Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)
- Thread starter Rackhir
- Start date
carborundum
Adventurer
JIMINY CRICKET!
Wow - there's no beating about the bush with Xagygyrag!
/bows before Shilsen for going through with the killings without some sort of deus ex machina rescue
Wow - there's no beating about the bush with Xagygyrag!
/bows before Shilsen for going through with the killings without some sort of deus ex machina rescue
Vorput said:
Actually it was something far more dangerous...
Shil's acquired a girlfriend and I suspect she's been wanting his attention before he heads back to India for the summer.
He's said he'll be working on the next installment once he's back in Calcutta, which should be soon.
We were impressed with his girlfriend though. She sat through two D&D sessions and managed to keep her eyes open almost the entire time!
carborundum
Adventurer
OH NOES! Disaster!
shilsen
Adventurer
Vorput said:
Actually, I'm planning to kill 4e and loot a lot of stuff from its carcass for this game.
Rackhir said:
Rackhir has the right of it. Amber (my girlfriend, who just leaned over and reminded me to post that she is TEH AWESOME!) has been staying with me and is taking off tomorrow, so I've been busy with her. Plus since I'm leaving Philly on Monday I've had a few other things keeping me busy too. But once I'm back in Calcutta, it should be regular business as far as the story hour is concerned.
carborundum said:
carborundum
Adventurer
She must be awesome to be besotted with someone who looks like that old wizard guy from those three films 
shilsen
Adventurer
The next morning, the three surviving members of the Guardian Angels prepare to leave Karrnath. Before they can do so, Korm is contacted by Elabenna via a sending. “Have you had any success? Tried to contact Nameless but got no response. What happened? Did you locate Khesavuthir? When will you return to Io’lokar?”
Korm quickly relays the message to Luna and Six and then replies, “Yes. Survived. Mostly. Found Khesavuthir. Nasty black dragon whupped our asses. Teleportation is unreliable there. Back in Khorvaire. Will return to Io’lokar when we can.”
When he is done, Luna says, “So she couldn’t find Nameless with a sending. I wonder if he’s dead.”
“We’ll know once Jaela attempts to bring him and Gareth back,” says Six.
“If she does,” points out Korm. “But we need to go find out. Let’s leave.”
. . .
Only seconds later, Korm appears outside the Cathedral of the Silver Flame in Flamekeep, startling the temple guards and functionaries as well as the line of pilgrims waiting to enter and those exiting. Weapons are drawn, but after some quick explanation (and the extraction of Six and Luna from a portable hole, an acolyte is dispatched to inform the Keeper and check if the three strange-looking individuals are to be allowed to meet her.
In a couple of minutes, another acolyte arrives at the door to lead the trio in. He leads them in a different direction to the one they took on their previous visit, and as they pass through various corridors and hallways, the Angels notice that there is significantly more traffic here than was the case in the area where they met Jaela. As usual, most of those they pass look at them with some surprise and open curiosity. As the minutes pass, Luna grunts, “So are we there yet?”
“Actually, yes,” says the acolyte, indicating an open doorway. Eight heavily armored guards stand at attention outside. And waiting within, to the trio’s surprise, is not Jaela but a pair of men. Both wear the religious garb of high-ranking clergy, while one wears the trappings of a cardinal of the Church.
The latter studies the Angels keenly for a second and then a smile flashes across his saturnine face, as he says, “Please, be seated. I believe you are here to speak to the Keeper. I am Cardinal Krozen. May I know your business with her?”
The Angels exchange glances and then Korm says, “Umm, no! We have business with only her.”
Krozen’s face darkens slightly, but his tones remain polite. “I realize that. And, as head of the College of Cardinals, it is my duty to know of whatever business the Keeper is engaged in. Please answer my questions and then, when you have done so to my satisfaction, you will be taken to her.”
Six shakes his head impatiently. “No! Now go get her!”
This time there is no mistaking Krozen’s anger. “Insolence!” He barks. “I should have you clapped in chains for this!” Luna, who has been scowling in his direction, loudly asks the others, “Shall I flame strike him?”
Krozen’s eyes go wide in shock and then fury. “Guards!” he bellows, causing those waiting outside to begin to troop in, weapons in hand.
Before Luna can respond with her customary violence, Korm quickly grabs her by the shoulder. Six looks at them and then back at Krozen, before saying, “You’ll thank us for this! This’ll be the happiest moment of your next few months.”
Korm chuckles, “I don’t know. He’ll probably be pretty depressed about the daelkyr invasion, but after that they might be okay.”
As the guards look confusedly at the cardinal for orders, the man beside him hurriedly begins whispering into his ear. The speech is inaudible to anyone on the other side of the room, or to anyone on the other side of the room and not possessing the inhuman senses of the three Angels. All three clearly hear him cautioning Krozen that these people are favored by Jaela and she has ordered them to be sent to her as soon as they arrive. “Wait,” says Korm promptly, “She wants to meet us and you’re holding us up?”
“Yeah,” growls Luna. “She’s not going to be happy!”
Krozen and his ally first look surprised at the comments and that the Angels know what they are saying, and then slightly uncomfortable at the situation. Deciding this is a good time, Six points out, “Listen, cardinal. Whatever we have to tell the Keeper, she will share most of it with you, I guess. And if you try to restrain us, we will have to use violence, and you don’t have enough guards here to handle even one of us. Let us go to Jaela and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
Krozen actually opens and closes his mouth twice before he is able to answer. Luckily, that seems to give him enough time to make up his mind. After the second time, he finally speaks through slightly gritted teeth to say, “Very well. You shall be taken to the Keeper.” The cardinal gestures to the man who brought the three here, who has been looking warily at the scene from behind the guards. The acolyte’s eyes widen and then he nods resignedly.
“Good,” is all Six says as he rises and leads the others out of the room, Luna giving Krozen an insouciant wave on the way out.
The acolyte leads them quickly away, staying as far ahead as he can without seeming to be running away from the Angels. Luckily for him, within a minute they are met by the original acolyte who had left the Angels at the main gate, seemingly confused by their disappearance. Their current guide swiftly hands them over and departs.
A few minutes later, the Angels are ushered into the presence of Jaela. This time she is not alone but with a number of people present, evidently engaged in delegating certain responsibilities. Or, more precisely, watching as the figure next to her does so, adding a few words as needed. It takes the Angels a few moments to recognize this individual, spotless in gleaming plate-mail bearing the insignia of the Silver Flame. Korm grins broadly as he realizes who it is, “Cedric?”
Cedric smiles back at the Gatekeeper and lifts a cautioning finger. “No cheap cracks, you!” Then he gestures at his garb and indicates Jaela. “This is all her fault!” Some of those standing around them look mildly horrified, but Jaela simply smiles slightly. Then she frowns. “Where are Gareth and Nameless? Are they all right?”
“Can we speak privately?” asks Six.
“Certainly. Give us a few moments,” the Keeper replies, before turning to the others. “You know your duties.” They nod and bow on the way out, leaving only Cedric behind. “So,” he says, “What did Gareth do now?”
The Angels quickly explain what has happened. Though Jaela says nothing to interrupt them, she is clearly horrified. Cedric takes things with more equanimity, saying simply, “I’ve got to say that I have been expecting something like this for months now. Jaela, perhaps you can do something for them?”
“Certainly. I would not easily ask the Flame to return someone from the dead, but for Gareth – and Nameless – I shall. I have not prepared the appropriate spells today, but I shall speak to the Flame immediately about what method shall be best.”
While the Angels wait, Jaela casts a divination and asks, “What is the best way to bring Gareth back from the dead?”
As she awaits a response, Six receives a sending in a familiar, if somewhat unexpected, voice. Oh, great! he thinks. Unfortunately, that makes perfect sense!
Jaela, meanwhile, opens her eyes with a surprised look on her face. “They are both alive. And with…”
“…Mordain the Fleshweaver,” completes Six. “He just contacted me to come and collect them.”
* * *
The previous day…
Gareth opens his eyes and squints blearily at the comparatively bright light. It seems to flicker and he feels something sticky on his eyelids – and actually all around him – and it takes him a few seconds to realize exactly what is. The paladin is suspended within a thick and faintly greenish fluid, contained within a giant vat made of glass or some other transparent material. Though the liquid is well over his head, Gareth finds that he has no trouble breathing. He looks down to see that he is naked and has both of his hands intact. Where am I? Gareth wonders, finding his thoughts difficult to form.
