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Soneillon. Part 2. (Updated 10/7)
- Thread starter Sepulchrave II
- Start date
starwolf said:
You miss the point. Daily bumping a story hour such as this, is proof of our devotion to it. Having it stickied up to the top would negate all that, it would be meaningless then. We're not some SH Author pimping their own story hour, we are doing this because it's one of the all time great's and we feel it should be kept on the first page. If we didn't care enough to keep bumping it, then it should drift off into the nether reaches of the story hour board. Eventually to fade away forever...
I always felt a bit sad that all of the bumps were cleaned off of the original Lady Despina's virtute, since they were accumulated over such a long time and represented so much effort by so many people (especially Horacio, to whom I give much of the credit for the story hour returning).
So if you really love a story hour it is your duty to bump it. The fact that this story hour remains pretty much pegged to the top page at least is a clear sign of how much it is loved.
So, 'til Sepulchrave II returns from the problems of RL, we will remain here faithfully bumping things (though it wouldn't hurt if it were sooner rather than later. In fact I'm almost finished buying MY house already).
Eridanis
Bard 7/Mod (ret) 10/Mgr 3
Well said, Rackhir. Also, the last thing we want to do is practice favoritism in the SH forum; who's to say that one or two SHs are better than all the rest, for every person? I sure don't want to make that call. 
I will check all the other threads for pruning, too, as I get time. The last time Sep had temporary deletion powers, he wiped every non-SH post, so I don't feel bad about pruning a bit here and there.
I will check all the other threads for pruning, too, as I get time. The last time Sep had temporary deletion powers, he wiped every non-SH post, so I don't feel bad about pruning a bit here and there.
Sepulchrave II
Legend
Hi All
Sorry for the slight delay
I'm afraid that I must beg your indulgence again: my wife and I have purchased a house (hooray!), but now the process of packing begins (boo!). We close at the end of October, so it may be a while again before another update. The stressful part is over though, thank the gods.
In the meantime...
***
Mostly Nwm
Nwm fretted. It was nearly midnight, the two fiends had departed from his field of consciousness, and Eadric had not returned to the chapel. The fact that the Paladin was mind blanked did not help matters – it was impossible to discern whether he was in the vicinity or not.
When Gheim returned through the open window, the Eagle confirmed that the Ahma was no longer in the Steeple by dropping Lukarn at Nwm’s feet.
"The room is empty, although his armour is still within. Do not make me fly in search of him, Nwm – or at least calm the wind somewhat, if you do."
Nwm scowled. He feared manipulation and betrayal by either the Infernal Duke, the Succubus, or both. The possibility that the two fiends might be in cahoots with one another also troubled him.
Iua glanced at the Druid. Other than Nwm, she was the only one of the group still awake.
"Should I wake Mostin?"
Nwm shook his head. "What use would it serve? Eadric is unlocatable. We just have to wait. Stay here – I’ll be back presently."
He opened the chapel door and strode into the storm.
**
Nwm’s contention that Nhura could not mount an effective assault upon Kyrtill’s Burh until the next day was based on incomplete information, and a gross underestimate of the power at the Lillend’s command. Likewise, Mostin’s belief that the screen invoked by Shomei, together with the dimensional lock would prove a sufficient protection for the few hours they needed, was equally flawed.
Nhura was resourceful, merciless, and never one to cede the initiative in any conflict in which she was engaged. Five teams of demons conjured by Koilimilou – each consisting of a glabrezu and a succubus – had been dispatched, and one pair finally returned with useful news for the Lillend.
At Koilimilou’s command, the fiends had systematically scoured the countryside in Western Trempa, looking for Deorham and Kyrtill’s Burh, which – after questioning local farmers in an outlying stead near Hernath – was revealed to a succubus to be only twelve miles distant.
Elated with the news, the demoness slew several families in a fit of glee, before returning to her dark mistress and her even darker queen.
The castle, it appeared, was hidden by a powerful illusion, and at the centre of a highly localized weather system. The nearby village of Deorham, however, was plainly visible. The glabrezu had penetrated the screen about the keep with its vision, but subsequently retreated upon finding a quartet of devas – appearing from nowhere – which had hewn at him with their flaming swords.
When the glabrezu returned, eighteen seconds later, it was in the company of four others of its kind, five succubi, three summoned vrocks, and the creature Hazihe – the chthonic babau originally enlisted by Irknaan, and now serving Nhura.
The rewards promised to the fiends by Nhura were lavish, and included a diamond circlet of immense value, an Azer blade of fabled power, a cloak of displacement, and a robe of stars.
The demons were well motivated.
**
As Nwm began to walk the short distance across the courtyard to the base of the Steeple, one of the devas – his name was Saphrez, although the Druid neither knew nor cared – manifested before him. Nwm was bathed in light from the holy aura which surrounded the deva.
"There are demons abroad," the Celestial announced. "Where is the Ahma?"
Nwm cursed, and shook his head.
"I suggest that you retreat within."
The Druid dashed back through the doors, and yelled, jarring Shomei, Ortwin and Mostin from sleep.
"Demons. We must act now."
Blearily, Mostin invoked a wall of force.
