The Heretic of Wyre - Part II
- Thread starter Sepulchrave II
- Start date
Sepulchrave II
Legend
An update - the first of two or three, hopefully.
Some questions for you out there (which I suppose I could post in another forum, but as I'm here...)
I've just got hold of the ELH (late, I know). Mostin's player, Dan, has had it for a while. He's pestered me for some answers, so I thought I'd pester you.
1. The 'Summon' spell seed is described as 'will negates, SR applies' but the epic summoning spells listed have neither. Is there a misprint, or am I missing something?
2. There is no 'Call' spell seed. Is this intentional? An oversight? If it existed it would have a spellcraft of 23. Obviously, this seed is kind of vital to my campaign flavour. Any feeback appreciated.
3. Discussion of the new 'Pseudonatural' template has arisen (both in-game and out of it, see post below), and I'm happy to use both templates (the one from T&B and the one from the ELH), as representing different orders of Pseudonatural beings. Retrofitting is quite simple. Dan is bending his mind already to the invention of 2 epic spells - one, allowing the caster to assume the 'lesser' pseudonatural template from T&B, the other allowing the caster to assume the 'greater' template described in the ELH. I realize that these would be very high spellcraft spells, but I haven't yet got my head fully around the mechanics (has anyone?). There seems to be a lot of guesswork & arbitrariness. Input appreciated.
**
"I think that some kind of disguise might be in order," Ortwin said, scratching one of his hairy haunches with his left hoof. "Don’t get me wrong – I like it and everything – it’s just, well, conspicuous isn’t it? Being a Half-Elf was bad enough if I want to be – er – incognito, if you catch my drift, but this is rather harder to hide."
"I could make you a Hat of Disguise," Mostin offered. Since the death of the Cambion, he had visibly relaxed.
"Mmm, yes," Ortwin said. "Of course, it wouldn’t look like one of your hats, would it Mostin?"
The Alienist sniffed. "Obviously, you lack the panache to carry off something as distinguished as one of my hats. But such a hat would appear however you wished it to, as would you – within generally bipedal constraints, of course."
"That sounds splendid," Ortwin said. "How long would it take you to enchant such a hat? How much would you charge me for it?"
"Well, Change Self…" Mostin began.
"Alter Self would be nicer," Ortwin smiled disarmingly.
"So would Shapechange," Mostin said sarcastically. "I had planned to give it to you, as a favour, but because you’ve been so rude…"
"Change Self will be just fine, Mostin," Ortwin interrupted. "And thank-you, that’s very decent of you."
"Yes, it is," the Alienist agreed haughtily.
**
Unfortunately for Ortwin, none of Feezuu’s considerable wealth found its way into his purse. Upon discovering her cache of gold and silk, Eadric had asked a squad of devas to distribute it equitably amongst the outlying encampments nearest Khu, prior to the Celestials’ departure.
Paladins, the Bard had sighed.
Groups of nomads were surprised – and, after their initial terror, delighted – to find winged messengers depositing bags of precious goods outside of their skin tents. Most had suffered losses from Feezuu.
Mostin had inspected the glass tube he had taken from Feezuu’s corpse. It still contained fifteen motes – soul currency with which transactions on the Lower Planes were made. He had slipped it into his pocket, but a look of stern reproof from a Planetar, whose true seeing had immediately recognized the morphed larvae for what they were, had persuaded him to render it to the Celestial.
"Er, here are some souls," Mostin had said, looking away and holding out his hand.
The cells beneath the vaulted chambers of the mausoleum and crypt had contained a grizzly collection of body parts, live subjects being drained of blood, and an uncompleted flesh golem. When subjected to the Eye of Palamabron, other secrets had been revealed. The lowest chamber, warded against the most powerful of divinations, revealed an incomplete phylactery which Feezuu had been attempting to construct.
Mostin swallowed. As a lich, there was no doubting who would have finally prevailed in their feud.
After the prisoners had been tended and released, Nwm used his power to open the roof of the mausoleum, and light flooded in. Celestials descended into the lowest catacombs, and purified them.
The Ancient Gods of Shûth dreamed more easily.