Then he focuses on the voice which has been speaking and looks up to meet the cold and unblinking gaze of two gray eyes belonging to the figure standing outside the vat. The skin pulled tightly around them over their owner’s skull-like visage doesn’t even twitch as the harsh, raspy voice continues, in a slightly peevish tone. “…inconvenient of you to die so quickly! I had assumed that would happen eventually, but not so soon. Now I shall have to go to my backup clones!”
Mordain the Fleshweaver looks back and forth between Gareth and Nameless, floating in a vat nearby, ignoring the other vats within which exact facsimiles of Six, Korm and Luna float with eyes closed. He sighs. “Very well. Since you are here, there is little to be done. Sleep now.” As he turns away, darkness again envelops Nameless and Gareth.
* * *
When Gareth and Nameless next awake, they are lying naked on slabs of stone in the same chamber from which they had last departed Mordain’s home a month and a half ago. As they sit up, Mordain’s harsh voice greets them.
“Your companions are here,” says the Fleshweaver as he walks between the slabs. “I shall bring them here to take you away.” He lifts a tentacle-wreathed hand and then pauses and lowers it. “I see the two of you have developed dragonmarks,” he says, looking pointedly at the colored whorls on the paladin’s and alienist’s new bodies. “I would have kept you here and studied them further if I had the time, but I do not. Another time.” Then he gestures, says a word, and disappears. A second later, a glowing green portal about a hand-span wide appears where he had been and his voice warns, “Wait here and don’t go anywhere.”
“Where would I go?” Nameless asks rhetorically as the portal disappears, sitting up and lowering himself to the ground. I was right about the clones.
Doing so as well, Gareth looks at him quizzically. “Do you also now remember everything that he did to us the …?”
“…last time we were here?” Nameless nods. “Yes. I presume he lacked the time – or perhaps the inclination – to change our memories again.” He shrugs. “Not that it matters. What are we going to do? Fight him in his own home with no weapons or spells? Not that I feel a great need to fight Mordain anyway.”
Gareth frowns. “For now. But he is completely evil and at some point we need to …”
He doesn’t complete the sentence, as Mordain reappears, with Six, Korm and Luna around him. The Fleshweaver gestures at the two standing beside the slabs. “There. Take them with you.”
Korm beams at his recently lost companions as he steps towards them. “Nice to see you both still around. We were trying to work out who was going to tell your family, Gareth, and I drew the short straw. I was not looking forward to telling your mother that you got yourself ate by a dragon.”
“Yes. That was foolish,” opines Mordain. “Try not to do it again. Now, please depart.”
“Can we get some clothes for them?” asks Luna. “I don’t care, but popping back to the Cathedral with these two naked won’t look good.” She looks at them appraisingly and grins. “Especially you, Nameless. Damn, man – eat something!”
Six silently reaches into a backpack and pulls out some clothes. As he reaches for them, Gareth says hesitantly, “And I lost my hand. Can you do something about that, Mordain?”
The Fleshweaver sighs, his unbreathing lips emitting no sound, and then reaches into a pouch and extracts what looks like a perfect copy of the metallic hand that he had gifted Gareth earlier. “I have this, but you have no sword to place in it.”
As silently as before, Six reaches into his backpack and produces an object wrapped in a cloth. Which is identified even before he unwraps it, due to the loudly complaining voice which says, “About time! I’ve been stuck in that f*cking bag for so long that…”
As the warforged unwraps it, the Endless Blade shouts joyfully, “Gareth! You dumb f*ck! You’re alive!” Then, as Mordain steps forward to take it, there is silence, and then a muttered, “Motherf*cker!”
Ignoring the sword, Mordain turns to Gareth. “You want the hand? And the sword attached within it like before?”
“Umm, Gareth!” says the Blade urgently, its tone both concerned and wheedling. “I think it would be much more convenient if you just use me without …”
Ignoring it, Gareth replies to Mordain, “Yes, and yes.”
“Very well,” says Mordain. “Stretch out your arm on that slab.” He flicks his wrist slightly and part of the ring of tentacles that extend from it flow together and reshape themselves into what looks like a serrated blade of some pinkish metal.
As the Fleshweaver grasps Gareth’s hand, Korm says, “That looks like it would hurt. And take some time. Would you prefer it if I did it, Gareth?”
The paladin looks at the six-inch long and jagged blade attached to Mordain’s arm and then at Korm’s gleaming sword. “Yes, I think that would be better. Mordain?”
The Fleshweaver shrugs and steps out of the way. “One of you should heal him once it is amputated.”
Korm steps into his place, blade at the ready. “Okay, Gareth – this is going to hurt you more than it does me.”
A few seconds later, a pale Gareth is looking down at the metal hand attached to the end of his bloodied wrist. “Good,” says Mordain, before reaching for the Endless Blade. The Fleshweaver says a couple of words and Gareth feels the metal hand go dead and inactive, before Mordain presses on the palm. A large vertical slot appears in it, which Mordain places the hilt of the sword within, before speaking a couple of words again. The slot slides shut, encasing the hilt, and Gareth feels the hand resume its functioning.
Mordain looks down at the hand and then up and around at the Guardian Angels, the five of whom surround him. “I can,” he says in a tone which is faintly informational, “Deactivate any of my creations at will. Any of my creations.”
Sh*t!
“Now,” he continues, “Please depart. I hope I shall not see you any time soon.”
* * *
“…and so,” concludes Jaela, “I will be very pleased to have all of you present at the meeting tomorrow. You can stay at the Cathedral tonight and we will all leave tomorrow for Thronehold in the morning.”
The Angels ask a few questions about the meeting and the manner in which they will be going there, and then finally, Gareth says, “Keeper, I am a little embarrassed to make this request, but would it be possible for me to obtain some armor from the Cathedral’s stores? I lost mine – and almost all of my belongings – when I was slain by the dragon.”
“Certainly,” says Jaela, “But we will not be able to provide magical armor of the quality you had at such short notice. Cedric’s, for example, took nearly a month to construct.”
The Angels glance at Cedric, leaning against a wall nearby and resplendent in his glittering silver armor. He scratches his chin in thought and then says, “You know what, Jaela – let him take this one,” and taps his breastplate. Jaela looks surprised and Cedric turns to explain to Gareth, “The Keeper gave me this suit in keeping with my new … um, position. I got a promotion today.”
Jaela nods. “Yes. I needed someone I can trust. I have appointed Cedric Champion of the Silver Flame and high commander of the armies of Thrane.”
As Gareth’s eyes bulge slightly at the news*, Cedric grins and says, “See – it even sounds silly. And this thing really looks silly on me. I feel like a lighthouse! Gareth can get better use of it. He likes looking like a lighthouse!” Jaela stares at him again for a moment and then sighs. “All right – it’s your armor now, to do with as you wish.”
“Excellent! Come on, Gareth – let’s get you changed.” The two paladins leave and return a short time later, with Gareth in the silver armor. Cedric is back in his old, battered black armor, looking much happier and somehow giving the impression of having grown a day’s worth of stubble in the interim. “Ah!” he says with satisfaction, before smacking Gareth across the back with a ringing sound. “That’s much better!”
“Now that everyone is here,” says Six, “I need to explain some more of what I learned.” He then proceeds to relate what Xagygyrag told him about the dimensional seals and the use of blood magic and death energy in activating them. While Korm and Luna have heard the details before, the other four people in the room have not, and they listen raptly to Six’s detailed narration.
When Six is done, Jaela says slowly, “I … see. This knowledge is very valuable, but I’m not sure what we can do with it. I shall need to commune with the Flame about it.”
“Have you told anyone else?” asks Nameless.
“Nobody but the people in this room,” says Six.
“I suggest that you keep it to this number,” says Cedric, and Jaela nods.
“The Gatekeepers will have to be informed,” says Korm decisively, and the others nod.
“Yes,” says Jaela. “I am interested to hear their response. Very interested.” Then she takes a deep breath and sighs, for a few moments seeming much older than she is. “But, for now, we have something else to focus on. Tomorrow…”
* * * * *
Late the next morning, the diplomatic contingent from Thrane – consisting of Jaela, Cedric, the Guardian Angels, and a number of people from the Cathedral – patiently awaits the arrival of the leaders and emissaries from the other nations of Khorvaire. Thronehold castle, the ruling seat of the queens and kings of Galifar, looms over them. Stern-faced guards bearing the livery of House Deneith watch them from a distance, keeping unceasing vigil upon these grounds as they – the Throne Wardens – are sworn to do until Galifar is once more knit into one.