In the courtyard, confusion reigned. The demons were materializing, but only the glabrezu – possessed of an extraordinary perceptive faculty – could readily pierce the screen which protected the area. Through force of will, the babau Hazihe summoned sufficient insight to mentally overcome the illusion. Neither the succubi nor the vrocks were capable of clear perception, however. Despite a knowledge that they were standing within the castle walls, all they saw was a rocky knoll.
The deva Tarquam, somewhat disoriented by the sudden appearance of numbers of demons – some of whom appeared very confused – nonetheless reacted quickly. He spoke a holy word, instantly sending two succubi and a glabrezu back to their Abyssal home.
Seconds later, Hazihe – a yawning void which pulsed with unlight – leaped upon him, ripping effortlessly through celestial flesh with claws and maw, and, in the blink of an eye, permanently extinguished the deva’s shining essence.
Nazaihemaht and Rôrex, the two other devas in the courtyard, both pronounced further holy words in succession, banishing yet more of the fiends screaming back to the lower planes. Hazihe, two of the glabrezu, and one of the succubi were unaffected.
From within the confines of the chapel, Mostin grimaced as he heard two power words echo within the courtyard above the noise of the storm. There was a brief pause as the demons dispatched the devas, and then the glabrezu ripped the doors of the chapel off of their hinges.
One tried pushing forwards, but encountered the wall of force.
The other attempted to teleport into the sanctum behind where the party stood, but could not penetrate the dimensional lock.
Ortwin smiled, and stuck his finger up.
"I think that gesture may be a little premature," Nwm remarked drily.
**
The Void embraced him. It was warm, soft, yielding, welcoming. It showed its power through its capacity for absorption – which had no limit – and a profound silence, free of all worry and distraction. Eadric felt as though he teetered upon the edge of oblivion, and was vaguely surprised that the threat of annihilation did not seem so terrible. Beyond, fear and madness – the thought-forms and unconscious ravings of fiends – seemed a universe away. He wanted Nothing. He needed Nothing.
She is deadly. This truth is too easy. [Thought fails. Bliss. Emptiness.]
He corporeated again within an opulent chamber, draped with crimson and fuligin. It was replete with fantastic art of a most abstract and disturbing nature – although what it portrayed, he could not tell. Dimension seemed warped and unnatural, as though curves existed where none should, and angles played at the corners of his mind only to disappear when observed directly. His perceptions buckled with layered dissonances. Nearby, a small silver bell hung from a delicate chain.
Soneillon had assumed a guise that her servants and thralls were familiar with, and Eadric swallowed. No longer a young girl, but a demoness of indeterminate age. Still beautiful, but cold, aloof, serene, worshipful; at ease with the terrible power which she commanded. She was as tall as he was, and wore only a diadem studded with black jewels.
The Succubus smiled disarmingly, and, for the Paladin’s benefit, modestly shrouded her form with her sable wings.
"Welcome to Throile," she said coyly. "I have been somewhat neglectful, and there are matters that I must attend to – do not be alarmed, I will return very shortly. Strike the bell if there is anything which you require – Helitihai will meet any need that you might have."
Although the word any was not pronounced with undue emphasis, it still carried a meaning beyond the obvious.
Eadric sighed. "I would ask two things. First, that you do not present an expurgated view of this place in order to protect my feelings – my actions must be made in full consciousness, and the more that is hidden from me, the less I will feel inclined to trust my judgement. I am in the Abyss, and I do not expect to encounter scenes which I find agreeable. Second, I do not wish to linger here too long – I am a willing ambassador, but I have other responsibilities that I must meet before I can commit to any course of action in Throile. I would feel uncomfortable if my stay lasted beyond an hour – an hour in Wyre, to be clear."
"Your concerns are duly noted, and I will observe your wishes. If you would prefer, you may accompany me now. But you should be warned: there are things here which you would regard as obscene, debased and insane. You are likely to be offended."
"I’ve come this far," Eadric pointed out. "I will reserve judgement."
"It will still shake you to your core."
Eadric found that she was right. The suffering there knew no limits, and the pleasure derived by those who inflicted it was transient, grotesque and depraved. It was, after all, the Abyss.
He earnestly hoped that he would never become inured to it.
**
The demons had vanished from view, although they still appeared as nearby blots within Nwm’s mind.
"Is he mad?" Ortwin groaned. "He didn’t take his weapon with him? Where is he?"
Nwm shrugged. "Presumably with either Titivilus, or Soneillon. Or perhaps both."
"I hope the former, for his sake," Shomei sighed. "This is tedious. I am utterly depleted, and so is Mostin. And this dimensional lock may now prove more a prison than protection. How many are out there, Nwm?"
"Four. One is very unpleasant. There are no celestials within range – they’re either destroyed or fled."
"I suspect that we are in no shape to deal with the chthonic," Shomei swallowed. "This is very bad news."
"We are safe unless they can disintegrate the wall of force," Mostin replied. "Don’t panic quite yet. We have twenty minutes or so before it collapses. I have time to prepare a banishment and a another spell or two.*"
"Can you issue a sending to Ed?" Ortwin asked.
The Alienist shook his head glumly. "By the time I’ve prepared it and cast it, the wall of force will be down. And even if I renewed the barrier and Eadric manages to return, he will be out there, and us in here. He cannot come into the chapel any more than the demons can."
