Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)

[shilsen]

This is such teasing. The story is getting really really cool and yet I know that a TPK is waiting to rear it's ugly little head.

muzza ruzza fuzza D1ck Dastardly....

Nah! You know my DMing philosophy already - killing PCs is the kindest thing you can do to them since then they stop suffering.

That said, two of our last four sessions came very close to a TPK (the fight with Emrena, which you already read about, and another which should show up in two writeups or so), and the PCs are dealing with stronger and deadlier enemies on a regular basis now, so one could easily happen sometime. What would happen then depends on how, why and where the TPK occurs. Suffice to say I have a couple of possibilities in mind already for an aftermath

oh P.S. Shil - good stuff

Thanks. Since I'm on break now, I should hopefully be updating more regularly than I have been recently. We're not actually playing till the first weekend of Jan, but I've got enough material remaining for at least 4 updates.

 

[Vorput]

Korm chuckles. “She didn’t join us after dinner, remember? She’s probably all over Ryger instead.”

“By the Flame! That’s not a visual I needed!”

and

Though the vampire’s face doesn’t change, there is clearly surprise in the voice speaking through him. “Xoriat?”

“Yes, Xoriat, the Realm of Madness, which has been separated from…”

“Yes,” says the Lady, with a trace of impatience, “I know what Xoriat is.

had me laughing for quite awhile. Fun update.

 

[shilsen]

...

had me laughing for quite awhile. Fun update.

Most of the funny material is actually stuff which happens at the table, though sometimes I take out-of-character dialogue and make it work for the PC(s). I think the laughing helps them deal with the insanity.

And here's the next bit (in two parts, since the forum won't let me post it in one):

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, when the Angels gather in their living room, Gareth brings in a copy of the Korranberg Chronicle. “My advertisement asking for adventurers to contact us is out,” he says, flipping it open to the page. “Let’s see how many responses we get. But there’s something else that’s interesting. Look at this.” On the opposite page to their advertisement is an article discussing the situation in Q’barra, where rumors say the lizardfolk threat is not yet over. A large contingent of Riedran troops have arrived in the country and are providing support to the local military.

“Hmm – I wonder if we should visit and take out another army for them,” muses Nameless. “That was good exercise.”

“For you,” says Gareth. “Six and I almost got killed. Speaking of which, where’s Six?”

“Downstairs,” says Korm. “He said he’ll be here shortly. There’s another warforged here to meet him.” Korm grins. “A very … pretty warforged.”

At that moment, the warforged Korm mentioned is sitting across from Six, and if not pretty, he is certainly colorful. His form is almost completely covered in gaudy clothing which seems more appropriate to the theaters and restaurants of Menthis Plateau. He even wears gloves and large boots, so only his metal face shows that he’s a warforged, and even that is partly hidden beneath a plumed hat. Even the backpack which sits by his side and the lute resting against it are on the garish side. It is impossible to deny that he lives up to his name.

“Well, Dandy,” says Six, “It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard of you before, and I had wondered if I’d see you at the Tain Gala. You have played there, right?”

“Yes. Twice. Being the only warforged bard in Sharn and a member of the Circle of Song has some significant advantages. Not that I’m the most famous warforged in Sharn, of course.” He laughs, emphasizing the almost-human quality of his voice, even though it retains some of the original metallic timbre.

“So Smith sent you here?”

“Yes. He said you wished to talk to one of the reforged. There are only a few of us here, but I fancy more will take up the philosophy. Time will tell.”

Six spends a little time discussing things with the bard, who he quickly finds to be very garrulous. Especially on the subject of warforged manufacture. When Six brings it up, Dandy’s voice drops and he looks around suspiciously, before whispering, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m quite convinced that House Cannith is making warforged in the Cogs.”

Just as I thought. “Really? Can you prove it?”

Dandy is still warforged enough to be unable to crack an expression, but his shoulders droop slightly. “Unfortunately, not yet. And nobody will believe me, not even Smith. But I have seen warforged at the Red Hammer whom I have never seen in Sharn before, and who seem,” Dandy waves in a vague manner, “Somehow ‘new.’ Personally, I think Blue and Crucible are in cahoots with Cannith.”


“Interesting. Tell me, have any of these new warforged, or any of the reforged, ever developed a dragonmark?”

The question seems to catch Dandy off-guard. “Huh? A warforged with a dragonmark? Now that’s something I’ve never heard of! But it would certainly be very exciting if it happened! Do you know of one?”

“No. I was simply interested in whether it has ever happened or could happen.”

Six spends a little more time talking to Dandy and then bids the talkative bard goodbye, promising to speak to him again at some point later. Having seen him out, Six heads upstairs to rejoin his companions.

Once he is there, Nameless uses an antimagic field to nullify Mordain’s programmed amnesia. The changes, though temporary, are drastic. When in the field, all the emotional responses to Mordain as a kindly, benevolent figure instantly disappear, and the memories of what really happened during the visit return. The moment when Gareth had refused to let Mordain take a sample from him is the point from which the fake memories took over. In reality, Mordain attacked instantly. He was incredibly fast, and though expecting trouble, all of the Angels except Six were too slow to respond. Six attempted to trip him but missed. Mordain’s opening attack was a burst of energy from his body, which Nameless identifies as a greater fireburst, but modified to do cold damage, exceedingly strong and designed to knock out rather than kill. Korm, Gareth and Nameless went down immediately, leaving only Six – who had barely dodged the effect – and Luna, who had managed to absorb the damage and remain on her feet. Mordain promptly struck Luna with a quickened orb of sonic energy and took her out. Six was able to make a series of attacks and actually wounded him slightly, though he seemed resistant to the material of the warforged’s chain, before Mordain used a power word to stun him and blasted him into unconsciousness before he could recover.

The following memories are even more disquieting, consisting mostly of myriad periods of anywhere from a few moments to over an hour when some of the Angels were awake while Mordain was working on them. They remember the Fleshweaver talking politely and dispassionately while slicing their bodies apart and putting them back together. During most of these times, the four spellcasters had their tongues and hands missing so that they should be unable to cast spells, and there were certain objects implanted in them which apparently further prevented any use of individual powers. Each of the Angels also has a specific memory of Mordain extracting what seemed to be part of their brain and brain stem (even Six, who doesn’t really have those things) and placing it in a small vat for what he called incubation purposes. At the time, each of them was in a larger vat, the fluid in which evidently had powerful regenerative properties, since it regrew parts of them (even of Six’s metal and wood superstructure) even as Mordain removed them.

Expectedly, some of the memories of these events are significantly blurry, due to the amount of pain the subject was in at the time. Each of the Angels does, however, remember that during the course of the various procedures Mordain explained that all this was not just for his own research, though they had helped immensely there and were also providing an opportunity to field-test certain ideas of his. The changes were to ensure that they were going to be strong enough to survive and deal with the various things they would surely encounter in the future due to the seed in Nameless’ chest. He also made sure to explain to every one of them that when their memories return, as he’s certain they will at some point, they think long and hard before doing something as foolish as to seek revenge. “Remember,” Mordain said, “I gave you these enhancements. I know how to dispel them – instantly and permanently.”

One more interesting thing that the recurrence of the real memories indicates is that Mordain did a certain amount of emotional/personality manipulation too. The most obvious aspect is that he made all of the Angels significantly more amenable to accepting drastic changes to them, such as the kind he performed, than they would have been otherwise. Korm, for example, recalls a time when he would have been absolutely horrified at the idea of embodying aspects of different aberrations. But even with the memories temporarily restored, each of them finds that it is difficult to lose the effect, since it has become almost second nature by now. The same applies to the modifications he apparently performed on them individually, usually raising some sort of emotional quality in them – pride in Gareth, curiosity in Nameless, recklessness in Korm, caution in Six, and anger in Luna. And why he did so is unknown, since none of them recalls Mordain explaining the reason.

Nameless’ spell eventually ends less than a minute and a half later, though it feels much longer to the Angels, and as the programmed amnesia snaps back into place, they have the strange situation of knowing exactly what Mordain did to them but no longer possessing the actual memories of him doing so. And despite the knowledge of the physical and mental manipulation, the emotional response to the Fleshweaver still remains.

“Excellent!” says Nameless dryly. “I know what the bastard did to us and I still feel like he’s our ‘nicest, bestest friend in all the world.’”

“Yeah,” snarls Luna, “But that doesn’t change the fact that we know what he did. Or that I’m going to visit him and drop an earthquake on his bloody lab, as soon as I learn how!”

Gareth looks at the others, the same anger as in Luna’s voice in his eyes, “We return to him, in an antimagic field, and then we kill him. No questions – just kill him. He is a mage, and without his spells he is weaker then that lich Emrena was.”

“I’m not that sure,” says Korm pessimistically, “But yeah – I’d like to deal with him at some point too.”

Six points out, “We do have more important things to deal with right now. Revenge can always wait. And…”

At this point, there’s a knock on the door. Nameless walks over to it, saying, “That better not be another ‘end of the world’ scenario. What is the plural of apocalypse, anyway?”