Jaela shivers slightly as they wait in the mid-winter sun and pulls her cloak tighter around her thin frame. Cedric looks down at her immediately. “Are you cold?”
The Keeper shakes her head and replies quietly, “My connection with the Flame is weaker once I leave the Cathedral. It’s not a comfortable feeling.”
Cedric nods with unusual gravity. “I know.” He glances at the Angels standing around them. “Remember, if anything goes wrong, protect Jaela and get her out of there first.”
“Certainly,” replies Gareth, “We’ll make…”
The sound of trumpets cuts him off as a contingent of people approaches them, bearing the flag and livery of Karrnath, with another group approaching from a slightly different direction, under the sign of the Brelish bear.
“And so,” says Jaela softly, stepping forward, “We begin.”
Over the course of the next hour, multiple delegations arrive, led by and featuring the absolute height of Khorvaire’s ruling powers. King Boranel of Breland, King Kaius III of Karrnath, and Queen Aurala of Aundair join Jaela in representing the remaining four of Galifar’s five original nations. They are joined by Lhesh Haruuc, whose goblinoids carved out the independent nation of Darguun during the Last War, and two of the Daughters of Sora Kell – the blind dusk hag seer Sora Teraza and the annis hag warrior Sora Maenya – who took Droaam from Breland in a similar fashion. None of the actual monarchs of the various nations are present, sending representatives such as the elderly half-elven druid Faena Graymorn, a member of the Wardens of the Wood, speaking for the Eldeen Reaches. Similarly, ambassadors are present from Zilargo, the Mror Holds, Valenar, Q’barra, the Lhazaar Principalities, the Shadow Marches, and the Talenta Plains.
As may be expected with such an eclectic collection of people, many of whom bear the scars of the Last War if not more ancient enmities, there is a significant amount of bristling and posturing, but the combination of Jaela’s diplomacy and the curiosity of the attendees regarding her request for a meeting helps minimize tensions. In a surprisingly short time, the leading representatives of each delegation are gathered in the great hall of the castle.
Once everyone is seated and ready, Jaela rises and speaks without preamble. “Rulers and dignitaries of Khorvaire, I have asked you to come here for a simple, but grave, reason. I needed to warn and inform you that war is once more upon us.”
There is an instant hubbub, with raised voices and loud questions. The young girl raises her hands and continues, almost shouting above the others. “Please! Let me finish! This war comes not from within, as with the Last War, but from beyond. Far beyond. The gates between our world and Xoriat, the plane of Madness, which the Gatekeeper druids of the Shadow Marches sundered from Eberron at the time of the daelkyr-Dhakaani war, have reopened. As I speak, the hordes of Xoriat are entering this world.”
She indicates the Angels, who have been waiting silently nearby – and drawing suspicious glances from some of the ambassadors. “The Guardian Angels of Sharn, whom some of you have met and presumably all of you have heard of, have already been involved in fighting this invasion and know much more about this matter. They – and I – will try to answer your questions as best we can.”
While everyone in the chamber turns to look at them, Nameless transmits to his companions over the telepathic bond he had set up earlier, “Remember, we let Gareth do the talking. Anything anyone thinks we should say, we discuss over the link. And Gareth, be careful what you say.”
As he is transmitting the message, a voice speaks from among the assembled monarchs and ambassadors. “I, for one, am very curious about how something like this came to pass. Perhaps one of the Angels would care to explain?” The speaker is Queen Aurala, and even though her tone and expression are neutral, her gaze is cold and suspicious.
Gareth quickly begins to explain what has occurred, being careful not to touch upon the Angels’ involvement with the opening of the gates, especially that of Nameless (which the Angels telepathically decide will only cause more confusion if expanded upon).
When he finishes, Aurala speaks first again, raising her voice over the many others who begin to ask questions. “And what proof do you have of this supposed incursion?”
Nameless considers throwing off his disguise and revealing the power of his dragonmark, but restrains himself. Gareth, looking slightly surprised, says politely, “Queen Aurala, I give you my word as a paladin of the Silver Flame that what I have just related is true.”
“And…,” says Aurala smoothly and pointedly, indicating without direct statement that such a promise is meaningless.
Gareth hesitates, and before he can reply, Jaela says, “If his word is not good enough, I can vouch for Gareth. My own divinations and consultations with the Silver Flame, as well as more mundane methods of gathering information, reveal that this is true. Xoriat is here, whether we believe it or not, and the only thing left to decide is how to survive the coming assault.”
Aurala opens her mouth, her expression unconvinced, but this time another voice interrupts. The burly figure of King Boranel, who has sat silently all this time, speaks firmly. “I believe the Keeper. And Gareth. Not only do I trust Jaela and the Angels,” he adds with a nod in the direction of the adventurers, “But I have heard reports that something very strange is afoot, and this meeting answers some of my questions.” He chuckles deeply, with a rumble which reveals one reason why he is known as the Brelish Bear. “I sincerely doubt, Aurala, that you are as completely clueless as you make yourself out to be.”
Aurala flushes slightly, but she is cut off again by an unexpected voice, very different from that of the Brelish monarch’s. Sora Teraza says, from her seat besides her sister’s towering form, “Jaela and the Angels speak truth. Even as we speak, the gates of Xoriat are opening across Khorvaire. Their coming is fated, as those with eyes to see already know.” She lifts her withered head and her blind gaze moves across those gathered there, causing expressions of surprise and often revulsion. “You are wise, King Boranel,” she concludes.
Boranel nods calmly, though his face shows faint surprise at support from this quarter. “Thank you.” As some of those present bristle slightly at this interchange, Faena Graymorn says, “As some have already said, Xoriat is invading. I am here on behalf of the greatpine Oalian, leader of the Wardens of the Wood, to say that this danger is true. And it is not only from beyond that the danger comes. There is movement in Khyber and the aberrations of this world are preparing to aid their brethren from Xoriat. The bound daelkyr stir.”
Her speech causes some confusion, especially since most of those present have no real idea what the daelkyr are. But at least one of the leaders knows precisely what she speaks of. The Lhesh Haruuc brings his mailed fists together, causing the spiked armor without which he is never seen to rattle, and growls, “The daelkyr! Their invasion from Xoriat was the cause of the fall of Dhakaan!” He growls again and continues, “The dirgesingers of Darguun warned me that some calamity was coming, but I had hoped they were wrong. So be it! If Xoriat comes, whether we stand alone or not, Darguun will fight!”
Boranel studies the hobgoblin for a moment and then turns to Jaela. “Lhesh’s words raise a question for me. Is it simply that you wished to warn us of this situation, Jaela, or is there something more? After all, a warning would not need all of us to be assembled here, for the first time since the Thronehold Accords. Did you have greater plans?”
“Hopes more than plans,” says the Keeper. “Though a simple warning message would not have been heeded by all of you, and sending it could cause other problems, I primarily wished to see if the nations of Khorvaire can stand together against this threat.”
There is silence for a few seconds, and then Aurala speaks. “Are you suggesting a political or military coalition? In view of the wounds left by the Last War, and the precarious situation of power in Khorvaire, I can hardly see ho…”
The Queen of Aundair is apparently not fated to make herself heard very effectively at this meeting. As she is speaking, a number of those present cry out in surprise and alarm, pointing in different directions – “There is something there! Something invisible!”
Nameless, aided by his arcane sight and by far the most knowledgeable about arcane matters in the room, immediately identifies what he sees and raises his harsh voice above the hubbub. “They are scrying sensors! Four of them!”
As confusion swirls around the room and people leap to their feet, the alienist sees the sensors wink out. A second later, he smiles viciously. “We’ve got aberrations teleporting in! Lots of them! Everyone get out of the room. You have twenty seconds.”
“Twenty seconds? Ah, the greater anticipate teleportation! You’re a genius!” chuckles Korm, unsheathing his blade and casting a spell, “We can surprise the hell out of them!” Six says nothing, unsnapping his spiked chain as shadows swirl around his form. “Cedric! Get Jaela out!” snaps Gareth, clicking his fingers and causing the Endless Blade to emerge. Luna simply laughs and transforms, causing a huge tendriculos to appear where she is.