"I still have a few tricks left," Nwm said wearily. His expression changed to one of horror as he shot a glance towards the open doorway of the chapel.
The demons had returned, and had brought Eadric’s small staff of retainers with them. Dwarfed by the looming presence of the glabrezu, the servants – valets and maids, stablehands and gardener – cowered in terror.
The huge demons proceeded to dismember and eat the cook. The succubus danced nearby.
"Bring out the Ahma," the Void called Hazihe demanded.
Nwm groaned. "This is intolerable. Why must it always be the innocents? Mostin, bring the wall down on my signal."
"You are joking, of course?"
Nwm began to cast a ward upon himself.
"Nwm?"
"Now, Mostin."
"Nwm, I…"
"Just for once, trust me Mostin."
The Alienist sighed, and reluctantly complied. The wall of force dissipated.
Nwm grimaced and struck his blackthorn staff once upon the flagstone inside the door. The slabs which formed the chapel floor began to crack. "She is tired of your interference," he announced to the demons, although it would have been spoken with equal vehemence to Soneillon, the Loquai, the devas, and perhaps even to the Sela himself.
Green fire blazed over the Druid, threatening to consume him. His skin blistered and cracked, his cloak ignited. His mouth, ears and eyes dripped a liquid that might have been blood, or sap, or both. A colossal discharge of viridescence emanated from him. His staff sank into the floor, burning in a brilliant flash of green, and the orb of storms which had topped it fell off and rolled away.
For the briefest moment, Ortwin fancied that he saw the silhouette of a woman in Nwm’s place: a shape of great girth and dignity; fecund, bearing a thousand swollen breasts.
The demons were transfixed with expressions of bewilderment – impaled through limb and torso on vast, thorny boughs which erupted from the paved courtyard, penetrating their hides and instantly slaying them. The corpse of the babau, Hazihe, flickered disconcertingly on the edge of consciousness: destroyed, nullified – whatever became of things that had already survived annihilation.
Nwm collapsed.
"I should like to sleep now," he said.
Mostin gaped. "I had no idea…"
Iua smiled wrily. "Thankfully, we are not all wanton braggarts."
The Bard scowled, and then rapidly dismissed his vision as the imaginings of tired eyes and a still sluggish mind. Besides, nobody else seemed to have noticed.
*
Nhura waited.
The Demons did not return. The Lillend attempted to reach them with magical sight. Nothing. They were gone.
She cursed, and glanced at Koilimilou. The Cambion was slumped exhausted, in deep trance. Nhura resisted the urge to slay her out of spite – Koilimilou was too useful – and glanced at Jetheeg.
The Lamia was, as her custom dictated, polymorphed into the form of a crone – approximately human in shape – but of great height, and possessing an unusually bestial and vicious aspect. Jetheeg was accustomed to riding a griffon, and if forced into physical combat – something which she was generally cautious to avoid – her hag-like form served her well.
"The demons have failed," Jetheeg remarked drily.
"Koilimilou will conjure more tomorrow," Nhura scowled.
"She will run out of potential compactees at this rate. Her patroness will be most displeased with her in any case – losing five glabrezu is an act of reprehensible carelessness."
"If Rhyxali cannot provide them then we will try another," Nhura countered. "Soneillon has…"
"Soneillon." Jetheeg scoffed. "Do not place too much trust in Throile, or its Queen. You are precariously perched, majesty," the word majesty carried the slightest hint of condescension.
"She may provide more of Hazihe’s ilk. She knows many names. I still suspect that she will pay a high price for the Ahma."
"If she ever deigns to answer your sendings," Jetheeg sneered.
"We will prevail," Nhura hissed. "Watch your tongue, Jetheeg – I am not above removing it. We know the exact location of the castle. You will issue more sendings tomorrow – Irzho is still here, somewhere in this world. He can be solicited – I suspect that he, like us, is now somewhat indifferent to Graz’zt’s rule. And give the Cambion an hour to conjure more demons in the morning. When we assault the place, we will be prepared. Others will be glad to compact – there are sweet rewards for those who succeed."
Jetheeg nodded – the promise was directed towards her as much as any other.
But, as later that night, Nhura rested – coiled around a tree of evil temper within the woods of Hethio – she herself received a succession of sendings from her glabrezu lover and cohort, Narab. He had been charged – together with Tebdeluz** – with maintaining a close guard upon Lehurze, whose capacity for treachery, Nhura suspected, was exceeded only by her usefulness as a tool. Lehurze had been appointed the task of reopening a dialogue with the Devils who maintained a presence in Afqithan. In fact, the suavity of the succubus did not match the oratory finesse of Titivilus and Furcas – two of Hell’s foremost rhetoricians – and she quickly found herself beating a hasty diplomatic retreat.
None of this mattered, because Narab’s sendings conveyed a dire message to the Lillend. Mere hours had passed in the demiplane since the departure of the Ahma and his party:
Ainhorr holds Afqithan. Three legions plus daemon mercenaries. Devils remain – assaults upon tower ineffective. Loquai capitulated quickly. Lehurze location unknown. Tebdeluz eliminated. Annexation took five minutes.