When he opens it, Fett is waiting outside, a small frown on his face. The sound of multiple voices floats up the stairs behind him. “You guys need to come down. I think you’re being evicted.”

“WHAT?!”

Nameless puts a hand to his head. “Luna, don’t kill anybody. Please. At least not yet. Let’s find out what’s going on.”

The Angels follow Fett down the stairs, while the changeling explains that a large number of people have arrived to speak with them. This group is waiting in the meeting hall, led by Balan and a dour-looking dwarf carrying a shield which is actually taller than him. His heavy armor bears the symbols of Breland and Sharn, and the Angels recognize him as Kestran Dal, second in command in the Guardians of the Gate, who had been very insistent that Nameless be arrested when the alienist had been framed for Arrok’s murder. With them are four individuals wearing uniforms that match Kestran’s, and six soldiers in Deneith livery. All are well armed and armored, except for Balan.

As the Angels descend the stairs and can see the house’s entrance, they realize more visitors are present. Lounging in the doorway and speaking to the warforged guards is a tall shifter carrying a longbow. Five more people stand behind her, four in breastplates and one without armor. All six of them wear hooded crimson cloaks – all magical, Nameless notes – bearing two badges, the seal of the Brelish crown on the left collar and an image of a snarling displacer beast surrounded by the words “First in Battle, Last to Fall.” The emblem, as some of the Angels know, is that of the Redcloaks, one of the most famous and elite of Brelish battalions to have fought in the Last War, half of which is now assigned to Sharn. And with that information, it seems clear that the woman in the doorway is Meira the Huntress, about whose wartime exploits bards still sing songs, second in command to the battalion head, Khandan the Hammer.

Looks like someone’s expecting trouble. “Hello, Balan,” says Nameless, as pleasantly as he can, “Nice to see you again.” Kestran scowls at the alienist’s harsh tone and says loudly, “We are here on behalf of the city to…,” but Balan smoothly cuts him off. “Hello, Nameless. Sadly, I come with bad news. In view of recent events, specifically the attack on your home and your subsequent attack on the House of Hazal, there is going to be an investigation. During that time, for the safety of the neighborhood, you have been asked to leave Upper Tavick’s Landing.” Kestran adds loudly, “And you’ll get out quietly, if you know what’s good for you!”

Balan continues to speak as if the dwarf had never opened his mouth. “Unfortunately, you’re required to leave the district forthwith.” Kestran again adds, “Or be arrested. Your choice!” The dwarf looks around belligerently, as if expecting a fight. The men with him, both the members of the Guardians of the Gate and the Deneith warriors, look much less enthused about the prospect of violence. Least of all Balan, who sighs and says, “This isn’t strictly my affair, but since the events involved magic it falls somewhat under my jurisdiction, and I came along to make sure nothing goes wrong.” His eyes flicker for a second to Luna and back again.

Nameless, who’s been half focusing on her too, nods. “I understand.” At which point, Luna, who has quickly grown too incandescent with rage to speak thus far, snarls, “Oh yeah! You bastards want to take our house? I’m going to ki…,” at which point Korm claps a hand over her mouth and starts whispering violently into her ear.

Kestran promptly starts saying, “She threatened us! I demand tha…,” before Balan rounds on him. “I’ll handle this!” snaps the Warden. “Now I’m going to talk to the Angels separately. And you can all wait here. Understood?” His expression brooks no argument and Kestran sulkily acquiesces.

Balan hurriedly leads the Angels into the nearest room, shuts the door and starts speaking hurriedly. “Listen – I know this is b*llshit! But you guys have to go along with it. Only temporarily, of course.”

“Can you just explain what exactly is going on?” asks Gareth with a scowl. “I’m not the greatest expert on the Galifar Code, but this seems highly irregular.”

Balan grimaces, “It is. But Upper Tavick’s has its own laws. There are a lot of people here – a lot of rich people – who have been unhappy about you being here. Remember, normally you’d never have got this place, since you need a petition signed by thirty local householders to buy property in Upper Tavick’s. You only got the place because it was being held by the Watch and the Citadel due to the Emerald Claw operation here and because Talleon pulled some strings. Some of the people in the area weren’t happy about that. With the attacks that just happened, a bunch of them took it to the City Council through the local representative. Bestan ir’Tonn, who’s a halfling barrister strongly connected to the Boromars. They did it last night and got permission to have you evicted and your property and its contents held as collateral in case a fine has to be assessed for the attack on the House of Hazal and the deaths that occurred there.”

The Warden takes a quick look around, lingering for a second on Luna again, and continues hurriedly, “I’m absolutely sure you don’t need to worry about it, and the whole thing will be cleared up in a couple of days, but leaving quietly will be much better. Kestran managed to get himself involved since you include Gareth, who’s a non-Brelish citizen, and multiple immigrants, and the attack killed a couple of Karrnathi immigrants. The Guardians deal with the actions of foreign nationals and immigrants, including crimes involving them. He’s never liked how much attention you guys get. And he brought some of the Redcloaks along to see that you don’t cause trouble. I just found out about it and made sure I invited myself along to make sure nobody does anything silly. So … please don’t!”

“We won’t,” says Six quickly. “We’re leaving!”

“What?!” roars Luna. Even the others look at Six with some surprise.

“Listen,” says Six, “Half the time we’re complaining about the trouble this city gives us. Luna – you’re always saying this place is too crowded. And we’re too easy to find here, as Emrena did, and we’ve got a lot of things to do for which we don’t really need to be here. So let’s just get out of here, let Balan clear this up, and come back when we need to. You can clear this up – right, Balan?”

“Um, yes,” says Balan, seeming a little surprised at the speed of Six’s agreement.

“All right,” says Six, heading for the door. “Let’s move!”

“But, but … they’re throwing us out!” almost wails Luna. “And we’re just going to let them? Without a fight?”

“No, Luna,” snaps Nameless. “No fighting! That’ll just cause more trouble. Thanks for the help, Balan. We’ll get our stuff and leave.”

“Actually,” says Balan carefully, “Technically you’re not supposed to be taking any of the contents…”

“Anyone touches my self-cleaning carpets they die!” snarls Luna. “I’m taking them. And the rakshasa rugs. And the stuffed mind flayer. Just try to stop me!”

Balan lifts both hands and steps back. “Sure, sure – whatever you say. And don’t worry about anything you leave behind. It’s going to remain here. And Fett and your guards can keep an eye on it.”

“All right. Luna, there’s a limit to how much we can carry with us. Take the minimum.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Luna growls, turning and following Six, who is already heading out of the door. As she passes out of it, she transforms into a large wolf, startling Kestran, who was standing as near the door as he could without actually listening at it. Luna bares her fangs and snarls at him, causing the dwarf to grab at a weapon and yell for help.

Meira, still lounging at the doorway, calls, “Is there any trouble?”

Balan, who has followed Luna out of the room with the others, quickly says, “No, no trouble at all. Stop being foolish, Kestran!”

The wolf turns and glares at Meira. “Something wrong? You traitor bitch! What the hell sort of shifter are you?”

Meira simply flashes a wolfish grin back at her, but Six quickly intervenes. “Luna – come on! You need to help me get our stuff.” Luna stares at Six, back at Meira, and then back at Six again. “All right.” She turns away, and then, as an afterthought, suddenly, extends her prehensile tongue and licks the horrified Kestran’s face.

“Gah!” Kestran staggers away, wiping at his beard, shouting, “Balan – you saw what she did!” Trying to hide his amusement, the Warden replies quickly, “She licked you. Get over it!”

Nameless reaches in his pocket and produces a set of keys, which he proceeds to jingle in front of Luna. “See, Luna? Shiny! Follow the shiny!” He mimics throwing the keys up the steps.

With a half-amused half-angry-snarl, Luna sticks her tongue out at him, and then pads her way up the stairs after Six. Pausing at the top, she looks down and growls, “You’re all going to pay for this. All of you! And Sharn!”

As she disappears upstairs, Nameless shakes his head. “We’re going to be hearing about this for a long time!” Then he digs in a pouch and produces one of the crystals that are part of the farspeaking amulet obtained from Emrena. “Keep this, Balan. It’ll let me contact you daily. I’ll leave another with Fett.”

The Angels collect whatever they are taking with them and re-gather in Nameless’ sanctum, mostly ignoring the unhappy looking Deneith guards and watchmen whom Kestran sends to watch what they are taking with them. Korm is the last to arrive, seconds after a couple of startled screams ring through the building, grinning from ear to ear.

“What happened?” asks Gareth.

“Kestran found Nameless’ larder and decided to check it out. I warned him.”

Nameless laughs and teleports the Angels away.

 

[shilsen]

“So you’re definitely interested?” asks Corven, looking around at his old companions as they sit in his rooms in New Cyre. The former member of the Angels is clearly doing well for himself, looking healthier and maybe even a little paunchy in comparison to when he was adventuring with them.