The people already streaming out of the chamber take one look at the gigantic plant and hurry their steps. Even so, they move too slowly for Nameless, who rises into the air above them, speaking in a tone which one might use for particularly slow children. “Move faster, or you’ll die in seventeen … sixteen … they’re teleporting in four groups … fourteen … thirteen … coming in here, here, there and there. Twenty aberrations … eleven … ten … four are large. I presume at least one beholder … eight … seven … maybe up to four, so we’ll lose some abilities, but if we spread out, they can’t get us all … five … four …”
By this point, the huge hall is almost empty. Jaela, being chivvied out by Cedric, looks back as she exits and says, “Be careful! We will return with help!” A step behind them, Sora Maenya looks almost mournfully back at the Angels and then sighs and follows her blind sister out of the door, closing it behind them.
Which leaves only the Angels and three other figures. Lhesh Haruuc, a saw-edged sword in his hands, grins in anticipation. Near him, Boranel throws off his cloak and draws his own sword, grunting wryly, “This is more exercise than I expected to get on this trip!” The third, darkly saturnine figure, says nothing, but the expression on Kaius III’s face reveals only cold determination. As everyone takes up different positions according to Nameless' instructions, the Angels continuing to cast spells and the monarchs to drink potions in preparation, the alienist counts down the moments until the attackers will arrive, “… two … one … now!”
On the dot, twenty shapes appear, in four discrete groups. Eight of them are dolgaunts, poised and ready with pinkish-purple tentacles raised to strike. Another eight are mind flayers, four of them with the amputated tentacles set with dragonshards which indicate spellcasting ability. And floating just above each pair of illithids and dolgaunts is the bloated ovoid of a beholder, central eye wide and smaller eyes ready to blast those around them.
The aberrations are clearly ready for combat, and Nameless’ arcane sight, in the split second before a beholder’s anti-magic gaze suppresses it, reveals a number of magical auras. Their positioning is flawless, the conical anti-magic fields of the beholders aimed so as to sweep vast swathes of the room and rob those situated there of their magical abilities and items, while they leave their allies untouched and able to attack. The mind flayers are ready to unleash their spells and mind blasts into the areas the anti-magic fields do not cover, while the dolgrims will either protect them or attack those nearby. In combination with the awesome power of the forty eyebeams that the four beholders can use simultaneously, and appearing in a room full of surprised people attempting to flee, it is the perfect recipe for a massacre.
Or it would have been if they had appeared twenty seconds ago, as they would have except for Nameless’ presence. Instead, they appear in a chamber where their enemies are prepared for them and know exactly where they will be. And these enemies consist of the Guardian Angels and three of the deadliest swordsmen in all Khorvaire. It is a massacre, only not quite how the aberrations had planned.
Nameless, caught near the edge of one of the anti-magic cones, runs nimbly for the edge, shouting, “Take the beholders down first!” Near him, Gareth frowns as the gaze of a beholder washes over him too, causing the Endless Blade to disappear with a cry of, “I f*cking hate thi…!” The paladin snaps back at the alienist, “I can’t reach them from the ground,” and then charges a nearby group of aberrations, calling, “Luna, Korm – the beholders are all yours!”
Luna, suddenly back in shifter form, growls, “One second!” as she runs across the opposite side of the room. As she emerges into an unaffected area, her form twists and changes, expanding instantly into the tendriculos that she was a second ago. She turns, tentacles waving and casting, and an empowered flame strike slams down on a beholder and the dolgaunts and mind flayers below it. As it staggers, a swift arc of lightning leaps from it to the mind flayer spellcaster below. The mind flayer drops without a sound, while the corpse of the beholder tilts over and floats above it.
Across the room, the flaming ruin of another beholder floats above the charred corpses of a dolgaunt and a mind flayer, as Nameless lowers his hand. As the two survivors of that group step back in surprise and shock, Gareth is among them. They are still within an anti-magic zone, so he lacks any obvious weapons, but the paladin doesn’t let that stop him. He barrels into the mind flayer, smashing his fist up under its tentacles and cramming it partly down its mouth as he bears it backwards. The mind flayer gurgles in fear and fury and strikes at Gareth with its tentacles, but there is little it can do within an area where its magical powers do not apply. And then, as their momentum bears the pair backwards, it feels itself driven out of the anti-magic field and its eyes light up with hope, as it prepares to mind blast this rash attacker. For all of half a second, as the Endless Blade springs back into existence, extending instantly from the metal hand shoved up under the mind flayer’s jaw and shooting through its skull and out the back.
Behind Gareth, the remaining dolgaunt lets out a cry of fury and steps forward, tentacles raised over his exposed back. And then it staggers back as something rips painfully across its back. Spinning around, the dolgaunt sees a strange shape wreathed in shadow, a second before Six’s chain punches through its unoccupied eye socket into the brain beyond.
Korm, slightly slower to react, turns and flaps the leathery cloak-like wings which he grew seconds ago to head towards a third beholder. It attempts to spin in mid-air and bring its gaze to bear on him, but then roars in pain and careens wildly as the Gatekeeper drops a swift flame strike on it first. Before it can recover, Korm is above it, and he simply lets himself drop, sword first. As the beholder reflexively rolls its eye upwards, the Gatekeeper buries his blade, forged from the heart of a meteor for precisely such moments, almost hilt-deep into it. His target thrashes wildly and then goes limp. Korm rips his sword free and brandishes it, still balancing on the floating corpse, and roars an orcish war-cry.
One of the mind flayers below raises a hand to unleash a spell, and then lurches sideways with a gurgling scream as a jagged blade almost takes its head from its body. A second blow completes the job and it slumps to the ground as its head rolls away. “You should have stayed in Xoriat!” says the Lhesh Haruuc contemptuously. Near him, Kaius casually cuts a dolgaunt in two and then sweeps his sword in an arc, sending the mind flayer it was protecting into hurried retreat, and right into the waiting blade of Boranel, which quickly dispatches the surprised creature.
In seconds, half the attacking force has been destroyed. The remaining mind flayers desperately hurl spells and mind blasts, while the dolgaunts try to protect them, but all to no avail. Even the last beholder, rapidly firing its eyebeams all around it, can do little before it floats lifeless like its brethren.
Only seconds later, Luna’s giant tentacle wraps around the last survivor of the battle, a mind flayer, and she lifts it into her mouth. Korm, who was charging it, growls as he sees his quarry taken, and leaps after it. As the unfortunate creature struggles to keep from being pulled into the tendriculos’ giant maw, the Gatekeeper barrels into it and propels both of them through. They land with a splash in the giant pool of paralyzing acid which counts as a stomach for Luna’s current form, and the mind flayer immediately goes rigid. Korm, protected from the acid and the paralysis by his spells, grins ferociously and grabs it.
The others move quickly up to see this strange sight, while Luna grabs at her lower lip and gurgles, trying not to shut her mouth, “Heyy, Kohm – you shtupid awk … get owt!” Ignoring her, Korm punches the paralyzed mind flayer and shoves its head under the surface of the acid.
“What in the Flame is he doing?” asks Gareth.
Nameless, having floated a few feet off the ground to get a better view, chuckles, “I believe he’s drowning the mind flayer in Luna’s stomach juices!”
Six hears a louder chuckle behind him and turns to see Boranel cleaning his sword. “Are you people always like this?” asks the Brelish monarch. “Haydith told me many stories, but now I see it …,” he shakes his head, leaving the sentence uncompleted.
“They are,” says Six succinctly, before looking back as a satisfied Korm calls up to Luna, “Just transform back to shifter. That will pop us out. A real druid,” he chuckles, “Would know that!”
Luna snorts disgustedly, flips him off with a tentacle, and proceeds to do so, causing a dripping Korm and a very dead mind flayer to appear on the floor beside her. The Gatekeeper beams in satisfaction. “Now that – was awesome!”**
“Yes, it was,” agrees Boranel. “And a number of people owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Oh,” says Luna, face lighting up at the prospect, “I just realized that. Damn!”
Which is precisely what Cedric and Sora Maenya say as they run in a second later, followed by a dozen Throne Wardens, and stop to look at the scene of carnage. “DAMN!”
* And his player says to me, “Bastard! You did this just to mess with me!”
** And it was. The entire PC party managed to take no damage. Possibly a first for the campaign, and certainly for any fight we’ve played out in detail.