**
In the days which followed the assassination of Lord Rede of Dramore, the Grand Master of the Temple and Interim Lord Protector of Orthodoxy, the remnant of the Curia met to discuss the ongoing situation. A variety of proposals were made, although rulings upon their truth were postponed until the current hubbub subsided. Neither the Bishops of Kaurban or Jiuhu attended, leaving the five episcopacies to mull over policy. Unexpectedly, Hethio did not attend either, apparently succumbing to a bout of sickness. Delighted at the absence of one who had become his arch-nemesis, the Bishop of Tyndur – who had ‘found his teeth,’ as Rede had put it – sowed as much discord as possible amongst the remaining Bishops. The consensus was still against him, but the zeal which had characterized earlier meetings was absent.
Rede cannot have fallen from grace, else the Curia would have been incorrect in its initial backing of him – which was patently absurd, because the Curia determined what the truth was. Rede must, therefore, have been a martyr to the truth and, like Melion, deserved beatification.
The Temple and the Inquisition – both arms of the Church Magistratum – were now leaderless. Brey was the logical successor to the Temple, although arguments were made that the Magistratum should now be consolidated into a single body, and Brey was not the man for the job.
The presence of the pagan, Nwm, and the demoness, were generally agreed to be connected with Rede’s murder, although in what capacity none could guess. The Templars who had been present related events as they remembered them, although no full picture had emerged – the wall of thorns had blocked many details of the exchange between the Druid and Rede. But no Taint had been detected by the three Paladins amongst them.
Should the Curia authorize the further use of the scroll cache amongst the warrior-clerics again? They were rapidly running out of casters of sufficient power to even attempt their safe use.
Since the disappearance of Tramst, no clergy of adequate ability existed to use appropriate divinations with regard to the murder of Rede.* And with Oronthon’s continued silence, communion with the Deity was impossible.
How long would that last? Many wondered.
More mundane issues were discussed. The deployment and provisioning of the Temple troops in Tomur, those in the Nund valley near Trempa, and the continued blockade of Iald. Finances were not inexhaustible, and the king was still delaying in committing royal resources. Wars and sieges were expensive.
Meanwhile, whilst the four Bishops spoke candidly about the dilemmas which beset them, Hethio was dealing with his own remorse. His sickness was feigned, and he spent a good deal of time in acts of self-mortification in order to expunge his guilt at the murder of Rede.
Because, when the Bishop of Hethio had attempted to approach the hallowed altar of the Fane in Morne, he found that he could not. Centuries earlier, Tersimion had placed potent wards upon the dais, and, suddenly, Hethio found himself subject to them.**
Hethio knew what it meant, and should the gaze of even the lowliest Paladin be directed towards him, he knew what it would reveal.
Still, he rationalized whilst striking himself across the back with his scourge, the Taint was surely of a temporary variety. He had, after all, acted in the best interests of the Temple.
**
Mostin made the hat for Ortwin in two days, became bored, vacillated, and decided to visit Shomei.
He thought that, rather than simply arriving on her doorstep and waiting, issuing a sending would be politic. He had not had a chance to use the spell since his acquisition of it from Feezuu’s books.
Greetings Shomei. Your information useful, if flawed. I suspect you were duped. I would like to confer. I will scry, then teleport to your location.
Within seconds, the return message arrived.
No. Resolving other matters. Meet me at my manse in one hour.
Hmm, Mostin thought. He wondered what the ‘other matters’ were. Still, it behooved him not to pry to much. He waited impatiently for an hour, and stepped through the mirror of Urm-Nahat.
He appeared outside of the huge, wrought iron gates of her estate, three miles from Morne. Moments later, they swung open noisily, and Mostin began to trudge down the gravel driveway, flanked by enormous, brooding trees of a species not native to Wyre. Or the Prime, for that matter, he thought. A whispering wind reached his ears.
Do not leave the pathway
Not likely, he thought.
Shomei’s mansion was vast, of a size comparable to the ducal castle at Trempa. It boasted six hundred rooms, and was squarely situated within a thousand acres of land, at the centre of a great bowl in the hills. Devils had, purportedly, been employed in its construction, and the great, sweeping balustrades and buttresses, of an infinitely complex design which seemed to defy gravity, lent credence to the theory. The doors, fashioned from black iron and carved in intricate relief, opened noiselessly as the Alienist approached.