“Yes,” says Nameless. “We’re going to need to do some work in there and since you’d asked a while ago, we thought we could help you in the process.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that. From all that I’ve been reading about your activities, I gather you’ve picked up a few skills since I last saw you, and I’m sure your abilities and expertise will come in very handy. So, what are you doing in the Mournland?”

Complete silence greets his question and after a couple of seconds, he raises a hand. “Actually, you know what? I don’t need to know. This is one of these things where I’m safer not knowing, right?”

Nameless nods and says succinctly, “Definitely.”

Corven grins. “Hey, I spent enough time around you bunch, remember?” He winks at Korm. “You have my sympathies. So let me tell you a bit about the expedition.”

He goes on to explain that the expedition is going into Mournland in five days. It is the largest expedition to ever enter the area and will be doing so in a double-pronged manner, half going in from near the large town of Vathirond at the north-eastern corner of Breland, while the other half will be doing so from near Fort Kennrun, further to the south. Corven prefers that the Angels accompany the southern group. Each group will include artificers from House Cannith, scholars from Morgrave University, and former Cyrans of all stripes, with security provided by House Deneith. The groups will establish a camp both inside and outside the Dead-Gray Mist which surrounds the Mournland, with multiple smaller parties heading into the Mournland from the inner camps. For example, parties from the southern group will head for the former camp of the deceased Lord of Blades and the remnants of the city of Making. These parties have different objectives ranging from general study to examining a particular location to attempting to recover particular lost objects. The expedition is expected to last at least a month and may extend its stay depending on discoveries, use of resources, loss of members, etc.

After Corven covers these basic details, Nameless asks him to tell them as much as he can about the Mournland. Corven proceeds to expand on a number of the unusual elements of the area beginning with the Dead-Gray Mist, the wall of thick gray mist which forms a wall and ceiling to the land. He mentions that it varies drastically in width, has been known to disorient and sometimes harm those traveling through it, and probably has creatures dwelling within it. He goes on to warn of the problems with food and water in the Mournland, since nothing growing or living in there is safely edible, nor can the water there be drunk. Food and water must be brought in from outside, and this is further complicated by the fact that provisions in even securely sealed containers will sometimes rot and decay incredibly fast. Only provisions stored in extradimensional spaces are completely safe, until one removes them. Navigation is also complicated. Maps of pre-Mournland Cyre are of very limited use, since the terrain has shifted drastically and most landmarks have disappeared. The few maps made by earlier expeditions are not much better, since the terrain of the Mournland also seems to shift dramatically over time, so a journey that took three days may take twice that long on the way back.

Corven then goes on to talk about the problems of magic in the Mournland, especially the fact that almost no healing magic works in there. Gareth promptly interrupts. “Healing doesn’t work in there? Any healing?” He turns to Nameless. “Why are we going in there again?”

The Angels begin to grin at the paladin’s worried face and tone, and Corven throws back his head and guffaws. “Ah – I see some things never change.” He looks at Nameless. “So I guess ‘heal me, heal me!’ is still Gareth’s war-cry?”

Nameless chuckles, “Yes. Very much so.”

Gareth scowls and says, “Very funny. I just want to make sure what we’re going into. So, no healing at all?”

“Not for you,” replies Six, with a metallic chuckle, “But repair spells work fine on me. I always said you need to be more metal.”

“Six is right,” corroborates Corven. “Normal healing spells don’t work. But you have one advantage, since you’re a paladin.”

“We’re not completely sure about that,” grins Korm.

Corven lifts a quizzical eyebrow but doesn’t ask, explaining, “Your ability to heal wounds by touch will still work.”

“And we can heal in extradimensional spaces too,” says Nameless, “Such as a rope trick or a magnificent mansion. Right, Corven?”

“Correct. That’ll be your best option. The main issue with magic is that the Mournland distorts it in many ways, some of it being consistent – like with the effect on healing magic – or tied to particular locations, and some being completely random and dependent on nobody knows what cause. Luckily, there are some things we’re fairly sure of. For example, divinations cast from outside the Mournland tend to be almost useless about its contents, and are only slightly better inside it. And this includes creatures entering the Mournland, which become incredibly hard to use divinations on. There especially seems to be no way to divine the cause of the Mournland, with even spells as powerful as commune, contact other plane and legend lore providing no information at all.”

The Angels, with their information about the role that Nameless inadvertently played on the Day of Mourning, all keep silent, and Corven continues, “Something which doesn’t matter to most people, since they aren’t powerful enough to employ it, but will to you is teleportation magic. Teleportation into the Mournland from outside simply fails to work. Teleportation within the Mournland or out of it does often work, but with drastically random effects. Similarly, any conjured creature sent across the boundary of the Dead-Gray Mist apparently winks out of existence. Creatures can be conjured inside the Mournland but the effects are fairly random. There have even been cases of them attacking their summoners, though that should not be possible. Necromancy is both extremely powerful and incredibly dangerous within the Mournland, which is understandable since it is effectively a mass grave.” Corven hesitates slightly, clearly thinking of all that he and his countrymen lost that day, before continuing, “Nearly 2 million people died on the Day of Mourning, and their bodies still litter the land, since the dead do not decay there. The Mournland is heavily populated by the spirits of the dead and their lingering life energy allows necromantic spellcasting to often be much more powerful than the caster expected, but usually to have all sorts of additional effects. Not necessarily good ones.” He smiles thinly. “Not that I expect you’ll be practicing much necromancy in there.”

Corven continues to the subject of the inhabitants of the Mournland, of which there are actually quite a large number. Those creatures which survived the Day of Mourning were all warped and changed in various ways, usually much to their detriment and that of those which meet them. The Mournland has apparently also formed its own ecology, with new creatures appearing that are unseen elsewhere in Khorvaire. The most famous of these aberrant life forms are the living spells, thousands of which exist there. Though the original theory was that living spells were created specifically on the Day of Mourning, there is some evidence now that more are appearing, including deadlier and more powerful varieties than before.

This is the piece of information which really interests Luna, who has been seeming significantly bored with most of the preceding information. “Living spells? That’s what I was interested in. I want one for a pet!”

“Umm … what?”

“I want one. I’ve wanted one ever since Nameless told me about them!”

Corven looks at Nameless with incredulity, the emotion only diminished because this is Luna saying what she is. “You did tell her what a living spell is, right?”

Nameless says dryly, “Yes. And you haven’t been gone long enough to have forgotten how little difference that makes.”

“What?” Luna scowls. “Why do you idiots keep acting like that? I just want one. Not even a big one. Maybe a poison one? That would be so cool! I could keep it in my room. And since I’m immune it wouldn’t bother me, but if some idiot like that bastard Kestran came to my room then it would melt his head off!”

Corven makes one effort to explain. “Luna – a living spell is a mindless creature which only seeks to destroy whatever it encounters.”

“So? If I keep it long enough I’m sure it’ll grow to love me!”

“And,” mutters Korm, “I will hug it and kiss it and love it and call it fluffy!”

“Shut up, you!” growls Luna. “You’re just jealous because I can have my own little poison cloud and you can’t because you’re not immune, like a real druid would be!” She turns back to Corven. “Anyway, about getting my cloud….”

Nameless waves at Corven over Luna’s head. “You know, we’ve got a couple of other places to go. How about we come back another time?”

Corven, already holding a hand to his head, nods. “Yes, that would be best.”

* * *

Since distance is no longer an issue for them, the Angels decide to head back to Sharn and inform Flim Turen of what happened with them and their house. The gnome correspondent is very happy to hear the story and takes copious notes about it, promising to check with Balan and have a story about it in the Korranberg Chronicle as soon as he can.

With that taken care of, the adventurers discuss what to do next. Nameless suggests visiting Q’barra and taking out another army for practice, but the others prefer to go after the manifest zone that Saala told them of in the Shadow Marches. So Nameless teleports them to the spot.

With it already being evening by this point, they decide to make camp for the night and head into the tunnels the next morning. Nameless puts up a rope trick half a mile from the entrance and the Angels settle down for the night, looking forward to a day of kicking aberration ass and not taking any names.

 

[Vorput]

With it already being evening by this point, they decide to make camp for the night and head into the tunnels the next morning. Nameless puts up a rope trick half a mile from the entrance and the Angels settle down for the night, looking forward to a day of kicking aberration ass and not taking any names.

Which is good because the names are in alien syllables foreign to the human tongue, the very sound of which can rip your sanity apart.


Can't wait to see what you do with the Mourland. I still have nightmares about that mournland children post in the Horror Thread ::shudders::

Vorp

 

[Rackhir]

From the web boards we use for some of the in between game time stuff.

Of course, he adds, it's unlikely that you'll be able to keep the place in Upper Tavick's

Me : Nameless will plane shift to Xoriat when he hears this. Since Luna is going to go nuclear.

