shilsen
Adventurer
Well, I've been busy as hell with job searching and wrapping up my dissertation (defending on the 18th - woohoo!), but I managed to make enough time to write up the climactic battle. Enjoy ...
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“Luna, become an elemental now—the largest you can be,” snaps Nameless, beginning to cast a spell. As the magic takes hold, he says, “I wish…”
Beside him, Gareth hurriedly casts a protective spell, the paladin’s shape transforming into a stone body, while Six activates the wand inside his metal arm, using a haste on all of the Guardian Angels. Korm calls on the abilities he has drawn in from the various aberrations he has fed on, a cloaker’s wings sprouting from his back even as his hide thickens like a delver and an athach’s poisonous fangs fill his mouth.
None of the changes are as impressive as Luna’s. The druid begins to grow, her body enlarging dramatically and turning into a stony form that stretches ten, twenty, thirty, forty and then fifty feet. Now she towers as high as the tallest of elder elementals, but then Nameless’ wish takes hold, allowing Luna to surpass even the tremendous potential implanted in her by Mordain the Fleshweaver. In seconds, the equivalent of a small hill, a full hundred feet tall and proportionately broad, towers over every combatant on the field, including the dragons. Only Mual-Tar is far larger, but the Chaos-Serpent remains motionless. Luna roars and smashes the huge boulders that pass for her fists onto the ground. “This … is … AWESOME!”
Even the daelkyr lord pauses at the sight, before swiftly sheathing himself in a series of magical protections. His forces do not, however, thousands of aberrations (and tens of thousands of them outside the city surrounding the ziggurat) flying, running, slithering and hopping forward towards the ziggurat.
Near the Angels, most of the befuddled trolls babble in confusion, but two raise their swords and prepare to attack. Luna promptly interposes herself, allowing their blows to bounce harmlessly off her rocky hide. Most of the dragons cast protective spells of their own, but Bhirali opens her mouth to breathe, her insanity causing her to see those near her as her foes. Just as she is about to, the huge gold dragon staggers, Essirise leaping on her and temporarily bearing her down. Bhirali snaps at his attacker and struggles mightily, but Essirise holds on for the moment, though clearly having difficulty. “Do something!” she calls out, “I can’t hold her!”
Gareth tries a break enchantment on Bhirali, but Antaratma’s enchantment is too powerful for the paladin, resisting even Nameless’ swift use of the same spell an instant later. The alienist instantly uses his mastery of destiny to catch the fading magic and alter the probability of its success, but to no avail*. The gold dragon roars in maddened rage, managing to roll Essirise over, pinning her down.
But then, just as hers jaws are about to close on the silver dragon’s now exposed neck, Korm’s hand slaps against Bhirali’s side. The Gatekeeper channels a heal, instantly ending the dragon’s madness. Bhirali blinks once and then hurriedly flings herself off Essirise, babbling apologies in draconic.
“No time for that,” says the relieved silver dragon as she rises. “Get the daelkyr!” she snaps quickly at the Guardian Angels. “We’ll buy you some time!”
“Yes!” growls the clearly embarrassed Bhirali. “Dragons, follow me—for Argonnessen!” She leaps into the air, followed by the other dragons.
Watching them go, Nameless glances at the still confused trolls and says quickly, “Luna, keep them off me for a moment.” The gigantic elemental nods, raising her gigantic fists, but before she strikes, Gareth completes a swift spell, casting a calm emotions that causes the trolls that were trying to attack the alienist to halt and lower their weapons.
“Oh,” says Luna, sounding disappointed, before looking at the daelkyr lord. With a pleased laugh, the giant elemental flows forward, to and up the ziggurat, once more raising her mountainous arms.
Behind her, Six wraps himself more closely in the shadows seeping from his harness. The warforged’s form enlarges dramatically, leaving him standing well over a dozen feet tall. He sweeps his proportionately large spiked chain in a huge arc, ensuring that none of the other trolls can threaten Nameless.
Seizing the opportunity, Nameless completes the modified version of a gate that he had prepared for this moment. Normally, it would not work within the Mournland, but the combination of the daelkyr’s ritual, Nameless’ own connection to this land and to Xoriat, and, most importantly, the subject that he is focusing on has the effect he hoped for. The giant gray hunk of the Madstone that the Angels had stowed away in the icy wastes far to the north of Khorvaire now reappears, embedded in the ground at Nameless’ side.
Antaratma, who had been preparing for Luna’s assault, blinks in first surprise and then rising fury. “You … dare?!” Invisibly and unnoticed by the others on the battlefield, the alienist feels his mind reach out and seize control of the warpstone—or try to, until a mental riposte from Nameless knocks it away**, momentarily claiming control of the warpstone for himself. “Tsk, tsk, Aunty! You know very well by now,” Nameless smiles, “There is very little that I don’t dare.”
As he speaks, the alienist hears a chorus of screams behind him. The dragons, flying parallel to each other, have reached the front row of the advancing aberrations and they breathe all at once. A three hundred foot wide swathe of fire, cold, acid and electricity strikes the creatures. The aberrations are aided by the fact that they are well spread out and gaining substantial cover from the various structures that make up the ring-shaped city around the ziggurat but, even so, the attack instantly kills scores and leaves others critically wounded. Only the combination of a natural resistance to mind-affecting effects and magical protections provided by their masters keeps most of the aberrations in the battle, but many dolgrims throw down their weapons and flee in abject terror.
However, the numbers are utterly against the dragons, and their foes have many weapons at their disposal. While the barrage of missiles which envelops them has little effect, the streams of acid, cones of coruscating sound and other strange attacks are more damaging, as are the magical attacks that dozens of enemy casters unleash. Despite their resistance to magic and other natural (and magical) protections, wounds appear on all of the dragons. The bronze dragon Vorelakun screams and falls out of the air, smoke leaking from the sockets where its eyes had been.