A spined devil waited for him, its wings flapping as it hovered in the air. It gestured, and Mostin followed it through a winding maze of corridors, hallways and antechambers, into a large but comfortable drawing room. A purple fire burned in the hearth. Mostin sat and poured himself a large glass of brandywine from a crystal decanter, threw his boots off, sank into a couch made from fiendish leather, and waited.
Shomei appeared only a minute later, through a door that Mostin had not noticed in the east wall. She moved, even here, as though she was in a hurry.
"My apologies," she said immediately. "I discovered that I had been subjected to a ruse only yesterday. The devil who brought me tidings turned out not to be a devil after all, but, in fact, the duplicitous Xerulko."
"Graz’zt is cunning, as I said," Mostin reminded her. "And bolder since his freedom."***
"Thank-you for the lesson," she said ironically. "But the daemon will be causing no more trouble. Impersonating a diabolic herald is a risky enterprise."
"Devils have punished him?" Mostin asked, amazed.
"Not exactly," Shomei explained. "I have trapped him within a thaumaturgic diagram. Perhaps you would like to come and inspect him?"
Mostin raised his eyebrows. "Shomei, I appreciate the gesture, but the business with Feezuu is resolved permanently. I have no need of your ‘help.’"
She scowled. "I have not entrapped Xerulko for your benefit, but for mine. Such a deception cannot go unpunished, or I would lose all respect. He has slighted me, and I must exact revenge.
"Mostin, listen very carefully to me. There comes a point in a mage’s career when, willing or no, he or she begins to attract the attention of those who may perceive in him or her a prospective ally, or a potential threat. This is doubly true of those who specialize in summonings, and bindings and callings. You are at that point. You are on the verge of mastering the most potent of dweomers. You need dependable allies. If not devils, have you considered celestials?"
Mostin laughed uneasily.
"Exactly," Shomei said. "Mostin, you are a natural Goetic Magician. You do not need an external locus of morality to tell you which acts are ‘Good’ and which are ‘Evil.’ Devils are wicked, but very, very efficient. If you bind them to your Will, you can achieve a great deal. They are tools. They can aid you in your quest for apotheosis. Vhorzhe understood as much."
Mostin shook his head. "But Vhorzhe did not rely solely upon any one kind of outsider. And I have surpassed him now. You are right: I do not need to be told the difference between good and evil. But I will not be subject to any other’s agenda – including yours, Shomei. You are shackled, whether you admit it or not, and you cannot move without considering the reaction it will evince in the court of Dispater, or Belial, or whoever else is granting you favours. Your independence is compromised. I could not abide that. I must determine my own fate."
"Perhaps you underestimate my resourcefulness," Shomei said slyly. But she seemed troubled. Mostin felt that he had touched a raw nerve.
"Perhaps I do," Mostin admitted. "But I would no sooner be indebted to a Devil than a Celestial. Although I freely admit that Celestials are scarier."
"On that much we agree, at least," she nodded. "Who will you look to for help, Mostin?"
"The Pseudonaturals," the Alienist replied. "As always. Shomei, I am only just beginning to apprehend them. Beyond those that I have dealt with already, there are those of truly awesome power."
"They are monstrous, Mostin. And those others that you speak of cannot be summoned."
"No," he replied. "But they can be called. And bound."
"Vhorzhe tried, and failed," the Infernalist said.
"I am not Vhorzhe," the Alienist replied. "I am Mostin, the Metagnostic."
**
Whilst Mostin spent a week with Shomei, discussing esoteric matters and renewing a friendship that had been allowed to drift apart, Eadric drilled his troops and prepared for the message from Rintrah that he knew must soon come.
Tahl and those who had defected with the Inquisitor from Morne, as well as the penitent Templars and the Paladins who had remained in Trempa, now formed the steel core of his supporters. At every available opportunity, Eadric spoke with the more agnostic members of Trempa’s aristocracy, impressing upon them the need for unity, and the holiness of his mission. He diplomatically addressed their frippery, and their laxity, and enjoined them to commit themselves fully to purging the Temple of the corruption which beset it.