No scratch that, we're going to need the Daelkyr to help restrain Luna. This whole seed things might work to our advantage after all.

Hah! I'm imagining a daelkyr leading an army of aberrations out of a portal and finding Nameless waiting for it with a worried expression on his face. "Listen, we've got a problem..."

 

[shilsen]

Can't wait to see what you do with the Mourland. I still have nightmares about that mournland children post in the Horror Thread ::shudders::

Oh, come on! They were sweet!

"Play with me."

Awww!

Anyway, here's the next bit. Two segments again.


* * * * * * * * * *

“All right,” says Korm, “Let’s see what I can find out.” The Gatekeeper completes the commune with nature. “So I’m checking the terrain, the presence of humanoids, and the presence of powerful aberrations – right, Nameless?”

“Yes.”

Korm feels his consciousness expand into the surrounding area and soon realizes that Saala was correct in that there is just the one tunnel leading under the rocky hill, which soon splits into a maze of tunnels and small caverns. These stretch for nearly a quarter of a mile, descending about half that distance, before opening into a gigantic cavern. The cavern must contain buildings or constructed areas of some kind, since there are multiple blind spots that his spell cannot penetrate. There are also multiple blind spots inside the tunnels and caverns, but strangely each of them is only a few inches thick. Korm assumes they are constructed walls or barriers to block passage. He does not detect any humanoids, but he does detect a number of powerful aberrations. There are twelve of them among the tunnels and smaller caverns, two more in the huge caverns (though, of course, there may be more among the buildings), and another three right at the edge of his spell range. He also picks up a large channel passing through the cavern which is probably the underground river Saala mentioned. Certain parts of the channel show up as blind spots to his magical senses, so it has clearly been worked on, and there is a network of these blind spots heading off towards the far end of the caverns, to and past the trio of powerful aberrations in the distance.

The spell ends and Korm describes everything that he picked up. “Now I’ll go and check it out a little up-close and personal.” He turns and mounts the phantom stag that he had summoned before casting the spell. “Come on, H’ru’dolph – let’s go do some scouting.”

“You named it?” asks Gareth. “How do you tell the difference?”

“Easy,” says Korm, “He’s the one with red nose. Okay, H’ru’dolph – up, up and away!” The stag breaks into a run and, on its third step, fades from sight, turning ethereal along with its rider.

The rest of the Angels settle down to wait, but it’s less than a minute later that Korm and the stag reappear. Both look a little the worse for wear, especially Korm, who has a couple of deep scratches on his right arm and a pallor that lightens his gray skin.

“What happened?”

Korm shakes his head. “Something’s screwy here. When I went ethereal, I got this strange queasiness that usually doesn’t happen. The ethereal fog was much thicker than it tends to be, and though I could see the material plane and you guys, it was only up to about thirty feet from me, around half the normal distance. And the fog had these disgusting streaks of purple, green, brown, yellow and other colors I can’t even name. And the ethereal plane normally doesn’t do colors either.”

“Okay, if there’s purple and green it’s some of your Xoriat crap, Nameless,” growls Luna.

“Yes, likely my Xoriat ‘crap,’ as you so eloquently put it,” says Nameless dryly. “What scratched you, Korm?”

“I was getting to that. I wouldn’t have minded all the color and all, if it wasn’t for the fact that when I arrived there, it was without H’ru’dolph. And flat on my back. And with some … what’s the technical term … oh yeah … ugly-ass critter standing right on top of me.”

“Interesting. What did it look like?”

“About 9 feet tall, mostly skeletal, with very little skin and muscle. And in the middle of its chest was this weird little manikin thing, which kept flailing around and looking like it was screaming.”

“Ah! A devourer,” says Nameless. “Extraplanar undead, which inhabit the ethereal and astral planes. They can trap a creature’s essence inside themselves and use it to gain special powers. That’s what the thing in its chest was.”

“So that’s what it was. There was one point when it hit me and I felt this sucking sensation. Then I cut its head off. But not before it scratched and drained me. Then I found H’ru’dolph – he was about a hundred feet away – and came back. Gareth, do you have a restoration?”

The paladin shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn’t prepare one today.”

Six shakes his head and swings his magical haversack off his back. Reaching in, he produces a large wooden case, which is full of pigeonholes, a roll of parchment protruding from each. He runs a large metal finger over the markings that run along the sides of the pigeonholes, muttering to himself.

“What’s that?” asks Luna.

“My personal organizer. I know I can’t trust you guys to deal with every eventuality, so I took some precautions and brought a lot of scrolls. Now let’s see … cleric spell … fourth level … ah, here we are.” He pulls one out and tosses it to Gareth. “Use this on him. And Korm, you buy me one next time we’re in town.”

“Gladly.” Once the restoration has been used on him, Korm says, “Okay – I’ll try that again.”

“Are you sure?” asks Nameless.

“Why not? What else could go wrong? Actually, don’t answer that.” Korm and his stag disappear again.

This time, he reappears nearly half an hour later. “I’m back. No problems like last time, but there’s definitely weird stuff going on. Seems like every time you go ethereal you’re pushed in a random direction, since we ended up separated again. But I found him and we headed into the tunnels. They’re fairly large, anywhere from ten feet in height and width to twice that, so Luna should be able to fit through fairly easily. Some look a lot older than others, and there are strange flows in the stone, as if the tunnels were dissolved out of the rock. Lots of caverns in there too. We’ll take a little more time getting through them because there are stone walls blocking off the tunnels at spots, starting from about two hundred feet past that cave entrance.”

“Artificial walls?”

“Yes. And I found the sources too. In one of the caverns I rode through I saw four stonesingers.”

“Stonesingers? What’s that?” asks Gareth.

“A rare form of aberration,” explains Korm, “Looks like a giant scorpion with its body made of flexible stone.” Nameless nods and adds, “They have the ability to affect stone in many ways, including throwing up walls of stone.”

“So what’s the singing angle?” Luna inquires.

“They supposedly enjoy music, though not of a human kind. They’ve also got the ability to manipulate sound and blast enemies with it, knocking them out.”

“Yup,” says Korm. “And they can bite with a mouth which is actually in what looks like the scorpion’s tail, and it has a poison that can slowly petrify you. Anyway, as I was saying, I saw four of them in one of the caverns. I kept going and didn’t see any other creatures in the tunnels, but we know there are other powerful aberrations – maybe more stonesingers – in there too. I eventually got to the giant cavern, and just as I’d figured, there’s a city in there, full of stone buildings. Weird-looking as hell, but you already know that. It’s got all sorts of strange fungus growing over it. You’ll see. The middle of the cavern has three giant pillars all the way up to the ceiling fifty feet up. They’re not big enough to be holding it up, and they glow with a purple light, so I’m guessing they’ve got some other reason for being there. The city’s full of dolgrims, probably a couple hundred, and I saw half a dozen dolgaunts in there. A thick stream does run through the cavern, just like I thought, with a couple of stone bridges over it, and there are channels on the far side through which the river runs to the place I think we’re looking for. There’s a giant black building there. About two hundred feet wide and a hundred high. It looks like four giant steps on top of each other, each one set in from the one below.”

“A ziggurat,” says Nameless.

“Whatever. Anyway, the channels run to it and a couple run into it under the only thing that looked like an entrance, a big stone door. But it was shut when I got there.”

“So what was inside? Walls wouldn’t be a problem for you on the ethereal plane.”

Korm shakes his head. “Normally not. But I tried riding through these ones and almost smashed poor R’hu’dolph’s face in. It’s just as much a barrier on the ethereal plane.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah. And it’s got to be the source of the weird effects on the ethereal. The visibility and sound and color problems were all much worse in the cavern and by the time I got to the, um, ziggurat I could see only about fifteen feet from me. Anyway, I figured I’d seen enough by then and came back.”

“Good choice,” agrees Nameless. “All right, let’s head in there.”

“Yeah,” growls Luna, “I’m bored. I need to kill something today.”

“Yes, Luna – I’m sure you do,” says Nameless. “But let’s be careful in there. We don’t know what other effects the manifest zone has had in the area.”

Korm laughs. “Hey, I just went to the Ethereal plane, lost my ride and had a giant undead with a soul in its chest try to mug me. How much worse could this be?”

* * *
Twenty minutes later…

“Hold on!” hisses Nameless, looking into the cavern ahead of them. “There’s something in there.”

“What?” says Luna, looking around. “I don’t see anything.”

“I’m picking up magical auras from six spots. Four on the ground, two on the walls.” Nameless points at various spots, while continuing, “Two auras in each spot. Faint transmutation and moderate enchantment. And fairly large, about ten feet long each.”

“In that case,” says Korm, “Let’s go in carefully and see what happens.” As he takes a step into the cavern, the floor and walls bulge in the areas Nameless mentioned, rippling and flowing away like water from a surfacing whale. Six large creatures emerge, their large scorpion-like forms identifying them as stonesingers. Each has a dozen legs, ending in claws that seem to be made of crystal, and the front of each is a nest of six long claws mounted on thick, segmented arms like giant worms. Each creature’s “tail” seems to be a long stalk ending in a large lamprey-like mouth surrounded by hooked arms.

