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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 3888627" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>While I am writing this story from a broad outline, a lot of the specific plot details have evolved over the course of the story. The account of Talen's vampiric transformation is one of those. I hope that you guys will enjoy the twists that are coming. </p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Chapter 294</p><p></p><p>THE GATHERING</p><p></p><p></p><p>Allera waited in the sunlit hall outside the large chamber where the governing council of Camar met. Once it had been used by the Grand Duke as an audience chamber, its high domed ceiling and vaulted arches a physical reminder of the power of the nation that had long ago tamed this continent for the race of Man. Tiros had spoken of returning this place, and the entire palace compound, back to the people of Camar, perhaps using the great chamber as a venue for musical or theatrical performances that were subsidized by the state. Allera shook her head. Such concerns seemed mundane, now, as Camar tottered on the brink of oblivion. </p><p></p><p>The din from the half-opened door that led into the gathering chamber began to die down. Nelan appeared in the doorway. “I believe that they are starting, Allera,” he said. </p><p></p><p>She looked down the hall. “I will be right in.” She tried to judge the time by the angle of the rays of sun that shone down the hall. She let out a sigh and turned to go in, but paused as a familiar noise drew her attention back down the hall. </p><p></p><p>He was many things, but <em>quiet</em> was not one of them. Dar was clad in his full regalia, armor and weapons covering his body. Someone had provided him with a new uniform after Derber’s Point, and he wore it well, she thought, the insignia and other markings of his rank fitting in with the aura of power and confidence that he radiated. It was impressive even as she recognized it to be partly an illusion; the items that Alzoun had provided for them included a pair of <em>cloaks of charisma</em> of significant potency, sized for her and Dar. Dar had not seen the need for such frippery, as the cloak provided no martial benefit, and could even become a hindrance in a violent melee. Allera had insisted that he wear it, however. The merchant-cleric of Dagos had been possessed of considerable insight, Allera thought, his “gifts” shaped to needs that they hadn’t even realized they had. Now, as she looked upon her lover, she saw the leadership that the people of Camar were going to need as they took on the darkness that endangered their very existence. </p><p></p><p>Thinking of Alzoun reminder her of Varo, and she frowned. Dar saw the change in expression, and misinterpreted it. </p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I don’t like all this garbage either,” he said, indicating the uniform tunic and the cloak. Allera stepped forward and adjusted his tunic, her frown deepening as she saw something else. She placed her hand on a fist-sized icon dangling from his neck, the silver torch of the Shining Father. </p><p></p><p>“I’ve never seen you wear a holy symbol before,” she said. “And... what’s that smell?”</p><p></p><p>He lifted a small mesh bag that dangled from his swordbelt. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Talen,” he said, his voice darkening. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, and there was a subtle change in his stance, one that Allera knew from past experience to be a presage to violence. “I intend to be ready when that happens.”</p><p></p><p>She looked down at the bag in confusion. It contained a number of small objects that were the source of the odor. “I don’t understand.”</p><p></p><p>“Garlic. Keeps vampires at bay.”</p><p></p><p>Allera placed a hand on her forehead, then leaned into him. She shook, slightly, and he frowned until she drew back, and she realized she’d been laughing quietly. “Want to let me in on the joke?”</p><p></p><p>“Corath. These are <em>shallots</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“What?”</p><p></p><p>“Sha— Oh, for the love of all the gods... they’re <em>onions</em>, Corath.” </p><p></p><p>The fighter’s expression darkened. “I am going to kill that merchant...”</p><p></p><p>She chuckled again, and placed a hand on his chest. “Thank you. I really needed that.” She wiped her eyes, and took his hand. “Come on. They’ve already started, and Tiros will need our support.”</p><p></p><p>They made their way into the great chamber; a guard standing in the entry nodded in recognition as they entered. The huge chamber was occupied by upwards of two hundred people. Allera knew most of them, although some she had first met only last night, at the strategy session that Tiros had convened, and which had lasted long into the night. She had to fight back a yawn at the thought; she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Tiros was addressing the gathering, but it sounded like they were still in the introductions part of his speech. Listening with one ear, Allera took a quick look around. </p><p></p><p>Most of the people here were rich, important, or otherwise influential. About half of them were nobles, members of Camar’s social elite, but there were also high officers of the legions and the City Watch, priests of the Shining Father, and the top leaders of the mercantile guilds. There were also a few outsiders, one of whom turned his head and nodded to them as they entered. </p><p></p><p>“Thane Gravorr,” Dar said, acknowledging the gesture. Like him, the dwarf was clad in heavy armor, and the axe slung across his back was functional rather than ceremonial. His seconds were behind him, a pair of dwarves who looked almost identical, resembling rocky crags in their stoic expressions. </p><p></p><p>“I notice that the elves aren’t here,” Dar whispered to Allera. </p><p></p><p>“Tiros sent an invitation through our ambassador to the Conclave of the aelfinn,” Allera muttered back. “There has been no official reply.”