On the ziggurat, Antaratma snarls in frustration at Nameless’ action and then steps forward, his whip lashing out. It strikes Luna’s stony exterior, seeking to drain her life force, but her protective spells and new form protect her. However, there are certain things that she cannot protect herself against. Luna feels the sensation of an instant transformation, some of her natural vitality being changed into an increased agility*** that feels particularly odd in her giant shape.
Even more troublingly, the flying mind flayer members of the Seven—the generals of Antaratma’s forces—are now close enough to use their most powerful spells. Four horrid wiltings explode among the Angels. Even with all their protections, all of them are wounded. The comparatively unprotected trolls are far more badly hurt, only their tremendous vitality preventing any of them from dying instantly.
Ignoring his wounds, Nameless attempts to use the Warpstone to affect the ritual, but this time the swift mental contest goes to Antaratma, who parries the alienist’s mental attempt. The smile which begins to appear on the daelkyr’s face is wiped off an instant later, when Nameless casts a sphere of ultimate destruction, causing a featureless black globe to appear atop the ziggurat. The sphere strikes one of the four pillars and begins to disintegrate the material, incredibly hard though it is.
A moment later, one of Luna’s huge fists smashes into Antaratma. The wounded daelkyr snarls and again strikes the giant elemental, causing her to groan as he further reduces her vitality****.
“Help her, Gareth,” snaps Korm, casting a swift stone to mud spell on Gareth, which substantially heals the paladin’s not-stony form. “I’ll keep the mind flayers off you,” says the Gatekeeper, taking to the air. He charges one of the aberration generals, hacking into its side with the meteoric blade. Just as Korm had hoped, his target and many of the other aberrations in the area focus on him, causing him to smile grimly. For as long as I can.
Behind him, Gareth complies with the command, the angelic wings extending from his armor sending him soaring up the ziggurat’s steps. With a loud cry, the Endless Blade crashes down on the daelkyr, inflicting a deep wound. Even though it begins healing quickly, Antaratma staggers backwards at the impact.
Simultaneously, more horrid wiltings and other spells explode among the Angels clustered at the ziggurat, while Korm, slightly separated from his companions, finds himself defending against multiple magical and physical assaults, that leave the Gatekeeper badly wounded. Some of the trolls go down and so does another dragon, though her three compatriots continue battling on. Despite the tremendous power they can bring to bear, it is clear that the sheer volume and resources of the enemies will overwhelm the small group of attackers at any moment. Especially since most of the aberrations have not even managed to join the battle, particularly those whose teleportation into the area had been hindered by Nameless’ greater anticipate teleportation until now.
Or so it seems, until Six dramatically evens the odds. Figuring that there will never be a more opportune time, the warforged reaches into his backpack, produces the Gate Ring and activates it.
A tremendous wave of arcane power ripples from the artifact, palpable to even the most magically unaware of the combatants on the field. A golden point of light appears some five hundred feet from Six, which rapidly expands into a huge gate, a thousand feet in width, translucent in color and roughly shaped like the outline of a dragon with outspread wings. Smaller portals of a similar shape appear closer at hand, each only a hundred feet away, forming the corners of a square around the Angels and the ziggurat.
Through the giant magical portal one can dimly see the staging area for the troops waiting in Thrane, which promptly begin to pour through. At their head are three figures that the Angels immediately recognize—Cedric in the lead, followed by the Karrnathi bone knight Maddox Kaminaar to his left and their former companion Corven to his right. Behind them hurry hundreds of troops drawn from the Five Nations. For the first time since the beginning of the Last War over a century ago, the forces of Aundair, Breland, Karrnath and Thrane fight side by side against a common foe. Beside them stand goblinoid mercenaries from Darguun, soldiers of the Deneith Blademark, warriors from House Tharashk and Cannith artificers.
Four distinctive figures step through the four smaller gates. The largest of them all hefts her greataxe and looks around, licking her lips in anticipation. Diagonally across from Sora Maenya, a much smaller, robed figure also looks around, though her hood veils her face. Out of the Angels, only Six recognizes Madra Sil Sarin. The third figure is known to all the Angels, the scout Prine from Argonnessen, who smiles worriedly and hurriedly draws his twin blades. So too is the fourth, though he is not one they had expected to see. Tall and muscular, dressed in dark red plate armor and wielding a wickedly serrated blade, King Kaius III of Karrnath salutes the Angels and then lowers the front of his helm into place.
Having done its part, the magical ring in Six’s hand, crafted painstakingly by the most skilled of draconic arcanists in the depths of Argonnessen, crumbles away. So too does the giant gate, but as it breaks apart, some two dozen fragments from it break away to land elsewhere on the battlefield, where they continue to shimmer brightly.
The entire process takes only seconds and then the roar of voices and the clash of arms echoes across the battlefield. The newly arrived troops rip into the clearly stunned aberrations around them. Cedric shouts a command and begins to hack his way towards the ziggurat, the troops behind him following suit while trying to form a broad wedge. Maddox angles slightly away with another contingent, covering one flank, while Corven does the same on the other. Trying to clear a path, Corven triggers a wand, only to have the magic fizzle uselessly. Despite the situation, the artificer half-laughs as he swears and then shouts at the Angels, “You do this to me every time!”
Despite their initial shock, the aberrations quickly fight back, their numbers still substantially dwarfing the five hundred or so troops that the gate let through. The mind flayer generals shout commands to their troops, turning their attention away from the Angels and towards the newcomers. All except the one facing Korm, that is. While Sora Maenya, Kaius and Prine all attack the nearest foes, Madra Sil Sarin disappears in a puff of smoke and reappears in mid-air behind the flying illithid. Before it can even detect her presence, she stabs her short sword right into its skull and hangs on. The mind flayer struggles feebly, clawing at the air before it, but it seems unable to speak or cast any spells.
Antaratma screams in rage and then shouts, “Mual-Tar! Awake!” The Chaos Serpent, however, makes no movement and the only response is Nameless’ harsh laugh as he sends his sphere of ultimate destruction smashing into the same pillar.
The daelkyr glares at the alienist and, once more, engages mentally with him over the warpstone. As he does, however, Nameless completes casting a limited wish, using it to bolster his own intellect, and pushes off Antaratma’s mental grasp. With a swift effort, Nameless unleashes the warpstone’s aberrant power. The stream of silver light that had been calmly flowing up the ziggurat and to the four pillars intensifies in brightness, before swinging wildly like a cracked whip. It strikes a second pillar, causing a spiderweb of deep cracks to cover it.
“Luna—forget Antaratma! Get the pillars!” At Nameless’ command, the druid turns and hammers into the same pillar that the light hit, smashing chunks away and causing it to list to the side.
Antaratma leaps towards Luna, whip and claw raised, but Gareth swiftly interposes himself, hacking into the daelkyr again and again. Foiled, Antaratma strikes the paladin instead, failing to drain his life force but transforming away his vitality too.
Korm, having been given a moment by Madra’s attack, swiftly heals himself and charges an unsuspecting mind flayer nearby. The meteoric blade bites deep, but the illithid is still alive. As it desperately tries to cast a spell, the Gatekeeper fixes it with a stare. To his inordinate pleasure (and surprise), his gaze has its supernatural effect, causing the mind flayer’s eyes to close. It plummets to the ground below, instantly breaking its neck. “Yes!” shouts Korm, “Finally!”
Battle rages across this patch of the Mournland. The new arrivals are badly outnumbered, especially as the giant ring of incoming aberration forces reaches and bolsters those that were already present around the army of the Five Nations. They are, however, in a compact formation and were fully prepared for this moment, unlike their foes. Veterans of the Last War fire a withering hail of bolts into the approaching aberrations, each of them magically enhanced ahead of time by the artificers. A row of Brelish warforged raises tower shields in place, deflecting the bolts that dolgrims fire in return, before stepping aside to let a troop of Dhakaani hobgoblins charge through, spiked chains scything through the enemies. Aundairan mages and Cannith artificers launch fireballs and lightning bolts, leaving Karrn and Thranish heavy infantry to mow down the wounded. While many powerful aberrations threaten to break the soldiers’ lines, small elite groups—Tharashk half-orcs and Deneith Blademarks—combine to take them down. Maddox Kaminaar’s distinctive bone armor marks him as he engages an athach single-handed, while Corven marshals the lines on either side, keeping the formation intact as best he can.
Despite their efforts, the soldiers might have been swiftly overwhelmed, if not for the incredible feats being performed near them by some of the mightiest warriors present in Khorvaire today. The odd couple of Cedric and King Kaius stand back to back, reaping the foes that surround them, the rude quips and battered armor of one contrasting with the silent fury and gleaming red full-plate of the other. Prine leaps here and there, blades slicing through enemies and moving on almost before they fall. Madra Sil Sarin is invisible most of the time, only appearing to land a killing blow against one particularly powerful enemy after another. None of the new arrivals are as eye-catching, however, as Sora Maenya. The hag is in her element, roaring in fury and scything through all enemies within reach, a mound of corpses steadily growing around her. Only the three remaining dragons, now rampaging through the aberration ranks with fang and claw, arguably cause as much damage.
Most importantly for the Angels, the appearance of their allies dramatically diminishes the amount of foes they have to deal with. Two of the mind flayer generals are dead or dying, while the others are trying to form their troops into some sort of order to deal with the interlopers, so the only attackers that remain for the Angels to deal with are those few that have reached the ziggurat. These enemies are uncoordinated in their assault and, considering their opposition, very unlucky.
While Nameless continues his mental tussle with Antaratma over the warpstone, Six’s scything chain keeps enemies away, killing some and tumbling others off their feet for the remaining trolls to take down. Korm, having flown back to the others, hovers protectively over the arcanist, utilizing blade and spell to bring down anything which comes within reach. Atop the ziggurat, Gareth and Luna battle Antaratma, pausing every few seconds to take down some aberration that has made its way up there as well.
For some moments, the fight at the ziggurat is at a stalemate. Neither Nameless nor Antaratma succeed at taking full control of the warpstone, lightning-quick psychic attacks meeting instant ripostes. The sphere of ultimate destruction continues inflicting damage to the pillars, though the daelkyr lord manages to repair some of it with a wish from a ring on his hand, undoing much of what the magical creation and Luna have inflicted. Mual-Tar has not moved yet at Antaratma’s call, which would be reassuring if not for the fact that it indicates the ritual is still in progress.
Meanwhile, the glowing fragments of the vanished gate have been pulsing slowly where each fell, seemingly with no effect on the aberrations and Khorvairan warriors passing through them. Now, suddenly, each of them expands visibly. Simultaneously, each of the Angels feels an odd sensation in their mind, as various faces and names rise unbidden to the surface, some familiar to them and others of relative strangers that they have almost never thought of. The distracting sensation momentarily causes Nameless to falter in his psychic duel. Antaratma cries out in triumph and seizes control of the warpstone.
And then the glowing shards of the gate disappear, each leaving behind a figure in its place, one that the Guardian Angels had encountered at some point in the past. Morran Shasharaat, a Maruk Ghaash’kala warrior, looks around in evident surprise at a scene far from his homeland in the Labyrinth leading to the Demon Wastes, and then grabs at his sword, burying it in the head of an even more surprised dolgaunt. Near him Balan Cord, warden of the Blackened Book in Sharn, hurriedly draws a wand and activates it, before rising up into the air and shouting at the Angels, “What did you do this time?!”