The basis for their name is evident in the haunting, booming song each breaks into as it emerges, but these are quickly replaced by pained shrieks as the Angels attack. Luna’s flame strike and Nameless’ fireball explode around a number of the creatures, burning away large swathes of their stony scales, and then Six and Korm rush in, chain and sword swinging. Gareth flies forward past them, propelled by the Endless Blade, and hacks into another.

One of the stonesingers pauses momentarily in its song, its crystal claws clicking off the stone as it skitters up the side of the cavern, and a wall of smooth stone springs up to block off the lower half of the tunnel that the Angels entered the cavern through, separating Luna and Nameless from the others. The other five stonesingers also abandon their songs, replacing them with ear-shattering shrieks. Korm, Gareth and Six feel the effects of the attacks, waves of sonic energy battering their bodies and minds, intended to stun and incapacitate them. Gareth resists two attacks, and Six (whose modified harness makes him immune to attempts to knock him unconscious) and Korm stoically absorb one each, but the last one is too much for the Gatekeeper. Korm’s sword clatters to the floor and he slumps over after it.

The small victory brings little joy for the creatures. Luna’s snarling visage appears above the wall of stone as she rears up to rest her forepaws on it, and an arc of lightning flashes across the cavern. The empowered electrical blast drops two of the wounded creatures, and Nameless unleashes another fireball to wound a couple of the survivors, this spell emerging from a jet-black staff in his tentacle, etched with arcane runes and topped with a glistening gem. Definitely worth it, thinks the alienist, letting arcane energy flow from his prepared spells into the runestaff of power that he spent a small fortune purchasing from the premier magical shop in Sharn.

Six and Gareth’s continuing attacks quickly drop a third stonesinger, and the other three turn to flee. One grabs the helpless Korm as it goes, and they conjure more walls of stone and one more shattering shriek to cover their retreat. But their enemies have simply too many resources. Magical flight, adamantine weapons, and 15,000 pounds of bear render their barriers useless, and a few seconds later, all six of the stonesingers lie dead. Including one buried halfway in a cavern wall which was not strong enough to resist the Endless Blade.

Korm, quickly shaking off the effects of the sonic blasts, begins to carve off a large chunk of one of the stonesingers. “What are you doing?” asks Luna.

“I’m going to eat it. Let’s see whether that creates any new powers for me to access.” Korm pauses, thoughtfully. “It’s weird. I know Mordain did this and I should probably feel strange about the idea of eating it, but it just feels right. Plus it might come in handy someday.”

“Forget Mordain!” growls Luna at the reference, “But skin the entire thing. I want those scales.”

“Huh?” asks Gareth. “For what?”

Luna runs a large claw across the corpse, causing the scales to ring rhythmically against each other. “I want some wind chimes!”

* * *

Another fifteen minutes later…

“Yeah, but Luna,” says Gareth, “You really can’t complain about us teasing you when you make a stone tunnel shake by walking along it.”

Luna stops dead in her tracks and says sweetly, “Does that mean you can’t complain when I roast you inside that armor?”

“That’s not the best argument…”

“Guys?” says Six. “I think the tunnel’s still shak…”

Before the warforged can complete the sentence, a huge creature explodes out of the tunnel beneath the Angels, shoving Luna out of the way and flinging Korm and Gareth away. The upper ten feet of a teardrop shaped body rears up, glistening with slime and ending in two large flat appendages, each armed with a set of thick, blunt claws. The head lacks a mouth and is tipped with one gigantic eye, which glares around wildly. Large purple veins as thick as ropes stand out all over its form.

Nameless’ cry of “Delver!” is almost drowned out beneath the creature’s roar. There are words within the shout, like the sound of rock grating against rock, which only Luna can decipher. It is Terran, the language of the creatures of stone in which she communicates with her earth elementals. The delver roars, “Metal! Give me metal!”

Luna shouts back, “If we give you metal, will you let us pass?” but by then her allies are rushing in to attack.

Nameless is the quickest, backpedaling away from the delver quickly (even as he notes that it too has an enchantment aura), and summoning a pair of giant earth elementals, since they can partly sink into the stone walls and still attack. Giant rocklike fists slam into the delver’s body – and immediately begin to dissolve at the touch of the slime on its body, melting like mud in a rainstorm. “Watch out for the slime!” Nameless yells. “It dissolves anything it touches – metal, stone and flesh!”

Six, luckily, was bringing up the rear and is some distance away, but Gareth and Korm are too close. Ignoring the earth elementals, the delver unleashes a smashing blow at Korm. The Gatekeeper reflexively parries with his sword and then realizes, too late, the error. The creature’s giant appendage lands on the meteoric blade, coating it with slime. A lesser metal would have melted instantly into sludge. Even the unique metal of Korm’s sword can resist only partially, instantly going soft, the blade flopping limply from the hilt. “NOOOOOOO!!!”

Gareth’s eyes go wide at the sight and he hurriedly speaks a command word to cause his armor to disappear. I’m so glad I got that enhancement! A shout breaks in on his thought, emanating from the end of his metal hand. “Gareth! Stop f*cking around and get me the f*ck out of here!” the Endless Blade yells. Gareth complies, causing it to disappear into his metal hand.

Gareth turns to run and a heavy blow slams into his back, hurling him down the cavern. The paladin somehow keeps his feet and continues running, Korm only a step or two behind him, the damaged blade dangling from the Gatekeeper’s fist. Gareth feels the slime left behind by the blow eating into his flesh, but right now he has no intention of pausing to deal with it.

Behind them, the elementals continue to hammer at the delver, now using the stubs that remain of their original arms, driven by the spells that summoned them to fight on even as they dissolve. Luna brings down a flame strike on the creature and swears as it has no effect.

“Resistance to spells! Not the norm for delvers!” snaps Nameless, seeing his own magic missiles wink out useless, before having more luck with a lightning bolt fired at almost point-blank range from his staff. The delver roars in anger and pain, before turning to pulverize what remains of the elementals.

That gives Luna and Nameless time to retreat, in the direction of Six, who has also hurriedly backed away from the creature whose touch would likely dissolve most of him. The delver turns, glares at them and then sinks back into the hole it emerged from.

“Is it gone?” asks Nameless, looking around.

“No!” shouts Luna, “It’s beneath us! More elementals – quick!” She hurriedly begins to cast, as does the alienist. As they are completing their spells, the delver roars out of the tunnel floor, looming over Six, who attempts vainly to dodge aside.

A giant appendage slams down on him – and strikes a huge flaming form that appears between it and the warforged. Four fire elementals ring the creature and pound into it, each of their blows leaving small flames behind which continue to scorch the mottled hide. Though the elementals damage themselves with each blow, unlike their earthen counterparts they do not dissolve easily, and the numbers are too many for the delver. It roars in rage, striking mighty blows, but by the time it has destroyed one assailant its movements are weak and sluggish. The creature tries to sink back underground, but it has left things too late. Three more fiery fists slam down, and it collapses.

“Phew!” says Luna. “You guys clean up here. I’ll check on our heroic swordsmen.” The giant bear lumbers down the tunnel in the direction Korm and Gareth fled. After a few seconds, Nameless and Six hear her scream. With laughter.

Luna staggers back into sight, giggling hysterically. “What’s so funny?” asks Six.

“I found them,” Luna gasps, “Sitting out there. Korm was stroking his sword and … and … trying to make it hard, and Gareth … Gareth was making himself wet at the sight!” The bear places both paws over her muzzle and begins to laugh again.

Gareth strides out of the darkness behind her. “Hey! I just used create water to get rid of the slime, okay?” Korm emerges behind him too, not saying anything, looking as if he might actually cry. “Nameless,” says the Gatekeeper, ignoring Luna, “Is there any way you can fix this?”

Nameless studies the sword minutely and then finally shakes his head. “You realize this metal is unique, right? I’ve never seen this kind of effect. My best suggestion right now is a make whole spell. Which is a clerical spell, so I can’t help. Sorry.”

A metallic voice behind them says, “Figures. Sit down.” Six produces his scroll storage case and begins to dig around it. After a few seconds, he produces a scroll. “Gareth – use this.”

The paladin does so, first making Korm lay out the sword blade completely flat on the ground first. Korm studies the sword breathlessly, watching without a word as the soft metal slowly hardens and returns to its adamantine consistency. “Yesss!! Six – I could kiss you!”

“Makes sense,” says Luna with an ursine shrug. “Now that your sword is hard again…,” and dissolves into hysterics again.

 

[shilsen]

Half an hour later…

The Angels look cautiously out of the mouth of a tunnel, gazing at the strange landscape which stretches before them, lit by a dim violet light. There are more tunnel openings in the cave wall beside theirs, emerging onto a ledge from which stone ramps lead down thirty feet to the bottom of an immense cavern.