His persuasive arguments, combined with his force of personality, slowly began to bear fruit amongst the nobility. Still, Tahl reminded him that until he was tested upon the battlefield, the overarching unity of purpose that the Paladin sought would not be realized.
Ryth had ridden in haste from the north, where his archers were engaged in what seemed like would turn into a dirty, protracted guerilla conflict with Temple troops in Tomur. The enemy were sending raiding parties across the Nund and continually testing the resolve of the Uediian militias there. Eadric – in Soraine’s name - immediately summoned the aristocracy for conference. In fact, the Duchess was gradually and subtly relinquishing her nominal command of the effort to the Paladin.
Ryth, who had spent three weeks in the field and had shed quantities of enemy blood, was less belligerent than previously.
The meeting was still fraught, however. The western side of the Nund, beyond a narrow swathe owned by the Duke of Kaurban, was a royal demesne. Whilst it seemed possible that the King would not intervene in a strictly internal Temple affair, as soon as it spilled over onto lands owned by the crown, some form of retribution could be expected. Once the cells of Temple troops had been ousted from their encampments – assuming they could be – any pursuit would draw Trempa’s forces across land owned by the King. And it was already well-known that the Temple was petitioning for royal aid – the King himself was, after all, supposed to be an exemplar of Orthodoxy.
And then there was Morne itself to consider.
Any attempt to invest the city would be met with overwhelming force, and Eadric held no illusions about what would happen if he met the royal army in the field.
"We are interested in the Temple, not Morne itself," Tahl remarked.
"I doubt the King will see it that way," Eadric observed laconically.
"We should go and chat with him," Ortwin said casually. "It’s long overdue. I’ve met him once or twice before. He seems nice enough, if a little petulant."
Ryth spat. "He is a spineless boy."
And therein lay the problem. The reason that no royal intervention had occurred. The reason that the powerful magnates of Wyre were roaming around with private armies in the true fashion of ‘overmighty subjects.’ The reason that no cohesive policy had emerged in the temporal governance of Wyre for more than a decade. The reason why Temple power had gone unchecked for so long. And probably the reason that, heretofore, he has been mentioned in this story only in passing.
Because the King of Wyre, Tiuhan IV, was a spoiled boy of twelve years, manipulated by relatives who comprised the bulk of Wyre’s greatest aristocracy.
Eadric sighed. Unfortunately, Ortwin was right.
*Tramst (Cleric 9 / Divine Oracle 2), who had stood on the very spot where Feezuu had slain Cynric, had interacted with her Taint and used a legend lore to determine her identity. Note that Divine Oracles within the church of Oronthon aren’t necessarily as ‘wayward’ as the PrC in Defenders of the Faith would appear. Historically, oracular vision has been a vital adjunct to the Inquisition’s work.
**The High Altar in the Great Fane is protected by a Permanent Antipathy towards creatures of all evil alignments.
***The Binding of Graz’zt – an act accomplished by the Wizard Fillein and his cabal - over three hundred years previously, and a seminal example of cooperative magic. The Great Mage had drawn on the abilities of six other spellcasters of significant power.
Graz’zt was chained for fifty-five years. When he finally gained his freedom, he was irked to find that all but one of his former captors had already died.
Fillein himself had disappeared, and was never found.
Some questions for you out there (which I suppose I could post in another forum, but as I'm here...)
I've just got hold of the ELH (late, I know). Mostin's player, Dan, has had it for a while. He's pestered me for some answers, so I thought I'd pester you.
1. The 'Summon' spell seed is described as 'will negates, SR applies' but the epic summoning spells listed have neither. Is there a misprint, or am I missing something?
2. There is no 'Call' spell seed. Is this intentional? An oversight? If it existed it would have a spellcraft of 23. Obviously, this seed is kind of vital to my campaign flavour. Any feeback appreciated.