Elsewhere, an unfortunate gnoll, one of the members of the tribe that had encountered the Angels while they were riding to meet Mordain, appears and dies in seconds, as does a goblin guard who had survived the Angels’ failed attack on the drug den. Some distance from them, Gareth’s former apprentice Bodo throws himself adroitly aside, dodging a pair of crossbow bolts. The missiles bury themselves to the fletching in the chest of the short figure that had appeared near Bodo. Thurian Davandi, better known to the Guardian Angels as Killian, looks down with a horrified expression and then collapses. From the top of the ziggurat, Luna roars, “Yes! We finally got that b*stard!”*****
Luna’s enthusiasm waxes even greater as she spots two very divergent figures on the battlefield. The smaller one, another gnome like Killian but far more flamboyantly dressed, adroitly parries a dolgrim’s swords with the thick book he is carrying. Kessler, Sharn’s most famous and controversial playwright and satirist, dances backwards, swiftly reciting a poem that causes his attacker to stop with a befuddled expression and then move to defend him instead. The other figure is more conventionally martial, his gleaming cutlass slicing through first the tentacles and then the throat of a dolgaunt. Luna waves her giant arms and shouts, “Look, it’s my gnome and my boyfriend! Yoohoo!” Prince Ryger ir’Wynarn of the Lhazaar Principalities, throws the giant elemental a faintly horrified glance. Then he focuses on attacking the foes around him, perhaps not coincidentally heading away from the ziggurat.
Across the battlefield, a slim, armored figure slashes her blade across the throats of two dolgrims and then cuts down an onrushing runehound with a swift blow. Behind her, a dolgaunt silently raises its tentacles, and then collapses silently. The elderly woman standing behind it drops the now crumpled tea-tray that she had been holding and then says quickly, “Young lady, I suggest you look behind you. Now can I borrow an extra weapon?” As the other woman quickly proffers a shortsword, both of them glance at the ziggurat and say simultaneously, “Gareth!” The paladin stares across the battlefield at his fiancée and grandmother, thinking that he had imagined this scene a little differently. He opens his mouth to shout a warning, when a ring of electricity incinerates the enemies around them. A third woman, inhuman eyes crackling with power, rises into the air. Titania, high lady of the eladrin, is on the field.
Closer to the ziggurat, a huge globe appears in midair, bobbing gently up and down. For all of a moment, before an errant missile strikes it, causing a loud roar to emanate from it, as well as volley of rays from the various stalks that leap up. Ek’aankh, the ancient beholder from Yarkuun Draal, is both awake and crotchety. A flying mind flayer drops out of the air as Ek’aankh’s antimagic gaze strikes it. Struggling to its feet, the illithid screams as an oddly shaped missile smashes its eye. The boy who threw it pulls another rolled newspaper from his shoulder bag and hurls it, hitting a dolgaunt behind the knee and bringing it down.
“See?” says Nameless, indicating the paper boy, “I knew there was a reason they can survive delivering papers in Sharn!” As he speaks, the alienist feels Antaratma’s mental grasp on the warpstone slip, the daelkyr lord again momentarily distracted by the new arrivals. Seizing the opportunity, Nameless psychically reaches out, smashing through his foe’s defense. “Now!”
Korm rockets up the stairs, ignoring a lashing tentacle, and hacks into Antaratma, driving him back. Six appears in a puff of smoke behind Antaratma, chain wrapping around the daelkyr lord’s leg and pulling, just as Gareth smashes the Endless Blade down on his head. Incredible defenses or not, Antaratma tumbles to the ground.
Unseen tendrils of aberrant power leap out from the warpstone, but this time Nameless turns them inward, a mighty mental effort redirecting the energy to act upon its own source. The giant chunk of warpstone rises into the air and then soars upwards. “Luna!” the alienist shouts, “Use this!”
Simultaneously, Nameless directs the sphere of ultimate destruction to strike the same pillar that he has been targeting, causing part of it to disappear and the entire column to list sideways. Before the structure can recover or Antaratma intervene, two misshapen hunks of rock close on the flying warpstone. Wielding it like a gigantic club, Luna smashes it with all her titanic might into the damaged pillar. With a tremendous crack, the pillar snaps off at its base.
The daelkyr lord’s scream and the sounds of the battle are drowned out at the tremendous explosion that follows. The broken pillar vaporizes before it can hit the ground, each of the others disintegrating similarly. The warpstone similarly melts away. Streams of silver energy shoot in various directions like lightning, most of them rising vertically into the air to strike the slowly-expanding tear between Eberron and Xoriat which was hanging above the ziggurat. The rip in the planar fabric twists and jerks like a living thing and then drops, enveloping the ziggurat.
To the Guardian Angels, it is as if the landscape around them (and the creatures it contains) suddenly shoots out and away from them, retreating swiftly and becoming dimly translucent as it recedes, till they are floating in the middle of a mile of open space. Surrounding them is the scene within which they stood moments ago, but overlaying it is a nauseating, mind-bending vista of colors and layers that is unsettlingly familiar, especially to one of them.
“Is this …,” begins Korm, flying back towards Nameless, sword raised warily as he sees Antaratma floating to his feet. Incredible rage is writ large across the daelkyr lord’s face, but of greater concern is the slow movement of the gigantic shape behind him, Mual-Tar slowly uncoiling itself from the ziggurat that hangs in the center of the dark sphere within which the group is.
“Yes,” rasps Nameless, “This is Xoriat.” Then, as realization dawns, the alienist adds, “The heart of Xoriat, to be precise, the kuch-naa … the ultimate nothingness!”
* Rolled a 3 on the opposed caster level check and then used a Fatespinner ability to reroll and get an 8.
** From this point on, Nameless and the daelkyr were making opposed Intelligence checks as a free action each round to control and use the warpstone for a round.
*** Antaratma can shift some of an enemy’s physical ability scores from one to another. In this case, he lowered her Con by 7 and raised her Dex by 7.