On the cavern floor sits a strange town*, beginning at the foot of the curving ramps. Gigantic polyps and multicolored fungi up to twenty feet tall interweave with twisted stone structures of various kinds, growing over and covering some of them. Some of the smaller structures are presumably homes, with dolgrims emerging from or entering them. But others are simply edifices with no clear function, such as twisted towers which support nothing and have no obvious entrances. Undulating walls form roads and avenues, some of which lead neatly through the town and others of which seem to have no sense to them. Bizarre statues dot the landscape, mostly of gnarled, tentacled things. A sequence of low red domes towards the far side of the settlement form the outlines of what looks like a gigantic, many-eyed face, and from amongst them three columns of stone reach up to the ceiling like gigantic stalagmites. Each of the pillars is wreathed in unearthly flame, which bathes the central part of the cavern in a nauseating violet light and makes the darkness around its edges deeper. Just beyond the pillars, about four hundred feet from where the Angels stand and at the limits of their vision, is an underground stream, with twisting stone bridges reaching across the thirty foot wide span of water. Channels from it lead into the city and off into the darkness on the far side. The air here has a thick and noxious quality to it, with an underlying taint of rot.

“Just beautiful,” says Six dryly, before looking at Nameless. “You okay?”

The alienist removes his tentacle from the back of his head, where a dull pain has sprung up. “Just my ‘wound’ acting up for a moment. And I can feel the manifest zone. It’s out on that side of the cavern.” He points off into the distance.

“That’s where the ziggurat is,” says Korm.

“Okay. I’ll just dimension door us over. Luna, you’ll have to change back.”

The bear changes back into Luna’s normal form, but she shakes her head. “Nope. I want to see a little more of this place.” Producing a potion, she says, “I’ve been wanting to use this for a while. I’ll go gaseous form and float over. You guys go ahead.”

Gareth frowns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Luna promptly turns back into a bear and sticks her giant tongue out at him. “I didn’t ask you! Don’t be such a party-pooper. Nobody’ll notice me and I won’t attack anyone. Promise!” The bear swigs the potion and quickly dissolves into mist.

Nameless sighs. “Fine! It’ll take you a little while, since you’re slower in that form. Fly up to the ceiling and move along it so there’s little chance of you being spotted. I’ll pop us across in three or four minutes and you can join us.”

The mist flows out of the cave and heads for the cavern ceiling. Korm watches it go and then says, with cheerful pessimism, “You know this is going to go bad, right?”

“Yes,” says Nameless, “But, nevertheless, it doesn’t hurt to try.”

While the others wait, the shifter in giant bear form in gaseous form floats up to the cavern roof and then across over the top of the city. Luna looks down to see more of what she already had, but now her comparatively better vantage lets her notice more about the fungus and the structures. The fungal growths are more widespread than she had originally thought, actually carpeting large swathes of the town and spreading a good twenty feet up the three pillars. It also seems to have combined with the structures in certain places to make them almost seem alive, and in a manner that is more animal than vegetative. In one place, instead of a doorway, a giant forked tongue extends from a building, slowly licking the green growths on its surface. Further along, a two-story tall lung clings to the side of another building, gasping irregularly with a heaving that shakes the entire structure. The walls of another gruesome edifice are alive with four-foot long cilia that wave gently in the air. This is icky! think Luna, with an appreciative shudder of her misty form.

A couple of minutes after Luna has departed, Nameless says, “I’ll pop us across now. Korm, how far away was the ziggurat?”

“About six hundred feet.”

“Okay. I’ll make it five hundred feet then, to be on the safe side. Is the cavern floor approximately at the same height all through? And are there any obstructions?”

Korm shakes his head. “Yes. And nope. Put us five feet above the ground at five hundred and we should be fine.”

Once the others are ready, Nameless does so. And that’s when things go very, very awry.

Nameless feels a strange sense of dislocation, much stronger than the mild disorientation that accompanies a dimension door, and everything goes dark around him. And then there is the tearing pain and sense of being hurled sideways which he recognizes as the result of appearing inside a solid object and being shunted to the nearest open space.

The alienist stumbles and almost falls as he appears on the cavern floor, emerging from one of the walls. He is looking back at the dolgrim town, still visible in the light of the towers, but the illumination does not extend to his position, so he can only see out to sixty feet in the immediate area. Where are the others?

A split second later, Korm emerges from the floor of the cavern forty feet away, skin torn and ripped in multiple places. The Gatekeeper ignores the blood running down his chest and arms and growls, “What the hell happened?”

Nameless shakes his head. “Where are Gareth and Six?”

Half the question is answered by a startled yell above the two and the appearance of a plummeting Gareth, who slams into the ground between them with bone-shattering force. The paladin rolls over, tries to sit up, falls back and hurriedly lays healing hands on himself. Korm reaches down to lift him to his feet and then begins to heal his own wounds. “Nameless?”

“The manifest zone’s been bleeding over into the area around it, I’m guessing,” says Nameless, “And apparently affecting astral travel too. We each got shifted in a different direction when I moved us. A little deeper and we could have been killed.”

Gareth wipes blood off his face and growls, “You think?”

Nameless doesn’t even look at him, continuing to look around the area, as he snaps, “Shut up, Gareth. You’re alive. Six, I’m not sure about yet.”

As he speaks, there are three sudden flashes of violet light, one from each of the pillars. And a giant roar as Luna appears in her bear form against the roof, some fifty feet behind them, and drops like a stone.

“Sh*t!” say Nameless, Korm and Gareth simultaneously.

Six has precisely the same thought, being in the perfect position to see Luna drop, having been shunted to a spot some twenty feet below the dolgrim town, about eighty feet from the pillars. Luckily, nobody sees him as he pops out of the floor, and he quickly summons the shadows from his harness. They immediately take on the color and apparent texture of the stone around him, and he begins to make his way stealthily towards the stream.

Above him, Luna is floating towards the pillars when they suddenly flare with light, and she feels her gaseous form fade away. There’s no time for her to react before she drops, actually smashing a small stone dome to smithereens. Luna rises, bruised and growling, from the rubble, to see what seemed like part of a stone wall near her resolve itself into Six.

“What happened?” he asks. She shrugs. “Damn pillars dispelled me, I think. Why are you here?”

“No idea. Let’s get on the other side first.” Six points at the scores of shouting dolgrims which are heading in their direction, with six or seven dolgaunts among them. “We’ve been noticed.” Hard to miss a giant falling bear, of course.

“I guess so,” says Luna, looking in the opposite direction. “Look!”

Six turns to see the giant mass of fungus in the area moving. Ripples run through it as the huge carpet of mold flows together, receding off buildings and away from the towers, beginning to roll itself into a giant mass. “That’s not good, whatever it is. Move!” His color changes again and he begins to move towards the stream again. Luna nods, activates her magical belt and begins to fly in the same direction.

Looking behind her, Luna sees that the mass of mold has formed into a rough ovoid some fifteen feet across, which begins to roll slowly after her, growing as it comes. What the f*ck? Apparently the dolgrims are not much happier to see it, slackening their speed at its appearance, but the dolgaunts urge them on and they begin to move forward slowly. Their advance ends in screams as a cloud of ugly green vapor suddenly appears, enveloping the latter end of the giant fungal ball and extending over the leading dolgrims.

“Nameless!” Luna turns to see the flying form of the alienist, the source of the cloudkill. Korm flies behind him, borne on large leathery wings like a cloaker’s, as does Gareth, with wide angelic wings extending from his magical tunic.

“Get a move on!” shouts Nameless, pointing at the fungal mass, which is building up speed as it rolls over the obstructions in its path. Luna waves a paw dismissively as she flies forward. “Relax – I’m flying!” Then, as she flies between two of the pillars, a comically startled look crosses her ursine face and she slaps the paw against her muzzle. Beneath her, Six stumbles and then catches his balance. As they reached the pillars, a wave of nausea enveloped the two. The warforged continues, but moving more slowly and carefully, trying to fight off a desire to void the contents of his stomach. And I don’t even have a stomach!

Trying to resist a similar desire, Luna looks back. The giant fungal mass is now twenty feet in width, dwarfing even her huge bulk, and a wide slash divides it almost into two, the segments on either side flapping back and forth like giant lips, pus leaking from between them. A giant tentacle, each another twenty feet in length, now juts from each side, flailing at the air. Okay, that’s just freaky! Good thing I can still fly faster!

Apparently the giant creature, whatever it is, realizes the same thing. The two tentacles stop in their flailing for a second and then reach out directly of the creature. There is nothing for them to grab onto, but they curl and flex, as if latching onto thin air. And then the creature hauls itself into the air, pulling itself along with its tentacles faster than Luna can fly.

“Oh, come on!” growls Luna, “That’s not fair!” The bear spins around in mid-air and unleashes a flame strike, scorching the creature. The column of magical flame slams down on the target and promptly disappears. “Aaaarrgh!” Luna howls in frustration. “That’s REALLY not fair!”