</p><p></p><p>“What about our crazy wizard friend?”</p><p></p><p>“Nelan sent him a <em>sending</em>. He said he would be there when the time came.”</p><p></p><p>“Wonderful.”</p><p></p><p>“Quiet, I want to hear this.”</p><p></p><p>The crowd listened as Tiros spoke about the dire threat facing their land, and the terrible events that had plagued Camar in recent days. He spoke of how the people of Camar would come together with their neighbors to defeat the power of the demon that was responsible for these disasters. He indicated Gravorr, who acknowledged the introduction with a nod, and then another group whose presence gave Allera a surprise. </p><p></p><p>“Well, well, look who decided to come back,” Dar said. Allera had to shift position to see who he and Tiros were talking about, as the crowd blocked her view of the far gallery. She finally caught a glimpse of the small knot of robed men, their heads shaven bald, their hands folded within the sleeves of their garments. </p><p></p><p>Setarcos, the monk they had rescued within Rappan Athuk, nodded deeply to Tiros, and then, as if sensing their stare, turned and offered a slight nod to Dar and Allera. </p><p></p><p>Tiros acknowledged several other groups: a small cluster of men clad in the raiment of Razhuri corsairs, the dark skin of their faces marked by multiple decorative piercings. But that was all. A group of Emorite tribesmen from the far north, clad in their winter furs, hard looks on their faces as they stood warily next to a group of <em>jakkis</em> from Erem. The olive-skinned men were a head shorter than the Emorites, but their reputation as the finest riders in the world was well-earned. Both provinces had worn the mantle of Camarian domination uneasily, but their presence here testified to Tiros’s skill in gathering a coalition of forces against the evil threatening Camar. </p><p> </p><p>Allera looked up at Dar, saw the doubt in his eyes, if not in the expression that he carefully kept neutral. The plan that they had devised last night was backed by a considerable force, but like him, she knew that the fate of Camar would likely come down to those few who could stand up to the dangers of Rappan Athuk. </p><p></p><p>As Tiros continued his speech, recapping information that Allera already knew, her thoughts drifted back to last night’s meeting. </p><p></p><p>The meeting had not been held here in the palace, but in the tall tower of the Guild of Sorcery. The reason for that choice of venue had been the man who of all of them seemed to best understand what they were up against. Allera felt a momentary twinge at that, but she pushed the stray thought aside. </p><p></p><p>She remembered well he surprise at Honoratius’s appearance. The elder archmage had always seemed venerable to her, but that night, lying in his bed, he had seemed to her like nothing more than a withered husk, looking more like one of the undead than a living, breathing creature. Allera knew that the ancient figure suffered from a decay that she could not battle with her arts, although she had done all that she could to make him comfortable. If anything, however, the intensity that burned in his eyes had grown, and while he could barely speak, he had used a small spell to amplify his voice so that everyone present could hear him. </p><p></p><p>Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Allera could still hear his words in the back of her mind, as if the archmage was whispering them in her ear. </p><p></p><p><em>”The attacks at Albrith and Trajaran were only a harbinger of what is to come,”</em> he had told them. <em>”The destruction of his temples in Rappan Athuk weakened the Demon, but it is linked to our world, now, and every death it inflicts will increase its strength until it will be capable of unleashing the final doom of everything. There is no question now of what we must do. We must strike and destroy the Demon, or fall trying... and with it, our world.”</em></p><p></p><p>The interval of time since their last trip to Rappan Athuk had not been wasted. Both Patriarch Jaduran and Nelan had <em>communed</em> with Soleus. The power of the Demon was such that direct questions about its activities were met with silence. The information that they had been able to gain had been haphazard and incomplete. They knew that there was a way to access Orcus’s hiding place within Rappan Athuk, but the specific details that they needed had thus far escaped them. </p><p></p><p>But last night, Honoratius had provided the answers they had needed. Almost immediately after he’d come out of the coma that had followed his stroke, even before a cleric could be summoned to tend to his wasted body, he’d demanded a copy of the ancient tome, the <em>Codex Thanara</em>. There, within the twisted and misleading passages of that deranged text, he had uncovered the clues to finding and destroying their enemy. Perhaps, while lying insensate within the dreamless depths of his sickness, his mind had latched onto some whisper of information that had completed the complex puzzle of deciphering the <em>Codex</em>. Or perhaps some other agent had placed the clues within his mind. Whatever the source, they now had at least some idea of how they had to proceed.</p><p></p><p><em>”The place Orcus resides is a demiplane without name, a quasi-reality sustained by its foul existence. It borders on both the Prime and the Abyss, but is part of neither. It cannot be accessed by the usual spells that permit planar travel; it is an anomaly, an aberration that is beyond the rules of the universe that we know. It requires a specific key...”</em></p><p></p><p>Honoratius had broken off at that point with a spell of coughing, but Allera remembered that he’d fixed Dar with a peculiar stare, just for a few heartbeats. No one else had commented on it... had she imagined it? When the archmage was finally able to continue, his voice had become a strangled rasp that sounded eerie under the amplification of his spell. </p><p></p><p><em>”The only entrance to the lair of the Demon is through a level of Rappan Athuk called the Gates of Hell. Powerful guardians dwell there... you must pass through... fire... and water... and madness... The sacrifices... three are keys...”</em></p><p></p><p>There had been more than a few concerned looks around the room, Allera recalled. Honoratius had recovered, returned to his usual lucidity in a few moments. But he did not even seem to remember what he’d been saying. </p><p></p><p>Tiros had directed them toward the plan for their assault. The final assault, he had said. Allera shuddered as she recalled all that she had seen—and done—within the dark halls of Rappan Athuk. She had been held prisoner there, by the servants of Orcus. She had battled demons, and abominations, and worse. Was there anything more terrible than those experiences that could outdo the horrors she had already encountered?</p><p></p><p>She shuddered again at the thought. </p><p></p><p>Tiros had stopped speaking, and Allera returned abruptly to the present. There was no applause, no response from the crowd; the gathering was too somber for that. But at least they moved as people who had a purpose now. They all knew their roles in what was to come. Tiros had not told them everything; it was too likely that the Demon could discern their plans. </p><p></p><p><em>It must know that we will be coming for it</em>, Allera thought. She looked up at Dar, and saw the same thought reflected in his eyes. He smiled at her, but it was clearly forced. </p><p></p><p>“We have a day,” Dar said. “I don’t know about you, but I plan on spending most of it in a bed.”</p><p></p><p>It was a joke, or at least it would have been, before. Something fundamental had changed in Dar, or her, or maybe everything. She joined him, sliding into the space under his left arm. Several people came up to them, but stopped before speaking, sensing their need for a time apart. They left the gathering silently, and vanished into the shadowy corridors of the palace, down halls where the weak sunlight of the winter day failed to dispel the lingering gloom.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 3888627, member: 143"] While I am writing this story from a broad outline, a lot of the specific plot details have evolved over the course of the story. The account of Talen's vampiric transformation is one of those. I hope that you guys will enjoy the twists that are coming. * * * * * Chapter 294 THE GATHERING Allera waited in the sunlit hall outside the large chamber where the governing council of Camar met. Once it had been used by the Grand Duke as an audience chamber, its high domed ceiling and vaulted arches a physical reminder of the power of the nation that had long ago tamed this continent for the race of Man. Tiros had spoken of returning this place, and the entire palace compound, back to the people of Camar, perhaps using the great chamber as a venue for musical or theatrical performances that were subsidized by the state. Allera shook her head. Such concerns seemed mundane, now, as Camar tottered on the brink of oblivion. The din from the half-opened door that led into the gathering chamber began to die down. Nelan appeared in the doorway. “I believe that they are starting, Allera,” he said. She looked down the hall. “I will be right in.” She tried to judge the time by the angle of the rays of sun that shone down the hall. She let out a sigh and turned to go in, but paused as a familiar noise drew her attention back down the hall. He was many things, but [i]quiet[/i] was not one of them. Dar was clad in his full regalia, armor and weapons covering his body. Someone had provided him with a new uniform after Derber’s Point, and he wore it well, she thought, the insignia and other markings of his rank fitting in with the aura of power and confidence that he radiated. It was impressive even as she recognized it to be partly an illusion; the items that Alzoun had provided for them included a pair of [i]cloaks of charisma[/i] of significant potency, sized for her and Dar. Dar had not seen the need for such frippery, as the cloak provided no martial benefit, and could even become a hindrance in a violent melee. Allera had insisted that he wear it, however. The merchant-cleric of Dagos had been possessed of considerable insight, Allera thought, his “gifts” shaped to needs that they hadn’t even realized they had. Now, as she looked upon her lover, she saw the leadership that the people of Camar were going to need as they took on the darkness that endangered their very existence. Thinking of Alzoun reminder her of Varo, and she frowned. Dar saw the change in expression, and misinterpreted it. “Yeah, I don’t like all this garbage either,” he said, indicating the uniform tunic and the cloak. Allera stepped forward and adjusted his tunic, her frown deepening as she saw something else. She placed her hand on a fist-sized icon dangling from his neck, the silver torch of the Shining Father. “I’ve never seen you wear a holy symbol before,” she said. “And... what’s that smell?” He lifted a small mesh bag that dangled from his swordbelt. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Talen,” he said, his voice darkening. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, and there was a subtle change in his stance, one that Allera knew from past experience to be a presage to violence. “I intend to be ready when that happens.” She looked down at the bag in confusion. It contained a number of small objects that were the source of the odor. “I don’t understand.” “Garlic. Keeps vampires at bay.” Allera placed a hand on her forehead, then leaned into him. She shook, slightly, and he frowned until she drew back, and she realized she’d been laughing quietly. “Want to let me in on the joke?” “Corath. These are [i]shallots[/i].” “What?” “Sha— Oh, for the love of all the gods... they’re [i]onions[/i], Corath.” The fighter’s expression darkened. “I am going to kill that merchant...” She chuckled again, and placed a hand on his chest. “Thank you. I really needed that.” She wiped her eyes, and took his hand. “Come on. They’ve already started, and Tiros will need our support.” They made their way into the great chamber; a guard standing in the entry nodded in recognition as they entered. The huge chamber was occupied by upwards of two hundred people. Allera knew most of them, although some she had first met only last night, at the strategy session that Tiros had convened, and which had lasted long into the night. She had to fight back a yawn at the thought; she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Tiros was addressing the gathering, but it sounded like they were still in the introductions part of his speech. Listening with one ear, Allera took a quick look around. Most of the people here were rich, important, or otherwise influential. About half of them were nobles, members of Camar’s social elite, but there were also high officers of the legions and the City Watch, priests of the Shining Father, and the top leaders of the mercantile guilds. There were also a few outsiders, one of whom turned his head and nodded to them as they entered. “Thane Gravorr,” Dar said, acknowledging the gesture. Like him, the dwarf was clad in heavy armor, and the axe slung across his back was functional rather than ceremonial. His seconds were behind him, a pair of dwarves who looked almost identical, resembling rocky crags in their stoic expressions. “I notice that the elves aren’t here,” Dar whispered to Allera. “Tiros sent an invitation through our ambassador to the Conclave of the aelfinn,” Allera muttered back. “There has been no official reply.” “What about our crazy wizard friend?” “Nelan sent him a [i]sending[/i]. He said he would be there when the time came.” “Wonderful.” “Quiet, I want to hear this.” The crowd listened as Tiros spoke about the dire threat facing their land, and the terrible events that had plagued Camar in recent days. He spoke of how the people of Camar would come together with their neighbors to defeat the power of the demon that was responsible for these disasters. He indicated Gravorr, who acknowledged the introduction with a nod, and then another group whose presence gave Allera a surprise. “Well, well, look who decided to come back,” Dar said. Allera had to shift position to see who he and Tiros were talking about, as the crowd blocked her view of the far gallery. She finally caught a glimpse of the small knot of robed men, their heads shaven bald, their hands folded within the sleeves of their garments. Setarcos, the monk they had rescued within Rappan Athuk, nodded deeply to Tiros, and then, as if sensing their stare, turned and offered a slight nod to Dar and Allera. Tiros acknowledged several other groups: a small cluster of men clad in the raiment of Razhuri corsairs, the dark skin of their faces marked by multiple decorative piercings. But that was all. A group of Emorite tribesmen from the far north, clad in their winter furs, hard looks on their faces as they stood warily next to a group of [i]jakkis[/i] from Erem. The olive-skinned men were a head shorter than the Emorites, but their reputation as the finest riders in the world was well-earned. Both provinces had worn the mantle of Camarian domination uneasily, but their presence here testified to Tiros’s skill in gathering a coalition of forces against the evil threatening Camar. Allera looked up at Dar, saw the doubt in his eyes, if not in the expression that he carefully kept neutral. The plan that they had devised last night was backed by a considerable force, but like him, she knew that the fate of Camar would likely come down to those few who could stand up to the dangers of Rappan Athuk. As Tiros continued his speech, recapping information that Allera already knew, her thoughts drifted back to last night’s meeting. The meeting had not been held here in the palace, but in the tall tower of the Guild of