3. Discussion of the new 'Pseudonatural' template has arisen (both in-game and out of it, see post below), and I'm happy to use both templates (the one from T&B and the one from the ELH), as representing different orders of Pseudonatural beings. Retrofitting is quite simple. Dan is bending his mind already to the invention of 2 epic spells - one, allowing the caster to assume the 'lesser' pseudonatural template from T&B, the other allowing the caster to assume the 'greater' template described in the ELH. I realize that these would be very high spellcraft spells, but I haven't yet got my head fully around the mechanics (has anyone?). There seems to be a lot of guesswork & arbitrariness. Input appreciated.
**
"I think that some kind of disguise might be in order," Ortwin said, scratching one of his hairy haunches with his left hoof. "Don’t get me wrong – I like it and everything – it’s just, well, conspicuous isn’t it? Being a Half-Elf was bad enough if I want to be – er – incognito, if you catch my drift, but this is rather harder to hide."
"I could make you a Hat of Disguise," Mostin offered. Since the death of the Cambion, he had visibly relaxed.
"Mmm, yes," Ortwin said. "Of course, it wouldn’t look like one of your hats, would it Mostin?"
The Alienist sniffed. "Obviously, you lack the panache to carry off something as distinguished as one of my hats. But such a hat would appear however you wished it to, as would you – within generally bipedal constraints, of course."
"That sounds splendid," Ortwin said. "How long would it take you to enchant such a hat? How much would you charge me for it?"
"Well, Change Self…" Mostin began.
"Alter Self would be nicer," Ortwin smiled disarmingly.
"So would Shapechange," Mostin said sarcastically. "I had planned to give it to you, as a favour, but because you’ve been so rude…"
"Change Self will be just fine, Mostin," Ortwin interrupted. "And thank-you, that’s very decent of you."
"Yes, it is," the Alienist agreed haughtily.
**
Unfortunately for Ortwin, none of Feezuu’s considerable wealth found its way into his purse. Upon discovering her cache of gold and silk, Eadric had asked a squad of devas to distribute it equitably amongst the outlying encampments nearest Khu, prior to the Celestials’ departure.
Paladins, the Bard had sighed.
Groups of nomads were surprised – and, after their initial terror, delighted – to find winged messengers depositing bags of precious goods outside of their skin tents. Most had suffered losses from Feezuu.
Mostin had inspected the glass tube he had taken from Feezuu’s corpse. It still contained fifteen motes – soul currency with which transactions on the Lower Planes were made. He had slipped it into his pocket, but a look of stern reproof from a Planetar, whose true seeing had immediately recognized the morphed larvae for what they were, had persuaded him to render it to the Celestial.
"Er, here are some souls," Mostin had said, looking away and holding out his hand.
The cells beneath the vaulted chambers of the mausoleum and crypt had contained a grizzly collection of body parts, live subjects being drained of blood, and an uncompleted flesh golem. When subjected to the Eye of Palamabron, other secrets had been revealed. The lowest chamber, warded against the most powerful of divinations, revealed an incomplete phylactery which Feezuu had been attempting to construct.
Mostin swallowed. As a lich, there was no doubting who would have finally prevailed in their feud.
After the prisoners had been tended and released, Nwm used his power to open the roof of the mausoleum, and light flooded in. Celestials descended into the lowest catacombs, and purified them.
The Ancient Gods of Shûth dreamed more easily.
**
In the days which followed the assassination of Lord Rede of Dramore, the Grand Master of the Temple and Interim Lord Protector of Orthodoxy, the remnant of the Curia met to discuss the ongoing situation. A variety of proposals were made, although rulings upon their truth were postponed until the current hubbub subsided. Neither the Bishops of Kaurban or Jiuhu attended, leaving the five episcopacies to mull over policy. Unexpectedly, Hethio did not attend either, apparently succumbing to a bout of sickness. Delighted at the absence of one who had become his arch-nemesis, the Bishop of Tyndur – who had ‘found his teeth,’ as Rede had put it – sowed as much discord as possible amongst the remaining Bishops. The consensus was still against him, but the zeal which had characterized earlier meetings was absent.
Rede cannot have fallen from grace, else the Curia would have been incorrect in its initial backing of him – which was patently absurd, because the Curia determined what the truth was. Rede must, therefore, have been a martyr to the truth and, like Melion, deserved beatification.