“Very well. I guess we’re fighting it,” says Nameless, flying closer behind Luna. He swiftly uses the assay resistance spell Saala had taught the Angels on their first meeting, and then hurls an empowered fireball, which leaves large blackened patches on the fungal mass.

“Time to do it old school,” says Korm, raising his sword, as does Gareth. But before they can attack, the giant fungus hurls itself forward. The giant mouth slams shut around Luna’s upper half, leaving her hind-quarters hanging outside. As she kicks at the outside and rips and tears at the inside, Gatekeeper and paladin fly in, slashing wide rips in the fungal surface. Six’s chain scores the creature’s underbelly.

Despite the gaping wounds, the creature’s only response is a muscular flexing of the ‘lips.’ Luna’s legs kick for a moment and then disappear into the huge maw.

“Better and better!” says Nameless dryly, flying backwards and lashing the creature with more spells, some of which work and others do not. The others continue to hack at it, inflicting more wounds, but some of them are clearly regenerating. It strikes back with brutal force, and a tentacle wraps around Korm and another around Gareth.

The paladin struggles vainly, helpless in the grasp, sword pinned against his side. With a command, the Endless Blade shrinks into a dagger and he saws at the tentacle, but the damage is too little to affect it. The tentacle rises towards the huge mouth, which gapes in preparation.

Then, just as it prepares to cram Gareth in, the creature stops. Beneath it, Six notices another strange rippling motion in the lower section. The warforged leaps out of the way just as another gash appears, almost as large as the mouth, and a stream of glutinous acidic fluid pours out. Along with fifteen thousand pounds of wet, bleeding, seriously pissed off bear.

“Nobody eats me!” roars Luna, rearing up and tearing at the fungal monster with claws and teeth.

Torn and tattered, her target clearly feels the effects of the assault. It flings Gareth and Korm away and slams both tentacles down on Luna, but the enraged bear ignores them. Then it pivots in mid-air, almost rolling over, and the mouth slams shut on her. A second later, Luna disappears into it again.

“This thing clearly doesn’t learn!” says Nameless, blasting it with a cone of cold from his staff.

The spell takes effect, and a large part of the surface freezes solid, and then shatters as Korm, Gareth and Six renew their attacks. The creature batters at them for a few seconds, but its blows are clearly slackening in power and effectiveness. Despite its ability to regenerate and incredible size, there is a limit to what the fungal mass can absorb, and this time it has reached the limit. The giant ovoid falls apart as Luna tears herself free again, this time ripping the gargantuan mass into two halves.

“I said – NOBODY eats me!” Luna shouts, before beginning to rip what remains of the creature into small shreds. When it’s clear that it is dead, she rears up on her hind legs, roaring her rage and defiance. The echoes roll reverberate around the cavern, momentarily drowning out the screams of the dolgrims dying under or fleeing from Nameless’ cloudkill.

“Yes,” says the alienist. “Very impressive, Luna. Now let’s get to the ziggurat.”

The Angels proceed away from the town, the others seeing that Korm was correct about the channels leading away from the stream. They form a network that flows two hundred feet towards an area of the cavern that is much larger than the earlier part, stretching to a height and width well beyond the darkvision of the adventurers. So too does the gigantic ziggurat that the streams converge at. It is made of an incredibly dark purple, almost black, material, very different from the stone in the rest of the cavern.

At first glance, the clean lines and right angles of the structure make it seem very different to the buildings of the town, but closer examination reveals that its sides are festooned with detailed carvings of reptilian and simian monsters wrapped and cradled in endless coils of tentacles. The ziggurat consists of four giant steps, each 25 feet in height and 20 feet in from the lower step. A large and steep ramp rises to a huge rectangular frame on the second level. It is like a very wide doorframe, thirty feet wide and fifteen tall, but blocked by a stone door or wall. Two of the streams of water run up to and under the stone door/wall, ignoring such mundane matters as gravity. Several cracks mar the structure’s masonry, revealing sections of what look like pale green, diseased flesh within. Putrid swathes of mold of a similar shade grow on two of the ziggurat’s sides. In places, great slicks of tacky, dried blood stain the ramp.

“Looks like a fun place, doesn’t it?” says Korm, heading for the doorway. “Let’s knock.”

. . .

And somewhere far away in the depths of Khyber, a pair of eyes open.

Large lavender orbs, they are set in a face of unearthly beauty, but the effect is marred by what lies around it. The face protrudes from a large glutinous mass of mingled flesh and jelly, glistening darkly with slime. The shapeless form rests in the embrace of a curved stone receptacle that could be a seat or a throne.

A small frown mars the perfect brow, and then it clears. Thin, perfect lips spread slowly, and accompanying ripples run through the gelatinous body. Kyrzin, lord of fungus, master of ooze, smiles.

The sacrifices have arrived!


* I took some of the town’s and ziggurat’s description from that of Golismorga in JollyDoc’s Savage Tide SH.

 

[Rackhir]

One thing that didn't come out in the writeup was all of the player's inability to either remember or pronounce Emrena's name. When ever I was talking about her I usually just referred to her as "The Lich" or occasionally "Erma" which led to Shilsen sending this to me.

For various reasons we never got to talk to her (like needing to keep a hand clamped over her mouth to prevent her from dismissing the Anti-Magic Field), but if we had it probably would have gone somewhat like this.

You know, the worst thing you guys did to her is bastardize
her name. It's a pity there wasn't any extended conversation
with her, otherwise I could have put something in the SH like:

Nameless: So, you see, I don't like Erma here...

Lich: Emrena.

Luna: You just don't like Erma because...

Lich: EM-rena!

Korm: If Erma hadn't killed you...

Lich: EM-RE-NA!!!

Gareth: So, Erma ...

Lich: AAARRRGGH!!!

 

[shilsen]

The Angels move up to the top of the ramp and study the stone door carefully. There is no sign of anything that allows one to open it. “Nothing magical about it either,” says Nameless. “Six, can you check it for traps?”

The warforged steps forward and carefully studies the blank stone and then turns quickly to the others. “Multiple voices inside. I think spellcasting. And no traps that I can find.”

“I’ll handle this,” says Korm, stepping up to the door, his cloaker-like wings hanging behind him. The Gatekeeper hacks at the door with all his strength, expecting to hew it asunder easily with his meteoric blade. The sword smashes into the dark purple stone and bounces off with a loud ringing, accompanied by orcish cursing as Korm shakes his badly jarred hands.

Nameless lifts an eyebrow, pointing at the thin crack that has appeared in the door, only about four inches in length, “It’s as hard as adamantine.”

“And opening!” growls Luna, as the door begins to slide upwards smoothly, revealing darkness beyond it.

The darkness that the Angels see appears to bulge outwards through the doorway and is impenetrable to their darkvision, whether it be the natural version that Korm possesses, the divinely granted sight of Gareth, the spell-granted form that Nameless and Luna are currently using, or the type that Six’s third eye gives him. Only Nameless’ arcane sight lets him see something, revealing the magical auras in the area. The darkness is magical, as is an invisible barrier just within it. Multiple auras surround two objects, each low down on the floor and a good forty feet within the chamber, though separated by a fair distance.

“Careful!” shouts Nameless, his inhuman intellect allowing him to comprehend and interpret all of this data instantly, “It’s a blacklight spell, impossible to see through. And there’s a magical wall in the doorway, probably causing a dispel magic if you hit it.” As he speaks, his hands are already in motion, and he follows with the arcane syllables that drop a greater dispel magic in the area.

The blacklight spell instantly disappears (as does the wall of dispel magic, revealing the inside of the ziggurat, lit by a dim purple radiance. The floor within is smooth, made of the same stone as the rest of the ziggurat. Five foot wide channels run through the area, carrying the water brought in by the two streams running up the ramp. Two heads protrude over the edges of these channels, each of them roughly human-like in shape, but with crudely anthropoid features topped with lanky strands of wet hair. Their eyes are invisible, with a thick band of blackness forming a mask over them. Long snakelike necks connect the heads to ophidian bodies, marked with purple and black stripes, whose coils are barely visible as they flow back and forth. Long fangs and forked tongues are visible, as the revealed nagas hurriedly speak the words of various spells.

An ebon eyes spell! thinks Nameless, identifying the black masks as the manifestation of a spell allowing the nagas to see through the magical darkness. Almost as an afterthought, he channels arcane energy through his ring of greater counterspelling, snuffing out the first naga’s spell before it can form. Unfortunately, the alienist can block only one spell, and the second naga completes its casting undeterred, and another blacklight envelops the Angels.

“Somebody dispel it!” shouts Nameless. “They can see through the darkness!”

The painful proof of his words follows a second later as a third, hitherto unseen, naga casts a scintillating sphere, placing it so as to strike all of the Angels. Its effects maximized by the aberration caster, the spell blasts them painfully with electrical energy. Only Six, who had just used his harness to grow to double his normal size, manages to throw himself aside at the last moment. A second later, another wall of dispel magic springs up at an angle in front of the group, as a fourth naga casts its spell.