No, not sweet Tebdeluz! Nhura swore profusely. Disposition and location of enemy? Generals? Ainhorr returned to favour? What of Soneillon? Graz’zt?
Bar-lgura; some chasme. No dretches – highly mobile. Nycaloths. Seven mariliths; auxiliaries and specialists include goristros, kelvezu, retrievers, many succubi. Ainhorr armoured and rearmed. Soneillon location unknown. Graz’zt presumed Azzagrat.
Nhura groaned. She had half-anticipated some form of inquiry from Zelatar when the periodic gate opened – hence her own intentional absence. But this was unexpected. Lehurze may have sold her out. As could any one of a dozen others, for that matter. And three legions – close to twenty thousand demons – was hardly a token presence.
What to do now?, she wondered.
**
"You expect me to do what?" Eadric asked, incredulous.
"Do you think that you could deal with him – hand-to-hand – if his magic were neutralized?"
"No. Not alone."
"But with – for example – Ortwin and Iua?"
"Probably," Eadric conceded. "But I think that they would both require extensive inducements to participate. Ortwin would be the first to admit that he favours the appearance of valour over valour itself; and generally prefers money to morals."
"When Zelatar is looted, Eadric – as it certainly will be, after the fall of one of Graz’zt’s stature – then Ortwin, I suspect, will be there to take the choicest pickings. Have you any idea of the extent of the Prince’s wealth? Scavengers from a thousand different realities will descend upon Azzagrat like flies. News travels quickly."
"Then it would rapidly become the least desirable place in the cosmos to be," Eadric sighed.
"I doubt that Ortwin will see it that way."
"You speak as though the outcome is a foregone conclusion."
"Graz’zt can be eliminated. You must be the bait."
"He will not rise to it."
"You must force his hand. You are capable of doing this, Eadric: rousing his ire to such a degree, that he loses all perspective in his lust for vengeance."
"I had considered Afqithan to be a possible locale for an encounter."
"As had I," Soneillon agreed. "And his mind is already turned there. He is attempting to unravel the events that transpired there."
Eadric gave an inquisitive look.
"Ainhorr has just annexed the demiplane."
Eadric groaned and his eyes bulged. He considered briefly. "Why? I mean, why you, now? What do you stand to gain? I don’t believe that all of your action springs from vindictiveness and the desire for revenge. You are too considered. Too methodical."
The Demoness laughed. "The Ahma sees with clear eyes. Because there is something of mine that I would dearly like returned to me. He stole it. I want it back."
In Nhura’s throne room, in the palace built by Irknaan in Afqithan, Ainhorr gloated over the loot brought to him by the bar-lgura which leapt madly through the halls. Most of the Loquai who dwelt in the fortress had translated to Shadow or Faerie and eluded capture, but grizzly examples were made of their servants and those unfortunate enough to have been caught unawares.
Demons and sendings had raced back and forth. Menicau, Samodoquol and a dozen other nobles had immediately sued for peace. Within an hour, tributes had been lavished upon the Balor by fawning aristocrats. Ainhorr’s contempt for them was offset by his immense greed, and a recognition that the Loquai – ultimately pragmatic in their outlook – would prove no threat.
The Demon set his pristine slaadi-forged blade across his knees, and relaxed into an immense throne of steel – erected in place of Irknaan’s delicate chair of tenebrous coral. He intended to enjoy his tenure as despot of Afqithan.
He gazed through the deep-set windows across the lawns – strewn with the bodies of demons, Loquai, and fey and goblin slaves – and through the trees. Fifty nycadaemons now soared menacingly around the diabolic tower. Its inhabitants – three Dukes of Hell and their retinue – were reportedly contained. As much as it was possible to contain three Infernal magnates.
Which was to say, Ainhorr sneered to himself, not at all.
*At this point, Mostin had two fifth-level, one sixth level and one seventh-level open slots left. All of his prepared high-level spells, except for a plane shift and a discern location had already been cast.
**Narab and Tebdeluz: big glabrezu – advanced to 24 HD – and bound to Nhura by Irknaan himself as part of their nuptial agreement. Narab was given the stone of sendings – lost by Shomei – to continually apprise Nhura of Lehurze’s actions, as well as the maneuvering of the various Loquai nobles in her absence.
Note:
Nwm’s spell (She is tired of your interference) was a spontaneous variation of another that his player, Dave had been working on. I had ruled that DC0 Epic Spells could be invented and cast "on the fly." In this case I also allowed the staff of the woodlands to be used as a (fabulously expensive) material component – I permitted the normal XP cost to create the item (3600 XP) to be used in lieu of part of the XP mitigating factors (i.e. –36 DC). It had wholly appropriate symbolism for the mood that Nwm was in, and the spell’s visual effects reflected that.
So Nwm was the first PC to cast an Epic Spell in the game – to the immense surprise of the other players, who had no idea that Nwm was capable (or even that he was 21st level, IIRC).
The demonic attack was kind of mean of me, I’ll admit (although the players had great fun playing the devas for a round or two), but it was within Nhura’s capabilities to organize the ambush, so I could hardly let it pass. The PCs were still all completely spent from their encounter with Crosod, Eadric was missing, and to throw the chthonic babau (CR 20 or so) and a bunch of glabrezu at them at this point was a little bit ruthless.
On a related note, this opened a whole new can of worms – that of allowing magical items to serve as material components for Epic Spells. I actually quite like the idea: its not as though such things can be freely purchased in the campaign, and I think it actually balances quite well – one form of XP sink (the item) is converted into another (the Epic Spell). The purpose and symbolism needs to be consistent on some level – so it wouldn’t be possible to use, say, Daern’s instant fortress to fuel a fire evocation.
Sorry for the slight delay
I'm afraid that I must beg your indulgence again: my wife and I have purchased a house (hooray!), but now the process of packing begins (boo!). We close at the end of October, so it may be a while again before another update. The stressful part is over though, thank the gods. In the meantime...
***
Mostly Nwm
Nwm fretted. It was nearly midnight, the two fiends had departed from his field of consciousness, and Eadric had not returned to the chapel. The fact that the Paladin was mind blanked did not help matters – it was impossible to discern whether he was in the vicinity or not.
When Gheim returned through the open window, the Eagle confirmed that the Ahma was no longer in the Steeple by dropping Lukarn at Nwm’s feet.
"The room is empty, although his armour is still within. Do not make me fly in search of him, Nwm – or at least calm the wind somewhat, if you do."
Nwm scowled. He feared manipulation and betrayal by either the Infernal Duke, the Succubus, or both. The possibility that the two fiends might be in cahoots with one another also troubled him.
Iua glanced at the Druid. Other than Nwm, she was the only one of the group still awake.
"Should I wake Mostin?"
Nwm shook his head. "What use would it serve? Eadric is unlocatable. We just have to wait. Stay here – I’ll be back presently."
He opened the chapel door and strode into the storm.
**
Nwm’s contention that Nhura could not mount an effective assault upon Kyrtill’s Burh until the next day was based on incomplete information, and a gross underestimate of the power at the Lillend’s command. Likewise, Mostin’s belief that the screen invoked by Shomei, together with the dimensional lock would prove a sufficient protection for the few hours they needed, was equally flawed.
Nhura was resourceful, merciless, and never one to cede the initiative in any conflict in which she was engaged. Five teams of demons conjured by Koilimilou – each consisting of a glabrezu and a succubus – had been dispatched, and one pair finally returned with useful news for the Lillend.
At Koilimilou’s command, the fiends had systematically scoured the countryside in Western Trempa, looking for Deorham and Kyrtill’s Burh, which – after questioning local farmers in an outlying stead near Hernath – was revealed to a succubus to be only twelve miles distant.
Elated with the news, the demoness slew several families in a fit of glee, before returning to her dark mistress and her even darker queen.
The castle, it appeared, was hidden by a powerful illusion, and at the centre of a highly localized weather system. The nearby village of Deorham, however, was plainly visible. The glabrezu had penetrated the screen about the keep with its vision, but subsequently retreated upon finding a quartet of devas – appearing from nowhere – which had hewn at him with their flaming swords.
When the glabrezu returned, eighteen seconds later, it was in the company of four others of its kind, five succubi, three summoned vrocks, and the creature Hazihe – the chthonic babau originally enlisted by Irknaan, and now serving Nhura.
The rewards promised to the fiends by Nhura were lavish, and included a diamond circlet of immense value, an Azer blade of fabled power, a cloak of displacement, and a robe of stars.
The demons were well motivated.
**
As Nwm began to walk the short distance across the courtyard to the base of the Steeple, one of the devas – his name was Saphrez, although the Druid neither knew nor cared – manifested before him. Nwm was bathed in light from the holy aura which surrounded the deva.
"There are demons abroad," the Celestial announced. "Where is the Ahma?"
Nwm cursed, and shook his head.
"I suggest that you retreat within."
The Druid dashed back through the doors, and yelled, jarring Shomei, Ortwin and Mostin from sleep.
"Demons. We must act now."
Blearily, Mostin invoked a wall of force.
In the courtyard, confusion reigned. The demons were materializing, but only the glabrezu – possessed of an extraordinary perceptive faculty – could readily pierce the screen which protected the area. Through force of will, the babau Hazihe summoned sufficient insight to mentally overcome the illusion. Neither the succubi nor the vrocks were capable of clear perception, however. Despite a knowledge that they were standing within the castle walls, all they saw was a rocky knoll.
The deva Tarquam, somewhat disoriented by the sudden appearance of numbers of demons – some of whom appeared very confused – nonetheless reacted quickly. He spoke a holy word, instantly sending two succubi and a glabrezu back to their Abyssal home.
Seconds later, Hazihe – a yawning void which pulsed with unlight – leaped upon him, ripping effortlessly through celestial flesh with claws and maw, and, in the blink of an eye, permanently extinguished the deva’s shining essence.
Nazaihemaht and Rôrex, the two other devas in the courtyard, both pronounced further holy words in succession, banishing yet more of the fiends screaming back to the lower planes. Hazihe, two of the glabrezu, and one of the succubi were unaffected.
From within the confines of the chapel, Mostin grimaced as he heard two power words echo within the courtyard above the noise of the storm. There was a brief pause as the demons dispatched the devas, and then the glabrezu ripped the doors of the chapel off of their hinges.