The Temple and the Inquisition – both arms of the Church Magistratum – were now leaderless. Brey was the logical successor to the Temple, although arguments were made that the Magistratum should now be consolidated into a single body, and Brey was not the man for the job.
The presence of the pagan, Nwm, and the demoness, were generally agreed to be connected with Rede’s murder, although in what capacity none could guess. The Templars who had been present related events as they remembered them, although no full picture had emerged – the wall of thorns had blocked many details of the exchange between the Druid and Rede. But no Taint had been detected by the three Paladins amongst them.
Should the Curia authorize the further use of the scroll cache amongst the warrior-clerics again? They were rapidly running out of casters of sufficient power to even attempt their safe use.
Since the disappearance of Tramst, no clergy of adequate ability existed to use appropriate divinations with regard to the murder of Rede.* And with Oronthon’s continued silence, communion with the Deity was impossible.
How long would that last? Many wondered.
More mundane issues were discussed. The deployment and provisioning of the Temple troops in Tomur, those in the Nund valley near Trempa, and the continued blockade of Iald. Finances were not inexhaustible, and the king was still delaying in committing royal resources. Wars and sieges were expensive.
Meanwhile, whilst the four Bishops spoke candidly about the dilemmas which beset them, Hethio was dealing with his own remorse. His sickness was feigned, and he spent a good deal of time in acts of self-mortification in order to expunge his guilt at the murder of Rede.
Because, when the Bishop of Hethio had attempted to approach the hallowed altar of the Fane in Morne, he found that he could not. Centuries earlier, Tersimion had placed potent wards upon the dais, and, suddenly, Hethio found himself subject to them.**
Hethio knew what it meant, and should the gaze of even the lowliest Paladin be directed towards him, he knew what it would reveal.
Still, he rationalized whilst striking himself across the back with his scourge, the Taint was surely of a temporary variety. He had, after all, acted in the best interests of the Temple.
**
Mostin made the hat for Ortwin in two days, became bored, vacillated, and decided to visit Shomei.
He thought that, rather than simply arriving on her doorstep and waiting, issuing a sending would be politic. He had not had a chance to use the spell since his acquisition of it from Feezuu’s books.
Greetings Shomei. Your information useful, if flawed. I suspect you were duped. I would like to confer. I will scry, then teleport to your location.
Within seconds, the return message arrived.
No. Resolving other matters. Meet me at my manse in one hour.
Hmm, Mostin thought. He wondered what the ‘other matters’ were. Still, it behooved him not to pry to much. He waited impatiently for an hour, and stepped through the mirror of Urm-Nahat.
He appeared outside of the huge, wrought iron gates of her estate, three miles from Morne. Moments later, they swung open noisily, and Mostin began to trudge down the gravel driveway, flanked by enormous, brooding trees of a species not native to Wyre. Or the Prime, for that matter, he thought. A whispering wind reached his ears.
Do not leave the pathway
Not likely, he thought.
Shomei’s mansion was vast, of a size comparable to the ducal castle at Trempa. It boasted six hundred rooms, and was squarely situated within a thousand acres of land, at the centre of a great bowl in the hills. Devils had, purportedly, been employed in its construction, and the great, sweeping balustrades and buttresses, of an infinitely complex design which seemed to defy gravity, lent credence to the theory. The doors, fashioned from black iron and carved in intricate relief, opened noiselessly as the Alienist approached.
A spined devil waited for him, its wings flapping as it hovered in the air. It gestured, and Mostin followed it through a winding maze of corridors, hallways and antechambers, into a large but comfortable drawing room. A purple fire burned in the hearth. Mostin sat and poured himself a large glass of brandywine from a crystal decanter, threw his boots off, sank into a couch made from fiendish leather, and waited.
Shomei appeared only a minute later, through a door that Mostin had not noticed in the east wall. She moved, even here, as though she was in a hurry.
"My apologies," she said immediately. "I discovered that I had been subjected to a ruse only yesterday. The devil who brought me tidings turned out not to be a devil after all, but, in fact, the duplicitous Xerulko."
"Graz’zt is cunning, as I said," