had served to house Tarnsilver.
The fallen lupinal’s room was simple and humble, despite his fallibility and mad ambitions in the end. The walls were decorated with several hangings of the symbol of the Transcendent Order and scenes from the three other layers of Elysium. The group let Fyrehowl enter and spend some quiet time in reflection alone while they left her and examined the sealed chamber.
“Hmm, looks like it’s mage locked and that the arcanaloth warded it as well. Give me a minute here…” Tristol said before he dispelled the magic bound to the door.
“What’s the symbol on the door?” Florian asked.
“A personal sigil, I’d guessing the symbol of the Ultroloth who was in charge of the tower before the other group of ‘loths took over. Though why they felt it wise to lock and ward it, I can’t say.” Tristol said as he swung the door open tentatively.
“And that might be why…” Toras said as they peered into the chamber.
The room was empty except for a single table in the center of the room atop which sat a complex device of iron and crystal within which was cradled a brilliantly glowing white sphere.
“Tristol? What the heck is that?” Nisha asked from behind the mage.
“… let go of my tail and I’ll tell you…” The wizard said.
“Sorry…”
“Whatever it is it’s covered in abjuration magic.” Tristol commented.
“And it’s radiating good…” Florian said as he moved into the room to look at the glowing sphere within the larger contraption.
Following the cleric’s lead the others approached and looked into the glowing sphere as well. Inside the light wasn’t steady, but moved slightly and seemed almost alive.
“Oh they didn’t…” Toras said as he reached out to take hold of the sphere.
“Didn’t what?” Nisha asked.
“The other natives of Belarian, the Quesar, beings of light. One of them is trapped inside this thing. They probably found it and the Ultroloth has had it bottled up since then and the arcanaloth either didn’t know how the device worked, or what it was, but in any event he felt the good of what was inside it and was afraid to muck around with it.” The fighter said as he looked into the interior of the sphere.
And with that he crushed the crystalline globe and released the being trapped inside. A flash of brilliant light filled the chamber with an intensity that made them all squint to avoid hurting their eyes, and then it was gone with a whisper on the air of “Thank you…” as the celestial darted from the chamber and out into the plane at large without the tower’s walls serving as a barrier in the least.
“Well another good deed for the day then, we’ll have to mark it on our list.” Nisha said with a grin.
“Might make up for Clueless backstabbing that ‘loth. Sorry there, but that really set me on edge what you did back there.” Florian said with a shrug. Clueless ignored it and they continued on.
Collecting Fyrehowl they made one further check of the tower and found little else besides a journal of sorts that the arcanaloth had been keeping to chronicle his time in the tower and their goals. Reading through it, the material confirmed Tarnsilver’s statements about his and the ‘loths’ goals for the Mother of Serpents, but it also went into details that had been kept hidden from the lupinal. Tarnsilver hadn’t been aware just how many guardinals had been captured, tortured and finally killed in the depths of the tower, nor had he been fully aware of the shipments of mortals and mortal souls to the tower to serve as food and playthings for the fiend. Most of the grisly details had been kept out of the lupinal’s view. However neither did the material suggest any larger involvement than they had already found. The book and their story would follow them back to Rubicon when they presented their findings to Duke Jalinon.
Hours later, the tower left far behind them, they approached the shores of Belarian at the delta of the river Oceanus and bay within which the fortress of Rubicon sat proudly. Triumphant and with the two rescued guardinals in tow, they landed and entered the fortress.
Inside, they were granted audience with Duke Jalinon and explained to the guardinal lord what they had found on the mainland, the apparent schemes of the ‘loths, the collusion of the fallen lupinal Tarnsilver, and how they had cleaned the tower of its fiendish inhabitants. The two rescued guardinals both added their own tales and backed up the group’s own claims while praising them for their rescue.
“I am proud of you all, especially you Fyrehowl. I can ask little of you all now, and I owe you a boon. You have earned rest though for the moment. I would have you all visit Eronia and give your findings there to Duke Windheir the Avoral Lord, then return to me and I will give you a gift to repay my debt to you, and that of all of us here. Your companion Skalliska will be brought back to you shortly and then you will be shown to a portal.” Jalinon said with pride and thanks.
Elsewhere, some time later, Skalliska awoke from oblivion and looked up into the eyes of a smiling ursinal clad in the brown and blue robes of a cleric of Celestian, a neutral good power of planewalkers. “Welcome back to us, your companions are waiting for you outside. And may I express my thanks for what you and they have done, it is appreciated deeply.”
Skalliska looked down at her self and then back up to the guardinal cleric, “Where’s all the stuff I had on me? You didn’t steal any of it did you?”
Out in the hallway, Nisha smacked her forehead with her hand and sighed. “We need to put her together with a grumpy dwarf, a feminine male elf, and a stupid half-orc and we’ll have the party of stereotypes.”
“She’s not exactly breaking the mold of her people.” Clueless replied.
“She asked if the ursinal that raised her from the dead had stolen her stuff. Not thank you for bringing me back to life. Not where am I. Not even who are you. No, it was ‘you didn’t steal my stuff, did you?’. And to a celestial no less.” Fyrehowl said as she rolled her eyes.
“Hey, she didn’t ask Jalinon for a reward at least.” Toras said.
“Yet… give it time.” The lupinal replied.
“Anyways, be nice when she comes out and make excuses if she wants to go reward hunting.” Nisha said as she broke into a grin once Skalliska walked back out to meet them, complete with all of her equipment.
“Welcome back from the dead ‘hon.” Florian said, “Duke Jalinon said thank you and after we go visit some highups in Eronia he wants us back here for a reward of sorts.”
Perhaps too true to form Skalliska was in a much better mood when they all walked through Rubicon’s portal to Elysium’s first layer where they were greeted by a number of functionaries and escorted to where they could rest for the evening before meeting with the Duke.
Given their own separate rooms, they all prepared for a well deserved and needed rest. With content and warm consciences they all drifted off into sleep, their worries far from their minds and their hearts happy with what they had achieved. And there in the depths of sleep, something stirred and reached out to them from across the space of planes and imparted unto them all a dream, common and simultaneous, cold and malevolent.
All of them stepped into the same dreamscape, all of the companions who had traveled to Elysium together and stopped the rogue lupinal and his Yugoloth conspirators; all of them dreamt the same dream. And at the same time they did, Duke Lucan of Elysium, one of the seven companions of Talisad, awoke in the night with a sense of dread and a feeling that something black that he had felt once in the past had awoken and for a moment stared at him and laughed.
Everything was shrouded in darkness that swirled like ebony mist around three standing figures. Staring at them out of the dream stood Vorkannis the Ebon, the overlord of Carceri, a study in black with only his gleaming reddish-pink eyes standing out from the darkness that seemed almost part and parcel of the archfiend. Behind him stood the red and gold wrapped form of Helekanalaith the Keeper of the Tower Arcane in Gehenna. A third figure in green completed the triad and was wrapped in obscuring shadow, her face indistinct and hidden but for the glint of light upon her fangs. A glowing blue gem hovered in the jeweled hand of the third arcanaloth and another hovered in the open hand of The Ebon.
With a voice like honey touched with poison, wrapped with the warmth of a lover and the cold of a betrayer’s blade, The Ebon spoke to them in mocking triumph.
“Now my puppets I thank you. Know that nothing you do, nothing you create, nothing you aspire to, nothing your souls crave happens but by my will. Nothing you have done, no plans you have spoiled, no blood you have spilt, has been but by my wish and determination. By my will your hands this night are awash in blood and the death screams of Rubicon, my symphony in which you play your own parts. At the breaking of the first light of dawn on Belerian, witness my work and despair.”
****
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Shemeska
Adventurer
Ashy said:A message from back on page 9, where I am quickly catching up to the present... I've just got to say that I LOVE Nisha - she makes me laugh out loud constantly!!!!! Great, great job on her, Shemeska!
Nisha is a bit of a balancing tool in some ways to let me lighten the campaign at times since overall it gets progressively darker and more fatalistic in many ways over time. So you've got the wacky, nutty CG Xaositect to balance out the 'loths and all the other lower planar critters that show up.
Thanks for the praise. Enjoy her while she's there.
Clueless
Webmonkey
A minor scene skipped at the Duke's palace as we all settled down for the night:
Clueless knocked on Tristol's door - his new 'favorite' food arrayed on a platter before him. The mage opened the door and yelped as a green and jiggling cube launched at his face. In fleeing the 'gelationous cube', the mage fell backwards swiping with his staff. The 'cube' disintegrated to the laughter of the fey at the door. Clueless ducked for cover, wings flickering blue-green, as he snickered. Tristol stood up, the fur on his tail fluffed out in all directions, covered in jello.
Clueless knocked on Tristol's door - his new 'favorite' food arrayed on a platter before him. The mage opened the door and yelped as a green and jiggling cube launched at his face. In fleeing the 'gelationous cube', the mage fell backwards swiping with his staff. The 'cube' disintegrated to the laughter of the fey at the door. Clueless ducked for cover, wings flickering blue-green, as he snickered. Tristol stood up, the fur on his tail fluffed out in all directions, covered in jello.
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