**** Luna was down 14 Con by this point.
***** Even if they had to use an aberration army from Xoriat to do it!
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“Luna, become an elemental now—the largest you can be,” snaps Nameless, beginning to cast a spell. As the magic takes hold, he says, “I wish…”
Beside him, Gareth hurriedly casts a protective spell, the paladin’s shape transforming into a stone body, while Six activates the wand inside his metal arm, using a haste on all of the Guardian Angels. Korm calls on the abilities he has drawn in from the various aberrations he has fed on, a cloaker’s wings sprouting from his back even as his hide thickens like a delver and an athach’s poisonous fangs fill his mouth.
None of the changes are as impressive as Luna’s. The druid begins to grow, her body enlarging dramatically and turning into a stony form that stretches ten, twenty, thirty, forty and then fifty feet. Now she towers as high as the tallest of elder elementals, but then Nameless’ wish takes hold, allowing Luna to surpass even the tremendous potential implanted in her by Mordain the Fleshweaver. In seconds, the equivalent of a small hill, a full hundred feet tall and proportionately broad, towers over every combatant on the field, including the dragons. Only Mual-Tar is far larger, but the Chaos-Serpent remains motionless. Luna roars and smashes the huge boulders that pass for her fists onto the ground. “This … is … AWESOME!”
Even the daelkyr lord pauses at the sight, before swiftly sheathing himself in a series of magical protections. His forces do not, however, thousands of aberrations (and tens of thousands of them outside the city surrounding the ziggurat) flying, running, slithering and hopping forward towards the ziggurat.
Near the Angels, most of the befuddled trolls babble in confusion, but two raise their swords and prepare to attack. Luna promptly interposes herself, allowing their blows to bounce harmlessly off her rocky hide. Most of the dragons cast protective spells of their own, but Bhirali opens her mouth to breathe, her insanity causing her to see those near her as her foes. Just as she is about to, the huge gold dragon staggers, Essirise leaping on her and temporarily bearing her down. Bhirali snaps at his attacker and struggles mightily, but Essirise holds on for the moment, though clearly having difficulty. “Do something!” she calls out, “I can’t hold her!”
Gareth tries a break enchantment on Bhirali, but Antaratma’s enchantment is too powerful for the paladin, resisting even Nameless’ swift use of the same spell an instant later. The alienist instantly uses his mastery of destiny to catch the fading magic and alter the probability of its success, but to no avail*. The gold dragon roars in maddened rage, managing to roll Essirise over, pinning her down.
But then, just as hers jaws are about to close on the silver dragon’s now exposed neck, Korm’s hand slaps against Bhirali’s side. The Gatekeeper channels a heal, instantly ending the dragon’s madness. Bhirali blinks once and then hurriedly flings herself off Essirise, babbling apologies in draconic.
“No time for that,” says the relieved silver dragon as she rises. “Get the daelkyr!” she snaps quickly at the Guardian Angels. “We’ll buy you some time!”
“Yes!” growls the clearly embarrassed Bhirali. “Dragons, follow me—for Argonnessen!” She leaps into the air, followed by the other dragons.
Watching them go, Nameless glances at the still confused trolls and says quickly, “Luna, keep them off me for a moment.” The gigantic elemental nods, raising her gigantic fists, but before she strikes, Gareth completes a swift spell, casting a calm emotions that causes the trolls that were trying to attack the alienist to halt and lower their weapons.
“Oh,” says Luna, sounding disappointed, before looking at the daelkyr lord. With a pleased laugh, the giant elemental flows forward, to and up the ziggurat, once more raising her mountainous arms.
Behind her, Six wraps himself more closely in the shadows seeping from his harness. The warforged’s form enlarges dramatically, leaving him standing well over a dozen feet tall. He sweeps his proportionately large spiked chain in a huge arc, ensuring that none of the other trolls can threaten Nameless.
Seizing the opportunity, Nameless completes the modified version of a gate that he had prepared for this moment. Normally, it would not work within the Mournland, but the combination of the daelkyr’s ritual, Nameless’ own connection to this land and to Xoriat, and, most importantly, the subject that he is focusing on has the effect he hoped for. The giant gray hunk of the Madstone that the Angels had stowed away in the icy wastes far to the north of Khorvaire now reappears, embedded in the ground at Nameless’ side.
Antaratma, who had been preparing for Luna’s assault, blinks in first surprise and then rising fury. “You … dare?!” Invisibly and unnoticed by the others on the battlefield, the alienist feels his mind reach out and seize control of the warpstone—or try to, until a mental riposte from Nameless knocks it away**, momentarily claiming control of the warpstone for himself. “Tsk, tsk, Aunty! You know very well by now,” Nameless smiles, “There is very little that I don’t dare.”
As he speaks, the alienist hears a chorus of screams behind him. The dragons, flying parallel to each other, have reached the front row of the advancing aberrations and they breathe all at once. A three hundred foot wide swathe of fire, cold, acid and electricity strikes the creatures. The aberrations are aided by the fact that they are well spread out and gaining substantial cover from the various structures that make up the ring-shaped city around the ziggurat but, even so, the attack instantly kills scores and leaves others critically wounded. Only the combination of a natural resistance to mind-affecting effects and magical protections provided by their masters keeps most of the aberrations in the battle, but many dolgrims throw down their weapons and flee in abject terror.
However, the numbers are utterly against the dragons, and their foes have many weapons at their disposal. While the barrage of missiles which envelops them has little effect, the streams of acid, cones of coruscating sound and other strange attacks are more damaging, as are the magical attacks that dozens of enemy casters unleash. Despite their resistance to magic and other natural (and magical) protections, wounds appear on all of the dragons. The bronze dragon Vorelakun screams and falls out of the air, smoke leaking from the sockets where its eyes had been.