Sorcery. The reason for that choice of venue had been the man who of all of them seemed to best understand what they were up against. Allera felt a momentary twinge at that, but she pushed the stray thought aside. She remembered well he surprise at Honoratius’s appearance. The elder archmage had always seemed venerable to her, but that night, lying in his bed, he had seemed to her like nothing more than a withered husk, looking more like one of the undead than a living, breathing creature. Allera knew that the ancient figure suffered from a decay that she could not battle with her arts, although she had done all that she could to make him comfortable. If anything, however, the intensity that burned in his eyes had grown, and while he could barely speak, he had used a small spell to amplify his voice so that everyone present could hear him. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Allera could still hear his words in the back of her mind, as if the archmage was whispering them in her ear. [i]”The attacks at Albrith and Trajaran were only a harbinger of what is to come,”[/i] he had told them. [i]”The destruction of his temples in Rappan Athuk weakened the Demon, but it is linked to our world, now, and every death it inflicts will increase its strength until it will be capable of unleashing the final doom of everything. There is no question now of what we must do. We must strike and destroy the Demon, or fall trying... and with it, our world.”[/i] The interval of time since their last trip to Rappan Athuk had not been wasted. Both Patriarch Jaduran and Nelan had [i]communed[/i] with Soleus. The power of the Demon was such that direct questions about its activities were met with silence. The information that they had been able to gain had been haphazard and incomplete. They knew that there was a way to access Orcus’s hiding place within Rappan Athuk, but the specific details that they needed had thus far escaped them. But last night, Honoratius had provided the answers they had needed. Almost immediately after he’d come out of the coma that had followed his stroke, even before a cleric could be summoned to tend to his wasted body, he’d demanded a copy of the ancient tome, the [i]Codex Thanara[/i]. There, within the twisted and misleading passages of that deranged text, he had uncovered the clues to finding and destroying their enemy. Perhaps, while lying insensate within the dreamless depths of his sickness, his mind had latched onto some whisper of information that had completed the complex puzzle of deciphering the [i]Codex[/i]. Or perhaps some other agent had placed the clues within his mind. Whatever the source, they now had at least some idea of how they had to proceed. [i]”The place Orcus resides is a demiplane without name, a quasi-reality sustained by its foul existence. It borders on both the Prime and the Abyss, but is part of neither. It cannot be accessed by the usual spells that permit planar travel; it is an anomaly, an aberration that is beyond the rules of the universe that we know. It requires a specific key...”[/i] Honoratius had broken off at that point with a spell of coughing, but Allera remembered that he’d fixed Dar with a peculiar stare, just for a few heartbeats. No one else had commented on it... had she imagined it? When the archmage was finally able to continue, his voice had become a strangled rasp that sounded eerie under the amplification of his spell. [i]”The only entrance to the lair of the Demon is through a level of Rappan Athuk called the Gates of Hell. Powerful guardians dwell there... you must pass through... fire... and water... and madness... The sacrifices... three are keys...”[/i] There had been more than a few concerned looks around the room, Allera recalled. Honoratius had recovered, returned to his usual lucidity in a few moments. But he did not even seem to remember what he’d been saying. Tiros had directed them toward the plan for their assault. The final assault, he had said. Allera shuddered as she recalled all that she had seen—and done—within the dark halls of Rappan Athuk. She had been held prisoner there, by the servants of Orcus. She had battled demons, and abominations, and worse. Was there anything more terrible than those experiences that could outdo the horrors she had already encountered? She shuddered again at the thought. Tiros had stopped speaking, and Allera returned abruptly to the present. There was no applause, no response from the crowd; the gathering was too somber for that. But at least they moved as people who had a purpose now. They all knew their roles in what was to come. Tiros had not told them everything; it was too likely that the Demon could discern their plans. [i]It must know that we will be coming for it[/i], Allera thought. She looked up at Dar, and saw the same thought reflected in his eyes. He smiled at her, but it was clearly forced. “We have a day,” Dar said. “I don’t know about you, but I plan on spending most of it in a bed.” It was a joke, or at least it would have been, before. Something fundamental had changed in Dar, or her, or maybe everything. She joined him, sliding into the space under his left arm. Several people came up to them, but stopped before speaking, sensing their need for a time apart. They left the gathering silently, and vanished into the shadowy corridors of the palace, down halls where the weak sunlight of the winter day failed to dispel the lingering gloom. [/QUOTE]
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