Korm quickly relays the message to Luna and Six and then replies, “Yes. Survived. Mostly. Found Khesavuthir. Nasty black dragon whupped our asses. Teleportation is unreliable there. Back in Khorvaire. Will return to Io’lokar when we can.”
When he is done, Luna says, “So she couldn’t find Nameless with a sending. I wonder if he’s dead.”
“We’ll know once Jaela attempts to bring him and Gareth back,” says Six.
“If she does,” points out Korm. “But we need to go find out. Let’s leave.”
. . .
Only seconds later, Korm appears outside the Cathedral of the Silver Flame in Flamekeep, startling the temple guards and functionaries as well as the line of pilgrims waiting to enter and those exiting. Weapons are drawn, but after some quick explanation (and the extraction of Six and Luna from a portable hole, an acolyte is dispatched to inform the Keeper and check if the three strange-looking individuals are to be allowed to meet her.
In a couple of minutes, another acolyte arrives at the door to lead the trio in. He leads them in a different direction to the one they took on their previous visit, and as they pass through various corridors and hallways, the Angels notice that there is significantly more traffic here than was the case in the area where they met Jaela. As usual, most of those they pass look at them with some surprise and open curiosity. As the minutes pass, Luna grunts, “So are we there yet?”
“Actually, yes,” says the acolyte, indicating an open doorway. Eight heavily armored guards stand at attention outside. And waiting within, to the trio’s surprise, is not Jaela but a pair of men. Both wear the religious garb of high-ranking clergy, while one wears the trappings of a cardinal of the Church.
The latter studies the Angels keenly for a second and then a smile flashes across his saturnine face, as he says, “Please, be seated. I believe you are here to speak to the Keeper. I am Cardinal Krozen. May I know your business with her?”
The Angels exchange glances and then Korm says, “Umm, no! We have business with only her.”
Krozen’s face darkens slightly, but his tones remain polite. “I realize that. And, as head of the College of Cardinals, it is my duty to know of whatever business the Keeper is engaged in. Please answer my questions and then, when you have done so to my satisfaction, you will be taken to her.”
Six shakes his head impatiently. “No! Now go get her!”
This time there is no mistaking Krozen’s anger. “Insolence!” He barks. “I should have you clapped in chains for this!” Luna, who has been scowling in his direction, loudly asks the others, “Shall I flame strike him?”
Krozen’s eyes go wide in shock and then fury. “Guards!” he bellows, causing those waiting outside to begin to troop in, weapons in hand.
Before Luna can respond with her customary violence, Korm quickly grabs her by the shoulder. Six looks at them and then back at Krozen, before saying, “You’ll thank us for this! This’ll be the happiest moment of your next few months.”
Korm chuckles, “I don’t know. He’ll probably be pretty depressed about the daelkyr invasion, but after that they might be okay.”
As the guards look confusedly at the cardinal for orders, the man beside him hurriedly begins whispering into his ear. The speech is inaudible to anyone on the other side of the room, or to anyone on the other side of the room and not possessing the inhuman senses of the three Angels. All three clearly hear him cautioning Krozen that these people are favored by Jaela and she has ordered them to be sent to her as soon as they arrive. “Wait,” says Korm promptly, “She wants to meet us and you’re holding us up?”
“Yeah,” growls Luna. “She’s not going to be happy!”
Krozen and his ally first look surprised at the comments and that the Angels know what they are saying, and then slightly uncomfortable at the situation. Deciding this is a good time, Six points out, “Listen, cardinal. Whatever we have to tell the Keeper, she will share most of it with you, I guess. And if you try to restrain us, we will have to use violence, and you don’t have enough guards here to handle even one of us. Let us go to Jaela and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
Krozen actually opens and closes his mouth twice before he is able to answer. Luckily, that seems to give him enough time to make up his mind. After the second time, he finally speaks through slightly gritted teeth to say, “Very well. You shall be taken to the Keeper.” The cardinal gestures to the man who brought the three here, who has been looking warily at the scene from behind the guards. The acolyte’s eyes widen and then he nods resignedly.
“Good,” is all Six says as he rises and leads the others out of the room, Luna giving Krozen an insouciant wave on the way out.
The acolyte leads them quickly away, staying as far ahead as he can without seeming to be running away from the Angels. Luckily for him, within a minute they are met by the original acolyte who had left the Angels at the main gate, seemingly confused by their disappearance. Their current guide swiftly hands them over and departs.
A few minutes later, the Angels are ushered into the presence of Jaela. This time she is not alone but with a number of people present, evidently engaged in delegating certain responsibilities. Or, more precisely, watching as the figure next to her does so, adding a few words as needed. It takes the Angels a few moments to recognize this individual, spotless in gleaming plate-mail bearing the insignia of the Silver Flame. Korm grins broadly as he realizes who it is, “Cedric?”
Cedric smiles back at the Gatekeeper and lifts a cautioning finger. “No cheap cracks, you!” Then he gestures at his garb and indicates Jaela. “This is all her fault!” Some of those standing around them look mildly horrified, but Jaela simply smiles slightly. Then she frowns. “Where are Gareth and Nameless? Are they all right?”
“Can we speak privately?” asks Six.
“Certainly. Give us a few moments,” the Keeper replies, before turning to the others. “You know your duties.” They nod and bow on the way out, leaving only Cedric behind. “So,” he says, “What did Gareth do now?”
The Angels quickly explain what has happened. Though Jaela says nothing to interrupt them, she is clearly horrified. Cedric takes things with more equanimity, saying simply, “I’ve got to say that I have been expecting something like this for months now. Jaela, perhaps you can do something for them?”
“Certainly. I would not easily ask the Flame to return someone from the dead, but for Gareth – and Nameless – I shall. I have not prepared the appropriate spells today, but I shall speak to the Flame immediately about what method shall be best.”
While the Angels wait, Jaela casts a divination and asks, “What is the best way to bring Gareth back from the dead?”
As she awaits a response, Six receives a sending in a familiar, if somewhat unexpected, voice. Oh, great! he thinks. Unfortunately, that makes perfect sense!
Jaela, meanwhile, opens her eyes with a surprised look on her face. “They are both alive. And with…”
“…Mordain the Fleshweaver,” completes Six. “He just contacted me to come and collect them.”
* * *
The previous day…
Gareth opens his eyes and squints blearily at the comparatively bright light. It seems to flicker and he feels something sticky on his eyelids – and actually all around him – and it takes him a few seconds to realize exactly what is. The paladin is suspended within a thick and faintly greenish fluid, contained within a giant vat made of glass or some other transparent material. Though the liquid is well over his head, Gareth finds that he has no trouble breathing. He looks down to see that he is naked and has both of his hands intact. Where am I? Gareth wonders, finding his thoughts difficult to form.
Then he focuses on the voice which has been speaking and looks up to meet the cold and unblinking gaze of two gray eyes belonging to the figure standing outside the vat. The skin pulled tightly around them over their owner’s skull-like visage doesn’t even twitch as the harsh, raspy voice continues, in a slightly peevish tone. “…inconvenient of you to die so quickly! I had assumed that would happen eventually, but not so soon. Now I shall have to go to my backup clones!”
Mordain the Fleshweaver looks back and forth between Gareth and Nameless, floating in a vat nearby, ignoring the other vats within which exact facsimiles of Six, Korm and Luna float with eyes closed. He sighs. “Very well. Since you are here, there is little to be done. Sleep now.” As he turns away, darkness again envelops Nameless and Gareth.
* * *
When Gareth and Nameless next awake, they are lying naked on slabs of stone in the same chamber from which they had last departed Mordain’s home a month and a half ago. As they sit up, Mordain’s harsh voice greets them.
“Your companions are here,” says the Fleshweaver as he walks between the slabs. “I shall bring them here to take you away.” He lifts a tentacle-wreathed hand and then pauses and lowers it. “I see the two of you have developed dragonmarks,” he says, looking pointedly at the colored whorls on the paladin’s and alienist’s new bodies. “I would have kept you here and studied them further if I had the time, but I do not. Another time.” Then he gestures, says a word, and disappears. A second later, a glowing green portal about a hand-span wide appears where he had been and his voice warns, “Wait here and don’t go anywhere.”
“Where would I go?” Nameless asks rhetorically as the portal disappears, sitting up and lowering himself to the ground. I was right about the clones.