On the ziggurat, Antaratma snarls in frustration at Nameless’ action and then steps forward, his whip lashing out. It strikes Luna’s stony exterior, seeking to drain her life force, but her protective spells and new form protect her. However, there are certain things that she cannot protect herself against. Luna feels the sensation of an instant transformation, some of her natural vitality being changed into an increased agility*** that feels particularly odd in her giant shape.
Even more troublingly, the flying mind flayer members of the Seven—the generals of Antaratma’s forces—are now close enough to use their most powerful spells. Four horrid wiltings explode among the Angels. Even with all their protections, all of them are wounded. The comparatively unprotected trolls are far more badly hurt, only their tremendous vitality preventing any of them from dying instantly.
Ignoring his wounds, Nameless attempts to use the Warpstone to affect the ritual, but this time the swift mental contest goes to Antaratma, who parries the alienist’s mental attempt. The smile which begins to appear on the daelkyr’s face is wiped off an instant later, when Nameless casts a sphere of ultimate destruction, causing a featureless black globe to appear atop the ziggurat. The sphere strikes one of the four pillars and begins to disintegrate the material, incredibly hard though it is.
A moment later, one of Luna’s huge fists smashes into Antaratma. The wounded daelkyr snarls and again strikes the giant elemental, causing her to groan as he further reduces her vitality****.
“Help her, Gareth,” snaps Korm, casting a swift stone to mud spell on Gareth, which substantially heals the paladin’s not-stony form. “I’ll keep the mind flayers off you,” says the Gatekeeper, taking to the air. He charges one of the aberration generals, hacking into its side with the meteoric blade. Just as Korm had hoped, his target and many of the other aberrations in the area focus on him, causing him to smile grimly. For as long as I can.
Behind him, Gareth complies with the command, the angelic wings extending from his armor sending him soaring up the ziggurat’s steps. With a loud cry, the Endless Blade crashes down on the daelkyr, inflicting a deep wound. Even though it begins healing quickly, Antaratma staggers backwards at the impact.
Simultaneously, more horrid wiltings and other spells explode among the Angels clustered at the ziggurat, while Korm, slightly separated from his companions, finds himself defending against multiple magical and physical assaults, that leave the Gatekeeper badly wounded. Some of the trolls go down and so does another dragon, though her three compatriots continue battling on. Despite the tremendous power they can bring to bear, it is clear that the sheer volume and resources of the enemies will overwhelm the small group of attackers at any moment. Especially since most of the aberrations have not even managed to join the battle, particularly those whose teleportation into the area had been hindered by Nameless’ greater anticipate teleportation until now.
Or so it seems, until Six dramatically evens the odds. Figuring that there will never be a more opportune time, the warforged reaches into his backpack, produces the Gate Ring and activates it.
A tremendous wave of arcane power ripples from the artifact, palpable to even the most magically unaware of the combatants on the field. A golden point of light appears some five hundred feet from Six, which rapidly expands into a huge gate, a thousand feet in width, translucent in color and roughly shaped like the outline of a dragon with outspread wings. Smaller portals of a similar shape appear closer at hand, each only a hundred feet away, forming the corners of a square around the Angels and the ziggurat.
Through the giant magical portal one can dimly see the staging area for the troops waiting in Thrane, which promptly begin to pour through. At their head are three figures that the Angels immediately recognize—Cedric in the lead, followed by the Karrnathi bone knight Maddox Kaminaar to his left and their former companion Corven to his right. Behind them hurry hundreds of troops drawn from the Five Nations. For the first time since the beginning of the Last War over a century ago, the forces of Aundair, Breland, Karrnath and Thrane fight side by side against a common foe. Beside them stand goblinoid mercenaries from Darguun, soldiers of the Deneith Blademark, warriors from House Tharashk and Cannith artificers.
Four distinctive figures step through the four smaller gates. The largest of them all hefts her greataxe and looks around, licking her lips in anticipation. Diagonally across from Sora Maenya, a much smaller, robed figure also looks around, though her hood veils her face. Out of the Angels, only Six recognizes Madra Sil Sarin. The third figure is known to all the Angels, the scout Prine from Argonnessen, who smiles worriedly and hurriedly draws his twin blades. So too is the fourth, though he is not one they had expected to see. Tall and muscular, dressed in dark red plate armor and wielding a wickedly serrated blade, King Kaius III of Karrnath salutes the Angels and then lowers the front of his helm into place.
Having done its part, the magical ring in Six’s hand, crafted painstakingly by the most skilled of draconic arcanists in the depths of Argonnessen, crumbles away. So too does the giant gate, but as it breaks apart, some two dozen fragments from it break away to land elsewhere on the battlefield, where they continue to shimmer brightly.
The entire process takes only seconds and then the roar of voices and the clash of arms echoes across the battlefield. The newly arrived troops rip into the clearly stunned aberrations around them. Cedric shouts a command and begins to hack his way towards the ziggurat, the troops behind him following suit while trying to form a broad wedge. Maddox angles slightly away with another contingent, covering one flank, while Corven does the same on the other. Trying to clear a path, Corven triggers a wand, only to have the magic fizzle uselessly. Despite the situation, the artificer half-laughs as he swears and then shouts at the Angels, “You do this to me every time!”
Despite their initial shock, the aberrations quickly fight back, their numbers still substantially dwarfing the five hundred or so troops that the gate let through. The mind flayer generals shout commands to their troops, turning their attention away from the Angels and towards the newcomers. All except the one facing Korm, that is. While Sora Maenya, Kaius and Prine all attack the nearest foes, Madra Sil Sarin disappears in a puff of smoke and reappears in mid-air behind the flying illithid. Before it can even detect her presence, she stabs her short sword right into its skull and hangs on. The mind flayer struggles feebly, clawing at the air before it, but it seems unable to speak or cast any spells.