One tried pushing forwards, but encountered the wall of force.
The other attempted to teleport into the sanctum behind where the party stood, but could not penetrate the dimensional lock.
Ortwin smiled, and stuck his finger up.
"I think that gesture may be a little premature," Nwm remarked drily.
**
The Void embraced him. It was warm, soft, yielding, welcoming. It showed its power through its capacity for absorption – which had no limit – and a profound silence, free of all worry and distraction. Eadric felt as though he teetered upon the edge of oblivion, and was vaguely surprised that the threat of annihilation did not seem so terrible. Beyond, fear and madness – the thought-forms and unconscious ravings of fiends – seemed a universe away. He wanted Nothing. He needed Nothing.
She is deadly. This truth is too easy. [Thought fails. Bliss. Emptiness.]
He corporeated again within an opulent chamber, draped with crimson and fuligin. It was replete with fantastic art of a most abstract and disturbing nature – although what it portrayed, he could not tell. Dimension seemed warped and unnatural, as though curves existed where none should, and angles played at the corners of his mind only to disappear when observed directly. His perceptions buckled with layered dissonances. Nearby, a small silver bell hung from a delicate chain.
Soneillon had assumed a guise that her servants and thralls were familiar with, and Eadric swallowed. No longer a young girl, but a demoness of indeterminate age. Still beautiful, but cold, aloof, serene, worshipful; at ease with the terrible power which she commanded. She was as tall as he was, and wore only a diadem studded with black jewels.
The Succubus smiled disarmingly, and, for the Paladin’s benefit, modestly shrouded her form with her sable wings.
"Welcome to Throile," she said coyly. "I have been somewhat neglectful, and there are matters that I must attend to – do not be alarmed, I will return very shortly. Strike the bell if there is anything which you require – Helitihai will meet any need that you might have."
Although the word any was not pronounced with undue emphasis, it still carried a meaning beyond the obvious.
Eadric sighed. "I would ask two things. First, that you do not present an expurgated view of this place in order to protect my feelings – my actions must be made in full consciousness, and the more that is hidden from me, the less I will feel inclined to trust my judgement. I am in the Abyss, and I do not expect to encounter scenes which I find agreeable. Second, I do not wish to linger here too long – I am a willing ambassador, but I have other responsibilities that I must meet before I can commit to any course of action in Throile. I would feel uncomfortable if my stay lasted beyond an hour – an hour in Wyre, to be clear."
"Your concerns are duly noted, and I will observe your wishes. If you would prefer, you may accompany me now. But you should be warned: there are things here which you would regard as obscene, debased and insane. You are likely to be offended."
"I’ve come this far," Eadric pointed out. "I will reserve judgement."
"It will still shake you to your core."
Eadric found that she was right. The suffering there knew no limits, and the pleasure derived by those who inflicted it was transient, grotesque and depraved. It was, after all, the Abyss.
He earnestly hoped that he would never become inured to it.
**
The demons had vanished from view, although they still appeared as nearby blots within Nwm’s mind.
"Is he mad?" Ortwin groaned. "He didn’t take his weapon with him? Where is he?"
Nwm shrugged. "Presumably with either Titivilus, or Soneillon. Or perhaps both."
"I hope the former, for his sake," Shomei sighed. "This is tedious. I am utterly depleted, and so is Mostin. And this dimensional lock may now prove more a prison than protection. How many are out there, Nwm?"
"Four. One is very unpleasant. There are no celestials within range – they’re either destroyed or fled."
"I suspect that we are in no shape to deal with the chthonic," Shomei swallowed. "This is very bad news."
"We are safe unless they can disintegrate the wall of force," Mostin replied. "Don’t panic quite yet. We have twenty minutes or so before it collapses. I have time to prepare a banishment and a another spell or two.*"
"Can you issue a sending to Ed?" Ortwin asked.
The Alienist shook his head glumly. "By the time I’ve prepared it and cast it, the wall of force will be down. And even if I renewed the barrier and Eadric manages to return, he will be out there, and us in here. He cannot come into the chapel any more than the demons can."
"I still have a few tricks left," Nwm said wearily. His expression changed to one of horror as he shot a glance towards the open doorway of the chapel.
The demons had returned, and had brought Eadric’s small staff of retainers with them. Dwarfed by the looming presence of the glabrezu, the servants – valets and maids, stablehands and gardener – cowered in terror.
The huge demons proceeded to dismember and eat the cook. The succubus danced nearby.
"Bring out the Ahma," the Void called Hazihe demanded.
Nwm groaned. "This is intolerable. Why must it always be the innocents? Mostin, bring the wall down on my signal."
"You are joking, of course?"
Nwm began to cast a ward upon himself.
"Nwm?"
"Now, Mostin."
"Nwm, I…"
"Just for once, trust me Mostin."
The Alienist sighed, and reluctantly complied. The wall of force dissipated.
Nwm grimaced and struck his blackthorn staff once upon the flagstone inside the door. The slabs which formed the chapel floor began to crack. "She is tired of your interference," he announced to the demons, although it would have been spoken with equal vehemence to Soneillon, the Loquai, the devas, and perhaps even to the Sela himself.