Doing so as well, Gareth looks at him quizzically. “Do you also now remember everything that he did to us the …?”
“…last time we were here?” Nameless nods. “Yes. I presume he lacked the time – or perhaps the inclination – to change our memories again.” He shrugs. “Not that it matters. What are we going to do? Fight him in his own home with no weapons or spells? Not that I feel a great need to fight Mordain anyway.”
Gareth frowns. “For now. But he is completely evil and at some point we need to …”
He doesn’t complete the sentence, as Mordain reappears, with Six, Korm and Luna around him. The Fleshweaver gestures at the two standing beside the slabs. “There. Take them with you.”
Korm beams at his recently lost companions as he steps towards them. “Nice to see you both still around. We were trying to work out who was going to tell your family, Gareth, and I drew the short straw. I was not looking forward to telling your mother that you got yourself ate by a dragon.”
“Yes. That was foolish,” opines Mordain. “Try not to do it again. Now, please depart.”
“Can we get some clothes for them?” asks Luna. “I don’t care, but popping back to the Cathedral with these two naked won’t look good.” She looks at them appraisingly and grins. “Especially you, Nameless. Damn, man – eat something!”
Six silently reaches into a backpack and pulls out some clothes. As he reaches for them, Gareth says hesitantly, “And I lost my hand. Can you do something about that, Mordain?”
The Fleshweaver sighs, his unbreathing lips emitting no sound, and then reaches into a pouch and extracts what looks like a perfect copy of the metallic hand that he had gifted Gareth earlier. “I have this, but you have no sword to place in it.”
As silently as before, Six reaches into his backpack and produces an object wrapped in a cloth. Which is identified even before he unwraps it, due to the loudly complaining voice which says, “About time! I’ve been stuck in that f*cking bag for so long that…”
As the warforged unwraps it, the Endless Blade shouts joyfully, “Gareth! You dumb f*ck! You’re alive!” Then, as Mordain steps forward to take it, there is silence, and then a muttered, “Motherf*cker!”
Ignoring the sword, Mordain turns to Gareth. “You want the hand? And the sword attached within it like before?”
“Umm, Gareth!” says the Blade urgently, its tone both concerned and wheedling. “I think it would be much more convenient if you just use me without …”
Ignoring it, Gareth replies to Mordain, “Yes, and yes.”
“Very well,” says Mordain. “Stretch out your arm on that slab.” He flicks his wrist slightly and part of the ring of tentacles that extend from it flow together and reshape themselves into what looks like a serrated blade of some pinkish metal.
As the Fleshweaver grasps Gareth’s hand, Korm says, “That looks like it would hurt. And take some time. Would you prefer it if I did it, Gareth?”
The paladin looks at the six-inch long and jagged blade attached to Mordain’s arm and then at Korm’s gleaming sword. “Yes, I think that would be better. Mordain?”
The Fleshweaver shrugs and steps out of the way. “One of you should heal him once it is amputated.”
Korm steps into his place, blade at the ready. “Okay, Gareth – this is going to hurt you more than it does me.”
A few seconds later, a pale Gareth is looking down at the metal hand attached to the end of his bloodied wrist. “Good,” says Mordain, before reaching for the Endless Blade. The Fleshweaver says a couple of words and Gareth feels the metal hand go dead and inactive, before Mordain presses on the palm. A large vertical slot appears in it, which Mordain places the hilt of the sword within, before speaking a couple of words again. The slot slides shut, encasing the hilt, and Gareth feels the hand resume its functioning.
Mordain looks down at the hand and then up and around at the Guardian Angels, the five of whom surround him. “I can,” he says in a tone which is faintly informational, “Deactivate any of my creations at will. Any of my creations.”
Sh*t!
“Now,” he continues, “Please depart. I hope I shall not see you any time soon.”
* * *
“…and so,” concludes Jaela, “I will be very pleased to have all of you present at the meeting tomorrow. You can stay at the Cathedral tonight and we will all leave tomorrow for Thronehold in the morning.”
The Angels ask a few questions about the meeting and the manner in which they will be going there, and then finally, Gareth says, “Keeper, I am a little embarrassed to make this request, but would it be possible for me to obtain some armor from the Cathedral’s stores? I lost mine – and almost all of my belongings – when I was slain by the dragon.”
“Certainly,” says Jaela, “But we will not be able to provide magical armor of the quality you had at such short notice. Cedric’s, for example, took nearly a month to construct.”
The Angels glance at Cedric, leaning against a wall nearby and resplendent in his glittering silver armor. He scratches his chin in thought and then says, “You know what, Jaela – let him take this one,” and taps his breastplate. Jaela looks surprised and Cedric turns to explain to Gareth, “The Keeper gave me this suit in keeping with my new … um, position. I got a promotion today.”
Jaela nods. “Yes. I needed someone I can trust. I have appointed Cedric Champion of the Silver Flame and high commander of the armies of Thrane.”
As Gareth’s eyes bulge slightly at the news*, Cedric grins and says, “See – it even sounds silly. And this thing really looks silly on me. I feel like a lighthouse! Gareth can get better use of it. He likes looking like a lighthouse!” Jaela stares at him again for a moment and then sighs. “All right – it’s your armor now, to do with as you wish.”
“Excellent! Come on, Gareth – let’s get you changed.” The two paladins leave and return a short time later, with Gareth in the silver armor. Cedric is back in his old, battered black armor, looking much happier and somehow giving the impression of having grown a day’s worth of stubble in the interim. “Ah!” he says with satisfaction, before smacking Gareth across the back with a ringing sound. “That’s much better!”
“Now that everyone is here,” says Six, “I need to explain some more of what I learned.” He then proceeds to relate what Xagygyrag told him about the dimensional seals and the use of blood magic and death energy in activating them. While Korm and Luna have heard the details before, the other four people in the room have not, and they listen raptly to Six’s detailed narration.
When Six is done, Jaela says slowly, “I … see. This knowledge is very valuable, but I’m not sure what we can do with it. I shall need to commune with the Flame about it.”
“Have you told anyone else?” asks Nameless.
“Nobody but the people in this room,” says Six.
“I suggest that you keep it to this number,” says Cedric, and Jaela nods.
“The Gatekeepers will have to be informed,” says Korm decisively, and the others nod.
“Yes,” says Jaela. “I am interested to hear their response. Very interested.” Then she takes a deep breath and sighs, for a few moments seeming much older than she is. “But, for now, we have something else to focus on. Tomorrow…”
* * * * *
Late the next morning, the diplomatic contingent from Thrane – consisting of Jaela, Cedric, the Guardian Angels, and a number of people from the Cathedral – patiently awaits the arrival of the leaders and emissaries from the other nations of Khorvaire. Thronehold castle, the ruling seat of the queens and kings of Galifar, looms over them. Stern-faced guards bearing the livery of House Deneith watch them from a distance, keeping unceasing vigil upon these grounds as they – the Throne Wardens – are sworn to do until Galifar is once more knit into one.
Jaela shivers slightly as they wait in the mid-winter sun and pulls her cloak tighter around her thin frame. Cedric looks down at her immediately. “Are you cold?”
The Keeper shakes her head and replies quietly, “My connection with the Flame is weaker once I leave the Cathedral. It’s not a comfortable feeling.”
Cedric nods with unusual gravity. “I know.” He glances at the Angels standing around them. “Remember, if anything goes wrong, protect Jaela and get her out of there first.”
“Certainly,” replies Gareth, “We’ll make…”
The sound of trumpets cuts him off as a contingent of people approaches them, bearing the flag and livery of Karrnath, with another group approaching from a slightly different direction, under the sign of the Brelish bear.
“And so,” says Jaela softly, stepping forward, “We begin.”
Over the course of the next hour, multiple delegations arrive, led by and featuring the absolute height of Khorvaire’s ruling powers. King Boranel of Breland, King Kaius III of Karrnath, and Queen Aurala of Aundair join Jaela in representing the remaining four of Galifar’s five original nations. They are joined by Lhesh Haruuc, whose goblinoids carved out the independent nation of Darguun during the Last War, and two of the Daughters of Sora Kell – the blind dusk hag seer Sora Teraza and the annis hag warrior Sora Maenya – who took Droaam from Breland in a similar fashion. None of the actual monarchs of the various nations are present, sending representatives such as the elderly half-elven druid Faena Graymorn, a member of the Wardens of the Wood, speaking for the Eldeen Reaches. Similarly, ambassadors are present from Zilargo, the Mror Holds, Valenar, Q’barra, the Lhazaar Principalities, the Shadow Marches, and the Talenta Plains.