Antaratma screams in rage and then shouts, “Mual-Tar! Awake!” The Chaos Serpent, however, makes no movement and the only response is Nameless’ harsh laugh as he sends his sphere of ultimate destruction smashing into the same pillar.
The daelkyr glares at the alienist and, once more, engages mentally with him over the warpstone. As he does, however, Nameless completes casting a limited wish, using it to bolster his own intellect, and pushes off Antaratma’s mental grasp. With a swift effort, Nameless unleashes the warpstone’s aberrant power. The stream of silver light that had been calmly flowing up the ziggurat and to the four pillars intensifies in brightness, before swinging wildly like a cracked whip. It strikes a second pillar, causing a spiderweb of deep cracks to cover it.
“Luna—forget Antaratma! Get the pillars!” At Nameless’ command, the druid turns and hammers into the same pillar that the light hit, smashing chunks away and causing it to list to the side.
Antaratma leaps towards Luna, whip and claw raised, but Gareth swiftly interposes himself, hacking into the daelkyr again and again. Foiled, Antaratma strikes the paladin instead, failing to drain his life force but transforming away his vitality too.
Korm, having been given a moment by Madra’s attack, swiftly heals himself and charges an unsuspecting mind flayer nearby. The meteoric blade bites deep, but the illithid is still alive. As it desperately tries to cast a spell, the Gatekeeper fixes it with a stare. To his inordinate pleasure (and surprise), his gaze has its supernatural effect, causing the mind flayer’s eyes to close. It plummets to the ground below, instantly breaking its neck. “Yes!” shouts Korm, “Finally!”
Battle rages across this patch of the Mournland. The new arrivals are badly outnumbered, especially as the giant ring of incoming aberration forces reaches and bolsters those that were already present around the army of the Five Nations. They are, however, in a compact formation and were fully prepared for this moment, unlike their foes. Veterans of the Last War fire a withering hail of bolts into the approaching aberrations, each of them magically enhanced ahead of time by the artificers. A row of Brelish warforged raises tower shields in place, deflecting the bolts that dolgrims fire in return, before stepping aside to let a troop of Dhakaani hobgoblins charge through, spiked chains scything through the enemies. Aundairan mages and Cannith artificers launch fireballs and lightning bolts, leaving Karrn and Thranish heavy infantry to mow down the wounded. While many powerful aberrations threaten to break the soldiers’ lines, small elite groups—Tharashk half-orcs and Deneith Blademarks—combine to take them down. Maddox Kaminaar’s distinctive bone armor marks him as he engages an athach single-handed, while Corven marshals the lines on either side, keeping the formation intact as best he can.
Despite their efforts, the soldiers might have been swiftly overwhelmed, if not for the incredible feats being performed near them by some of the mightiest warriors present in Khorvaire today. The odd couple of Cedric and King Kaius stand back to back, reaping the foes that surround them, the rude quips and battered armor of one contrasting with the silent fury and gleaming red full-plate of the other. Prine leaps here and there, blades slicing through enemies and moving on almost before they fall. Madra Sil Sarin is invisible most of the time, only appearing to land a killing blow against one particularly powerful enemy after another. None of the new arrivals are as eye-catching, however, as Sora Maenya. The hag is in her element, roaring in fury and scything through all enemies within reach, a mound of corpses steadily growing around her. Only the three remaining dragons, now rampaging through the aberration ranks with fang and claw, arguably cause as much damage.
Most importantly for the Angels, the appearance of their allies dramatically diminishes the amount of foes they have to deal with. Two of the mind flayer generals are dead or dying, while the others are trying to form their troops into some sort of order to deal with the interlopers, so the only attackers that remain for the Angels to deal with are those few that have reached the ziggurat. These enemies are uncoordinated in their assault and, considering their opposition, very unlucky.
While Nameless continues his mental tussle with Antaratma over the warpstone, Six’s scything chain keeps enemies away, killing some and tumbling others off their feet for the remaining trolls to take down. Korm, having flown back to the others, hovers protectively over the arcanist, utilizing blade and spell to bring down anything which comes within reach. Atop the ziggurat, Gareth and Luna battle Antaratma, pausing every few seconds to take down some aberration that has made its way up there as well.
For some moments, the fight at the ziggurat is at a stalemate. Neither Nameless nor Antaratma succeed at taking full control of the warpstone, lightning-quick psychic attacks meeting instant ripostes. The sphere of ultimate destruction continues inflicting damage to the pillars, though the daelkyr lord manages to repair some of it with a wish from a ring on his hand, undoing much of what the magical creation and Luna have inflicted. Mual-Tar has not moved yet at Antaratma’s call, which would be reassuring if not for the fact that it indicates the ritual is still in progress.
Meanwhile, the glowing fragments of the vanished gate have been pulsing slowly where each fell, seemingly with no effect on the aberrations and Khorvairan warriors passing through them. Now, suddenly, each of them expands visibly. Simultaneously, each of the Angels feels an odd sensation in their mind, as various faces and names rise unbidden to the surface, some familiar to them and others of relative strangers that they have almost never thought of. The distracting sensation momentarily causes Nameless to falter in his psychic duel. Antaratma cries out in triumph and seizes control of the warpstone.
And then the glowing shards of the gate disappear, each leaving behind a figure in its place, one that the Guardian Angels had encountered at some point in the past. Morran Shasharaat, a Maruk Ghaash’kala warrior, looks around in evident surprise at a scene far from his homeland in the Labyrinth leading to the Demon Wastes, and then grabs at his sword, burying it in the head of an even more surprised dolgaunt. Near him Balan Cord, warden of the Blackened Book in Sharn, hurriedly draws a wand and activates it, before rising up into the air and shouting at the Angels, “What did you do this time?!”
Elsewhere, an unfortunate gnoll, one of the members of the tribe that had encountered the Angels while they were riding to meet Mordain, appears and dies in seconds, as does a goblin guard who had survived the Angels’ failed attack on the drug den. Some distance from them, Gareth’s former apprentice Bodo throws himself adroitly aside, dodging a pair of crossbow bolts. The missiles bury themselves to the fletching in the chest of the short figure that had appeared near Bodo. Thurian Davandi, better known to the Guardian Angels as Killian, looks down with a horrified expression and then collapses. From the top of the ziggurat, Luna roars, “Yes! We finally got that b*stard!”*****
Luna’s enthusiasm waxes even greater as she spots two very divergent figures on the battlefield. The smaller one, another gnome like Killian but far more flamboyantly dressed, adroitly parries a dolgrim’s swords with the thick book he is carrying. Kessler, Sharn’s most famous and controversial playwright and satirist, dances backwards, swiftly reciting a poem that causes his attacker to stop with a befuddled expression and then move to defend him instead. The other figure is more conventionally martial, his gleaming cutlass slicing through first the tentacles and then the throat of a dolgaunt. Luna waves her giant arms and shouts, “Look, it’s my gnome and my boyfriend! Yoohoo!” Prince Ryger ir’Wynarn of the Lhazaar Principalities, throws the giant elemental a faintly horrified glance. Then he focuses on attacking the foes around him, perhaps not coincidentally heading away from the ziggurat.
Across the battlefield, a slim, armored figure slashes her blade across the throats of two dolgrims and then cuts down an onrushing runehound with a swift blow. Behind her, a dolgaunt silently raises its tentacles, and then collapses silently. The elderly woman standing behind it drops the now crumpled tea-tray that she had been holding and then says quickly, “Young lady, I suggest you look behind you. Now can I borrow an extra weapon?” As the other woman quickly proffers a shortsword, both of them glance at the ziggurat and say simultaneously, “Gareth!” The paladin stares across the battlefield at his fiancée and grandmother, thinking that he had imagined this scene a little differently. He opens his mouth to shout a warning, when a ring of electricity incinerates the enemies around them. A third woman, inhuman eyes crackling with power, rises into the air. Titania, high lady of the eladrin, is on the field.
Closer to the ziggurat, a huge globe appears in midair, bobbing gently up and down. For all of a moment, before an errant missile strikes it, causing a loud roar to emanate from it, as well as volley of rays from the various stalks that leap up. Ek’aankh, the ancient beholder from Yarkuun Draal, is both awake and crotchety. A flying mind flayer drops out of the air as Ek’aankh’s antimagic gaze strikes it. Struggling to its feet, the illithid screams as an oddly shaped missile smashes its eye. The boy who threw it pulls another rolled newspaper from his shoulder bag and hurls it, hitting a dolgaunt behind the knee and bringing it down.
“See?” says Nameless, indicating the paper boy, “I knew there was a reason they can survive delivering papers in Sharn!” As he speaks, the alienist feels Antaratma’s mental grasp on the warpstone slip, the daelkyr lord again momentarily distracted by the new arrivals. Seizing the opportunity, Nameless psychically reaches out, smashing through his foe’s defense. “Now!”
Korm rockets up the stairs, ignoring a lashing tentacle, and hacks into Antaratma, driving him back. Six appears in a puff of smoke behind Antaratma, chain wrapping around the daelkyr lord’s leg and pulling, just as Gareth smashes the Endless Blade down on his head. Incredible defenses or not, Antaratma tumbles to the ground.
Unseen tendrils of aberrant power leap out from the warpstone, but this time Nameless turns them inward, a mighty mental effort redirecting the energy to act upon its own source. The giant chunk of warpstone rises into the air and then soars upwards. “Luna!” the alienist shouts, “Use this!”
Simultaneously, Nameless directs the sphere of ultimate destruction to strike the same pillar that he has been targeting, causing part of it to disappear and the entire column to list sideways. Before the structure can recover or Antaratma intervene, two misshapen hunks of rock close on the flying warpstone. Wielding it like a gigantic club, Luna smashes it with all her titanic might into the damaged pillar. With a tremendous crack, the pillar snaps off at its base.
The daelkyr lord’s scream and the sounds of the battle are drowned out at the tremendous explosion that follows. The broken pillar vaporizes before it can hit the ground, each of the others disintegrating similarly. The warpstone similarly melts away. Streams of silver energy shoot in various directions like lightning, most of them rising vertically into the air to strike the slowly-expanding tear between Eberron and Xoriat which was hanging above the ziggurat. The rip in the planar fabric twists and jerks like a living thing and then drops, enveloping the ziggurat.
To the Guardian Angels, it is as if the landscape around them (and the creatures it contains) suddenly shoots out and away from them, retreating swiftly and becoming dimly translucent as it recedes, till they are floating in the middle of a mile of open space. Surrounding them is the scene within which they stood moments ago, but overlaying it is a nauseating, mind-bending vista of colors and layers that is unsettlingly familiar, especially to one of them.
“Is this …,” begins Korm, flying back towards Nameless, sword raised warily as he sees Antaratma floating to his feet. Incredible rage is writ large across the daelkyr lord’s face, but of greater concern is the slow movement of the gigantic shape behind him, Mual-Tar slowly uncoiling itself from the ziggurat that hangs in the center of the dark sphere within which the group is.
“Yes,” rasps Nameless, “This is Xoriat.” Then, as realization dawns, the alienist adds, “The heart of Xoriat, to be precise, the kuch-naa … the ultimate nothingness!”
* Rolled a 3 on the opposed caster level check and then used a Fatespinner ability to reroll and get an 8.
** From this point on, Nameless and the daelkyr were making opposed Intelligence checks as a free action each round to control and use the warpstone for a round.
*** Antaratma can shift some of an enemy’s physical ability scores from one to another. In this case, he lowered her Con by 7 and raised her Dex by 7.
**** Luna was down 14 Con by this point.
***** Even if they had to use an aberration army from Xoriat to do it!