Green fire blazed over the Druid, threatening to consume him. His skin blistered and cracked, his cloak ignited. His mouth, ears and eyes dripped a liquid that might have been blood, or sap, or both. A colossal discharge of viridescence emanated from him. His staff sank into the floor, burning in a brilliant flash of green, and the orb of storms which had topped it fell off and rolled away.
For the briefest moment, Ortwin fancied that he saw the silhouette of a woman in Nwm’s place: a shape of great girth and dignity; fecund, bearing a thousand swollen breasts.
The demons were transfixed with expressions of bewilderment – impaled through limb and torso on vast, thorny boughs which erupted from the paved courtyard, penetrating their hides and instantly slaying them. The corpse of the babau, Hazihe, flickered disconcertingly on the edge of consciousness: destroyed, nullified – whatever became of things that had already survived annihilation.
Nwm collapsed.
"I should like to sleep now," he said.
Mostin gaped. "I had no idea…"
Iua smiled wrily. "Thankfully, we are not all wanton braggarts."
The Bard scowled, and then rapidly dismissed his vision as the imaginings of tired eyes and a still sluggish mind. Besides, nobody else seemed to have noticed.
*
Nhura waited.
The Demons did not return. The Lillend attempted to reach them with magical sight. Nothing. They were gone.
She cursed, and glanced at Koilimilou. The Cambion was slumped exhausted, in deep trance. Nhura resisted the urge to slay her out of spite – Koilimilou was too useful – and glanced at Jetheeg.
The Lamia was, as her custom dictated, polymorphed into the form of a crone – approximately human in shape – but of great height, and possessing an unusually bestial and vicious aspect. Jetheeg was accustomed to riding a griffon, and if forced into physical combat – something which she was generally cautious to avoid – her hag-like form served her well.
"The demons have failed," Jetheeg remarked drily.
"Koilimilou will conjure more tomorrow," Nhura scowled.
"She will run out of potential compactees at this rate. Her patroness will be most displeased with her in any case – losing five glabrezu is an act of reprehensible carelessness."
"If Rhyxali cannot provide them then we will try another," Nhura countered. "Soneillon has…"
"Soneillon." Jetheeg scoffed. "Do not place too much trust in Throile, or its Queen. You are precariously perched, majesty," the word majesty carried the slightest hint of condescension.
"She may provide more of Hazihe’s ilk. She knows many names. I still suspect that she will pay a high price for the Ahma."
"If she ever deigns to answer your sendings," Jetheeg sneered.
"We will prevail," Nhura hissed. "Watch your tongue, Jetheeg – I am not above removing it. We know the exact location of the castle. You will issue more sendings tomorrow – Irzho is still here, somewhere in this world. He can be solicited – I suspect that he, like us, is now somewhat indifferent to Graz’zt’s rule. And give the Cambion an hour to conjure more demons in the morning. When we assault the place, we will be prepared. Others will be glad to compact – there are sweet rewards for those who succeed."
Jetheeg nodded – the promise was directed towards her as much as any other.
But, as later that night, Nhura rested – coiled around a tree of evil temper within the woods of Hethio – she herself received a succession of sendings from her glabrezu lover and cohort, Narab. He had been charged – together with Tebdeluz** – with maintaining a close guard upon Lehurze, whose capacity for treachery, Nhura suspected, was exceeded only by her usefulness as a tool. Lehurze had been appointed the task of reopening a dialogue with the Devils who maintained a presence in Afqithan. In fact, the suavity of the succubus did not match the oratory finesse of Titivilus and Furcas – two of Hell’s foremost rhetoricians – and she quickly found herself beating a hasty diplomatic retreat.
None of this mattered, because Narab’s sendings conveyed a dire message to the Lillend. Mere hours had passed in the demiplane since the departure of the Ahma and his party:
Ainhorr holds Afqithan. Three legions plus daemon mercenaries. Devils remain – assaults upon tower ineffective. Loquai capitulated quickly. Lehurze location unknown. Tebdeluz eliminated. Annexation took five minutes.
No, not sweet Tebdeluz! Nhura swore profusely. Disposition and location of enemy? Generals? Ainhorr returned to favour? What of Soneillon? Graz’zt?
Bar-lgura; some chasme. No dretches – highly mobile. Nycaloths. Seven mariliths; auxiliaries and specialists include goristros, kelvezu, retrievers, many succubi. Ainhorr armoured and rearmed. Soneillon location unknown. Graz’zt presumed Azzagrat.
Nhura groaned. She had half-anticipated some form of inquiry from Zelatar when the periodic gate opened – hence her own intentional absence. But this was unexpected. Lehurze may have sold her out. As could any one of a dozen others, for that matter. And three legions – close to twenty thousand demons – was hardly a token presence.
What to do now?, she wondered.
**
"You expect me to do what?" Eadric asked, incredulous.
"Do you think that you could deal with him – hand-to-hand – if his magic were neutralized?"
"No. Not alone."
"But with – for example – Ortwin and Iua?"
"Probably," Eadric conceded. "But I think that they would both require extensive inducements to participate. Ortwin would be the first to admit that he favours the appearance of valour over valour itself; and generally prefers money to morals."
"When Zelatar is looted, Eadric – as it certainly will be, after the fall of one of Graz’zt’s stature – then Ortwin, I suspect, will be there to take the choicest pickings. Have you any idea of the extent of the Prince’s wealth? Scavengers from a thousand different realities will descend upon Azzagrat like flies. News travels quickly."
"Then it would rapidly become the least desirable place in the cosmos to be," Eadric sighed.
"I doubt that Ortwin will see it that way."
"You speak as though the outcome is a foregone conclusion."
"Graz’zt can be eliminated. You must be the bait."
"He will not rise to it."
"You must force his hand. You are capable of doing this, Eadric: rousing his ire to such a degree, that he loses all perspective in his lust for vengeance."
"I had considered Afqithan to be a possible locale for an encounter."
"As had I," Soneillon agreed. "And his mind is already turned there. He is attempting to unravel the events that transpired there."
Eadric gave an inquisitive look.
"Ainhorr has just annexed the demiplane."
Eadric groaned and his eyes bulged. He considered briefly. "Why? I mean, why you, now? What do you stand to gain? I don’t believe that all of your action springs from vindictiveness and the desire for revenge. You are too considered. Too methodical."
The Demoness laughed. "The Ahma sees with clear eyes. Because there is something of mine that I would dearly like returned to me. He stole it. I want it back."
In Nhura’s throne room, in the palace built by Irknaan in Afqithan, Ainhorr gloated over the loot brought to him by the bar-lgura which leapt madly through the halls. Most of the Loquai who dwelt in the fortress had translated to Shadow or Faerie and eluded capture, but grizzly examples were made of their servants and those unfortunate enough to have been caught unawares.
Demons and sendings had raced back and forth. Menicau, Samodoquol and a dozen other nobles had immediately sued for peace. Within an hour, tributes had been lavished upon the Balor by fawning aristocrats. Ainhorr’s contempt for them was offset by his immense greed, and a recognition that the Loquai – ultimately pragmatic in their outlook – would prove no threat.
The Demon set his pristine slaadi-forged blade across his knees, and relaxed into an immense throne of steel – erected in place of Irknaan’s delicate chair of tenebrous coral. He intended to enjoy his tenure as despot of Afqithan.
He gazed through the deep-set windows across the lawns – strewn with the bodies of demons, Loquai, and fey and goblin slaves – and through the trees. Fifty nycadaemons now soared menacingly around the diabolic tower. Its inhabitants – three Dukes of Hell and their retinue – were reportedly contained. As much as it was possible to contain three Infernal magnates.
Which was to say, Ainhorr sneered to himself, not at all.
*At this point, Mostin had two fifth-level, one sixth level and one seventh-level open slots left. All of his prepared high-level spells, except for a plane shift and a discern location had already been cast.
**Narab and Tebdeluz: big glabrezu – advanced to 24 HD – and bound to Nhura by Irknaan himself as part of their nuptial agreement. Narab was given the stone of sendings – lost by Shomei – to continually apprise Nhura of Lehurze’s actions, as well as the maneuvering of the various Loquai nobles in her absence.
Note:
Nwm’s spell (She is tired of your interference) was a spontaneous variation of another that his player, Dave had been working on. I had ruled that DC0 Epic Spells could be invented and cast "on the fly." In this case I also allowed the staff of the woodlands to be used as a (fabulously expensive) material component – I permitted the normal XP cost to create the item (3600 XP) to be used in lieu of part of the XP mitigating factors (i.e. –36 DC). It had wholly appropriate symbolism for the mood that Nwm was in, and the spell’s visual effects reflected that.
So Nwm was the first PC to cast an Epic Spell in the game – to the immense surprise of the other players, who had no idea that Nwm was capable (or even that he was 21st level, IIRC).
The demonic attack was kind of mean of me, I’ll admit (although the players had great fun playing the devas for a round or two), but it was within Nhura’s capabilities to organize the ambush, so I could hardly let it pass. The PCs were still all completely spent from their encounter with Crosod, Eadric was missing, and to throw the chthonic babau (CR 20 or so) and a bunch of glabrezu at them at this point was a little bit ruthless.
On a related note, this opened a whole new can of worms – that of allowing magical items to serve as material components for Epic Spells. I actually quite like the idea: its not as though such things can be freely purchased in the campaign, and I think it actually balances quite well – one form of XP sink (the item) is converted into another (the Epic Spell). The purpose and symbolism needs to be consistent on some level – so it wouldn’t be possible to use, say, Daern’s instant fortress to fuel a fire evocation.
Destan
Citizen of Val Hor
I was about to shut down the computer and hit the sack, and then I see Sep's returned! Thank heavens! Haven't even read the update yet, just wanted to express my joy.
Best wishes with the new home, Sep. Here's hoping you can designate a permanent gaming room somewhere therein.
D
Best wishes with the new home, Sep. Here's hoping you can designate a permanent gaming room somewhere therein.
D
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Sepulchrave II said:
Hmmm...that is a really good idea. I'll have to consider it as my player approach epic.
But...I don't know if they'll be able to comprehend that there are spells more powerful than wish or miracle
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