As may be expected with such an eclectic collection of people, many of whom bear the scars of the Last War if not more ancient enmities, there is a significant amount of bristling and posturing, but the combination of Jaela’s diplomacy and the curiosity of the attendees regarding her request for a meeting helps minimize tensions. In a surprisingly short time, the leading representatives of each delegation are gathered in the great hall of the castle.
Once everyone is seated and ready, Jaela rises and speaks without preamble. “Rulers and dignitaries of Khorvaire, I have asked you to come here for a simple, but grave, reason. I needed to warn and inform you that war is once more upon us.”
There is an instant hubbub, with raised voices and loud questions. The young girl raises her hands and continues, almost shouting above the others. “Please! Let me finish! This war comes not from within, as with the Last War, but from beyond. Far beyond. The gates between our world and Xoriat, the plane of Madness, which the Gatekeeper druids of the Shadow Marches sundered from Eberron at the time of the daelkyr-Dhakaani war, have reopened. As I speak, the hordes of Xoriat are entering this world.”
She indicates the Angels, who have been waiting silently nearby – and drawing suspicious glances from some of the ambassadors. “The Guardian Angels of Sharn, whom some of you have met and presumably all of you have heard of, have already been involved in fighting this invasion and know much more about this matter. They – and I – will try to answer your questions as best we can.”
While everyone in the chamber turns to look at them, Nameless transmits to his companions over the telepathic bond he had set up earlier, “Remember, we let Gareth do the talking. Anything anyone thinks we should say, we discuss over the link. And Gareth, be careful what you say.”
As he is transmitting the message, a voice speaks from among the assembled monarchs and ambassadors. “I, for one, am very curious about how something like this came to pass. Perhaps one of the Angels would care to explain?” The speaker is Queen Aurala, and even though her tone and expression are neutral, her gaze is cold and suspicious.
Gareth quickly begins to explain what has occurred, being careful not to touch upon the Angels’ involvement with the opening of the gates, especially that of Nameless (which the Angels telepathically decide will only cause more confusion if expanded upon).
When he finishes, Aurala speaks first again, raising her voice over the many others who begin to ask questions. “And what proof do you have of this supposed incursion?”
Nameless considers throwing off his disguise and revealing the power of his dragonmark, but restrains himself. Gareth, looking slightly surprised, says politely, “Queen Aurala, I give you my word as a paladin of the Silver Flame that what I have just related is true.”
“And…,” says Aurala smoothly and pointedly, indicating without direct statement that such a promise is meaningless.
Gareth hesitates, and before he can reply, Jaela says, “If his word is not good enough, I can vouch for Gareth. My own divinations and consultations with the Silver Flame, as well as more mundane methods of gathering information, reveal that this is true. Xoriat is here, whether we believe it or not, and the only thing left to decide is how to survive the coming assault.”
Aurala opens her mouth, her expression unconvinced, but this time another voice interrupts. The burly figure of King Boranel, who has sat silently all this time, speaks firmly. “I believe the Keeper. And Gareth. Not only do I trust Jaela and the Angels,” he adds with a nod in the direction of the adventurers, “But I have heard reports that something very strange is afoot, and this meeting answers some of my questions.” He chuckles deeply, with a rumble which reveals one reason why he is known as the Brelish Bear. “I sincerely doubt, Aurala, that you are as completely clueless as you make yourself out to be.”
Aurala flushes slightly, but she is cut off again by an unexpected voice, very different from that of the Brelish monarch’s. Sora Teraza says, from her seat besides her sister’s towering form, “Jaela and the Angels speak truth. Even as we speak, the gates of Xoriat are opening across Khorvaire. Their coming is fated, as those with eyes to see already know.” She lifts her withered head and her blind gaze moves across those gathered there, causing expressions of surprise and often revulsion. “You are wise, King Boranel,” she concludes.
Boranel nods calmly, though his face shows faint surprise at support from this quarter. “Thank you.” As some of those present bristle slightly at this interchange, Faena Graymorn says, “As some have already said, Xoriat is invading. I am here on behalf of the greatpine Oalian, leader of the Wardens of the Wood, to say that this danger is true. And it is not only from beyond that the danger comes. There is movement in Khyber and the aberrations of this world are preparing to aid their brethren from Xoriat. The bound daelkyr stir.”
Her speech causes some confusion, especially since most of those present have no real idea what the daelkyr are. But at least one of the leaders knows precisely what she speaks of. The Lhesh Haruuc brings his mailed fists together, causing the spiked armor without which he is never seen to rattle, and growls, “The daelkyr! Their invasion from Xoriat was the cause of the fall of Dhakaan!” He growls again and continues, “The dirgesingers of Darguun warned me that some calamity was coming, but I had hoped they were wrong. So be it! If Xoriat comes, whether we stand alone or not, Darguun will fight!”
Boranel studies the hobgoblin for a moment and then turns to Jaela. “Lhesh’s words raise a question for me. Is it simply that you wished to warn us of this situation, Jaela, or is there something more? After all, a warning would not need all of us to be assembled here, for the first time since the Thronehold Accords. Did you have greater plans?”
“Hopes more than plans,” says the Keeper. “Though a simple warning message would not have been heeded by all of you, and sending it could cause other problems, I primarily wished to see if the nations of Khorvaire can stand together against this threat.”
There is silence for a few seconds, and then Aurala speaks. “Are you suggesting a political or military coalition? In view of the wounds left by the Last War, and the precarious situation of power in Khorvaire, I can hardly see ho…”
The Queen of Aundair is apparently not fated to make herself heard very effectively at this meeting. As she is speaking, a number of those present cry out in surprise and alarm, pointing in different directions – “There is something there! Something invisible!”
Nameless, aided by his arcane sight and by far the most knowledgeable about arcane matters in the room, immediately identifies what he sees and raises his harsh voice above the hubbub. “They are scrying sensors! Four of them!”
As confusion swirls around the room and people leap to their feet, the alienist sees the sensors wink out. A second later, he smiles viciously. “We’ve got aberrations teleporting in! Lots of them! Everyone get out of the room. You have twenty seconds.”
“Twenty seconds? Ah, the greater anticipate teleportation! You’re a genius!” chuckles Korm, unsheathing his blade and casting a spell, “We can surprise the hell out of them!” Six says nothing, unsnapping his spiked chain as shadows swirl around his form. “Cedric! Get Jaela out!” snaps Gareth, clicking his fingers and causing the Endless Blade to emerge. Luna simply laughs and transforms, causing a huge tendriculos to appear where she is.
The people already streaming out of the chamber take one look at the gigantic plant and hurry their steps. Even so, they move too slowly for Nameless, who rises into the air above them, speaking in a tone which one might use for particularly slow children. “Move faster, or you’ll die in seventeen … sixteen … they’re teleporting in four groups … fourteen … thirteen … coming in here, here, there and there. Twenty aberrations … eleven … ten … four are large. I presume at least one beholder … eight … seven … maybe up to four, so we’ll lose some abilities, but if we spread out, they can’t get us all … five … four …”
By this point, the huge hall is almost empty. Jaela, being chivvied out by Cedric, looks back as she exits and says, “Be careful! We will return with help!” A step behind them, Sora Maenya looks almost mournfully back at the Angels and then sighs and follows her blind sister out of the door, closing it behind them.
Which leaves only the Angels and three other figures. Lhesh Haruuc, a saw-edged sword in his hands, grins in anticipation. Near him, Boranel throws off his cloak and draws his own sword, grunting wryly, “This is more exercise than I expected to get on this trip!” The third, darkly saturnine figure, says nothing, but the expression on Kaius III’s face reveals only cold determination. As everyone takes up different positions according to Nameless' instructions, the Angels continuing to cast spells and the monarchs to drink potions in preparation, the alienist counts down the moments until the attackers will arrive, “… two … one … now!”
On the dot, twenty shapes appear, in four discrete groups. Eight of them are dolgaunts, poised and ready with pinkish-purple tentacles raised to strike. Another eight are mind flayers, four of them with the amputated tentacles set with dragonshards which indicate spellcasting ability. And floating just above each pair of illithids and dolgaunts is the bloated ovoid of a beholder, central eye wide and smaller eyes ready to blast those around them.
The aberrations are clearly ready for combat, and Nameless’ arcane sight, in the split second before a beholder’s anti-magic gaze suppresses it, reveals a number of magical auras. Their positioning is flawless, the conical anti-magic fields of the beholders aimed so as to sweep vast swathes of the room and rob those situated there of their magical abilities and items, while they leave their allies untouched and able to attack. The mind flayers are ready to unleash their spells and mind blasts into the areas the anti-magic fields do not cover, while the dolgrims will either protect them or attack those nearby. In combination with the awesome power of the forty eyebeams that the four beholders can use simultaneously, and appearing in a room full of surprised people attempting to flee, it is the perfect recipe for a massacre.
Or it would have been if they had appeared twenty seconds ago, as they would have except for Nameless’ presence. Instead, they appear in a chamber where their enemies are prepared for them and know exactly where they will be. And these enemies consist of the Guardian Angels and three of the deadliest swordsmen in all Khorvaire. It is a massacre, only not quite how the aberrations had planned.
Nameless, caught near the edge of one of the anti-magic cones, runs nimbly for the edge, shouting, “Take the beholders down first!” Near him, Gareth frowns as the gaze of a beholder washes over him too, causing the Endless Blade to disappear with a cry of, “I f*cking hate thi…!” The paladin snaps back at the alienist, “I can’t reach them from the ground,” and then charges a nearby group of aberrations, calling, “Luna, Korm – the beholders are all yours!”
Luna, suddenly back in shifter form, growls, “One second!” as she runs across the opposite side of the room. As she emerges into an unaffected area, her form twists and changes, expanding instantly into the tendriculos that she was a second ago. She turns, tentacles waving and casting, and an empowered flame strike slams down on a beholder and the dolgaunts and mind flayers below it. As it staggers, a swift arc of lightning leaps from it to the mind flayer spellcaster below. The mind flayer drops without a sound, while the corpse of the beholder tilts over and floats above it.
Across the room, the flaming ruin of another beholder floats above the charred corpses of a dolgaunt and a mind flayer, as Nameless lowers his hand. As the two survivors of that group step back in surprise and shock, Gareth is among them. They are still within an anti-magic zone, so he lacks any obvious weapons, but the paladin doesn’t let that stop him. He barrels into the mind flayer, smashing his fist up under its tentacles and cramming it partly down its mouth as he bears it backwards. The mind flayer gurgles in fear and fury and strikes at Gareth with its tentacles, but there is little it can do within an area where its magical powers do not apply. And then, as their momentum bears the pair backwards, it feels itself driven out of the anti-magic field and its eyes light up with hope, as it prepares to mind blast this rash attacker. For all of half a second, as the Endless Blade springs back into existence, extending instantly from the metal hand shoved up under the mind flayer’s jaw and shooting through its skull and out the back.
Behind Gareth, the remaining dolgaunt lets out a cry of fury and steps forward, tentacles raised over his exposed back. And then it staggers back as something rips painfully across its back. Spinning around, the dolgaunt sees a strange shape wreathed in shadow, a second before Six’s chain punches through its unoccupied eye socket into the brain beyond.
Korm, slightly slower to react, turns and flaps the leathery cloak-like wings which he grew seconds ago to head towards a third beholder. It attempts to spin in mid-air and bring its gaze to bear on him, but then roars in pain and careens wildly as the Gatekeeper drops a swift flame strike on it first. Before it can recover, Korm is above it, and he simply lets himself drop, sword first. As the beholder reflexively rolls its eye upwards, the Gatekeeper buries his blade, forged from the heart of a meteor for precisely such moments, almost hilt-deep into it. His target thrashes wildly and then goes limp. Korm rips his sword free and brandishes it, still balancing on the floating corpse, and roars an orcish war-cry.
One of the mind flayers below raises a hand to unleash a spell, and then lurches sideways with a gurgling scream as a jagged blade almost takes its head from its body. A second blow completes the job and it slumps to the ground as its head rolls away. “You should have stayed in Xoriat!” says the Lhesh Haruuc contemptuously. Near him, Kaius casually cuts a dolgaunt in two and then sweeps his sword in an arc, sending the mind flayer it was protecting into hurried retreat, and right into the waiting blade of Boranel, which quickly dispatches the surprised creature.
In seconds, half the attacking force has been destroyed. The remaining mind flayers desperately hurl spells and mind blasts, while the dolgaunts try to protect them, but all to no avail. Even the last beholder, rapidly firing its eyebeams all around it, can do little before it floats lifeless like its brethren.
Only seconds later, Luna’s giant tentacle wraps around the last survivor of the battle, a mind flayer, and she lifts it into her mouth. Korm, who was charging it, growls as he sees his quarry taken, and leaps after it. As the unfortunate creature struggles to keep from being pulled into the tendriculos’ giant maw, the Gatekeeper barrels into it and propels both of them through. They land with a splash in the giant pool of paralyzing acid which counts as a stomach for Luna’s current form, and the mind flayer immediately goes rigid. Korm, protected from the acid and the paralysis by his spells, grins ferociously and grabs it.
The others move quickly up to see this strange sight, while Luna grabs at her lower lip and gurgles, trying not to shut her mouth, “Heyy, Kohm – you shtupid awk … get owt!” Ignoring her, Korm punches the paralyzed mind flayer and shoves its head under the surface of the acid.
“What in the Flame is he doing?” asks Gareth.
Nameless, having floated a few feet off the ground to get a better view, chuckles, “I believe he’s drowning the mind flayer in Luna’s stomach juices!”
Six hears a louder chuckle behind him and turns to see Boranel cleaning his sword. “Are you people always like this?” asks the Brelish monarch. “Haydith told me many stories, but now I see it …,” he shakes his head, leaving the sentence uncompleted.
“They are,” says Six succinctly, before looking back as a satisfied Korm calls up to Luna, “Just transform back to shifter. That will pop us out. A real druid,” he chuckles, “Would know that!”
Luna snorts disgustedly, flips him off with a tentacle, and proceeds to do so, causing a dripping Korm and a very dead mind flayer to appear on the floor beside her. The Gatekeeper beams in satisfaction. “Now that – was awesome!”**
“Yes, it was,” agrees Boranel. “And a number of people owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Oh,” says Luna, face lighting up at the prospect, “I just realized that. Damn!”
Which is precisely what Cedric and Sora Maenya say as they run in a second later, followed by a dozen Throne Wardens, and stop to look at the scene of carnage. “DAMN!”
* And his player says to me, “Bastard! You did this just to mess with me!”
** And it was. The entire PC party managed to take no damage. Possibly a first for the campaign, and certainly for any fight we’ve played out in detail.
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carborundum
Adventurer
AWESOME indeed! That was well worth the wait, Shil!
I bet it was a blast to play too (for the players) - especially after the Xagygyrag debacle! Four beholders! FOUR! And some other stuff - I'm sure those dolgaunts weren't basic CR 2 dolgaunts either
Spellcasting mindflayers ... and did I mention FOUR beholders?!
The mindflayer-drowning will stay with me for a long time to come
**********
What do you mean by "certainly for any fight we’ve played out in detail."
I bet it was a blast to play too (for the players) - especially after the Xagygyrag debacle! Four beholders! FOUR! And some other stuff - I'm sure those dolgaunts weren't basic CR 2 dolgaunts either
Spellcasting mindflayers ... and did I mention FOUR beholders?!The mindflayer-drowning will stay with me for a long time to come
**********
What do you mean by "certainly for any fight we’ve played out in detail."
shilsen
Adventurer
Thanks.
I bet it was a blast to play too (for the players) - especially after the Xagygyrag debacle! Four beholders! FOUR! And some other stuff - I'm sure those dolgaunts weren't basic CR 2 dolgaunts either
This is why I have to use advanced/templated beholders versus these bums
Once Nameless' greater anticipate teleportation gave them the jump on the aberrations, it was all over bar the shouting.The mindflayer-drowning will stay with me for a long time to come
And me too! Every time I think these guys have come up with one of the weirdest ways to beat/kill an enemy, they top it!
With the PCs now in the 15th level range (at the time of the session in the writeup), there are some enemies who are not a challenge at all, in which case I don't bother rolling but just let the players narrate how their PCs kick the crap out of them. This fight we did play out in detail.
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