“On it!” growls Luna angrily and dispels the new blacklight, to now reveal four nagas, two more having swum through the channels to join their companions.

“Me too!” says Gareth, seeing enemies who he considers easy prey if he can only get close to them. The angelic wings protruding from his back flap as he darts through the doorway, calling to the Silver Flame.

Six shouts, “No! Gareth…,” but it is too late. The warforged, as well as Luna and Korm, has heard the sounds of heavy breathing from either side of the doorway, indicating the presence of more enemies within, but there has been no time to warn of it. And now, by the time he can do so, Gareth is already inside.

The paladin’s ring of counterspells does its work, negating the magical wall’s attempt to remove his magical protections, and then he is on the nearest of the nagas, the Endless Blade flashing down in a deadly arc. The target desperately tries to sink down into the channel, but its magical protections and the physical barrier of the water do little as the paladin smites it. The naga screams as Gareth cuts it almost in half, thrashing around in agony. A second later, an empowered arc of lightning shoots through its body and that of its two nearest nagas. While the others gasp and hiss at the shock, the already wounded naga sinks dying beneath the water.

“Yes!” shouts Korm at his spell’s success, and then his eyes widen in surprise as the hidden enemies now reveal themselves. A huge figure, filling fully half the thirty foot wide doorway, shambles into sight. The brutish, tusked face, with its powerful and hide-armored body, a third arm extending from its chest to match the other two that grow from its shoulders, all identify the creature as an athach. As it emerges, the middle arm swings a large club, smashing into Korm’s side and hurling him sideways. Unluckily, the stone lintel of the doorway clips his shoulder, knocking him off his feet.

Gareth’s situation is even more dire than the Gatekeeper’s. In entering, he has seen that there is not one, not two, but three waiting athachs. One charges him, smashing the paladin backwards. But unlike Korm, Gareth stands on the edge of a channel, and the blow knocks him over its edge. With a startled cry, Gareth tumbles into the water, still red from the dead naga’s blood. Chest deep in water, in no position to defend himself, he looks up to see the third athach loom over him, its three clubs hammering down again and again.

Idiot! “Luna – summon something! Something big!” shouts Nameless, firing an emerald green ray at the nearest naga. To his disgust, the creature resists the disintegrate, taking only a shallow wound, and a swift volley of magic missiles has no effect either. Nameless hurriedly rises above the doorway, so as not to provide a target.

Six, now twelve feet tall and proportionately broad, is thinking precisely the same thing, and he quickly descends some way down the ramp, his slashing chain laying open the chest of the athach in the doorway as a parting gift.

Unfortunately for Korm, he is in no position to get out of the way, and before he can regain his feet, he hears the nagas casting more spells. A lance of sonic energy smashes into his head, causing him to see stars. Korm shakes his head, desperately attempting to clear his blurry vision, and looks up, only to see two snowy globes of magical cold shooting at him. Both of them hit and the Gatekeeper drops, blood from his wounds slowly pooling around him.

Inside the ziggurat, Gareth sees the third naga turn to him. Its visage twists cruelly in anticipation as it hisses a spell, serpentine body writhing to provide the accompanying gestures, and an empowered orb of force leaps at him. The battered and beaten paladin takes it right in the chest. Without a word, he collapses, sinking below the surface of the bloodstained water.

And suddenly, there are only three of the Angels, two of them seriously hurt, facing six enemies. Luna – who has been wanting to rush in – swears and decides to follow Nameless’ order and even the odds. Moving away from the door, so as not to make herself a target, she casts a spell. Deep within her the shifter feels her beast spirit, the embodiment of her feral heritage, lending her its strength, and this allows her to complete the casting in half the time another druid might take. A huge humanoid form of animated rock appears in the doorway, hammering at the athach in front of it.

The nagas scream commands in a language none of the Angels speak, and the other athachs move to engage the giant elemental, bashing wildly at it with their clubs. Despite its incredible resilience, the lone creature cannot long withstand their assault, and large cracks spread across its form.

But the couple of seconds it buys are crucial. Nameless descends slightly so that he can see past the doorway and casts his own spell. Reality shifts and Kha’tvan’ga, the Horror from beyond, responds to his master’s call. Its mind-bendingly terrifying shape appears over one of the nagas, its tentacles lashing down to rip and tear.

The embattled naga screams in a combination of pain, surprise and fear, hurriedly casting a spell to attempt to dispel the creature. Unknown to it, Kha’tvan’ga’s pact with Nameless is resistant to such mundane magic, and the Horror will not depart until the duration of the alienist’s spell ends. Or death comes to it, though it will always reform and can be summoned again later. The dispel washes over it uselessly, as does the blast of sonic energy with which another naga attacks.

The third decides that the summoner is a better target and hurls another scintillating sphere, aiming for the area beyond the doorway. It explodes, blasts of electricity forking out to strike Nameless and the elemental in the doorway. The alienist restrains a scream, barely hanging on to consciousness* and almost falling from the air. Six, having evaded the blast again, shouts angrily, “Nameless! You idiot! Get out of the doorway!”

“Get to me!” shouts Luna. Six nods and his chain leaps out – to wrap around Nameless’ leg with incredible precision, not a single barb touching his skin. He flicks his wrist, now enlarged to the size of a burly man’s arm, and the surprised alienist is hurled sideways towards Luna. Even that is too much for Nameless’ wavering consciousness and his vision blurs and begins to darken, before he feels the unforgettable sensation of a giant bear’s tongue slapping wetly against his face, and healing energy flow into him. Though it is not much, Luna being unable to quicken one of her more powerful spells, it is enough to bring the alienist back to functionality.

Six looks into the ziggurat, knowing that his companions cannot do so from where they are, and calls a warning. “We just lost the elemental!”

“Not for long,” grits Nameless, casting quickly, as does Luna. The result, for the nagas and athachs, is a very rude surprise. Having disposed of the elemental, they are turning their attention to the Horror, when three more elementals, one huge and two large, block the doorway.

A barrage of magical orbs and spheres, all of them maximized for optimal damage, and the pounding of the athachs’ clubs smashes through elemental after elemental, but it buys the Angels a moment’s breathing space, since at least they are not being targeted. Nameless and Luna summon as they have never summoned before**, pouring more allies into the ziggurat. On the opposite side, the nagas and athachs fight back with grim determination, absorbing the wounds the elementals inflict, dispelling a few and destroying others as they emerge.

The issue remains in doubt for only seconds, but it seems like hours, both sides pushing themselves to the limit. Nameless draws upon reserves he didn’t know he had, pouring arcane energy into his spells and through his magical items. His ring, though devoid of energy, weakly flashes into life as sheer desperation and an incredible will combine to fuel it, interrupting a maximized scintillating sphere which would have ended the battle for Luna and him, if not Six. The already wounded alienist feels his remaining life energy fading quickly, as he utilizes it to fuel magical feats that should be impossible, recasting spells he has expended, calling forth more powerful creatures than he should be able to now***. As he staggers back and forth in mid-air, Luna pauses again and again in her own casting to channel healing energy into him, barely keeping him conscious. Six buys them more time, dodging and weaving on the ramp, chain constantly slashing into the athachs.

Slowly, the sheer persistence of Nameless and Six and the healing power of Luna, make the difference. The summoned creatures begin to overtax the aberrations’ abilities to cope, and the athachs fall one by one, leaving the nagas facing multiple elementals, gigantic beetles and a badly wounded but still present Kha’tvan’ga. In desperation, the nagas focus on those outside, leaving themselves open to attacks in order to be able to reach the Angels with their spells, and inflict substantial wounds. Luna, impatiently moving forward to be able to summon her elementals inside the ziggurat, takes a magical barrage, only surviving because her beast spirit channels a previously prepared healing spell into her as the nagas’ spells hit, so that her wounds result in unconsciousness, not death****. Six, despite his caution and the cover from the ramp, suffers significant wounds too.

But the result is now certain, and after just over a minute of bloody battle, the Angels stand victorious, looking into a ziggurat absolutely awash with gore. Luna wipes blood off her face and rises from studying Korm’s supine form. “That was close!”


* He was down to 0 hp. If he had dropped, the fight would have been a TPK, since Korm and Gareth were below -10 and Luna can’t summon enough alone to be able to keep the enemy at bay.

** Between them they summoned close to 20 creatures over the course of the fight.

*** Nameless burned through a bunch of swashbuckling cards to allow another counterspell and to recast spells he already had, taking Con damage to do so, with only a couple of quickened spells from Luna keeping him up.

**** That was very close. The players had run out of swashbuckling cards so the damage would have actually killed Luna, when I remembered that one of her beast spirit abilities is to hold one spell in reserve and cast it as a swift action when needed. She had earlier put a Cure Moderate in there and that was enough to keep her in negatives rather than past -10. I really am a sugar daddy.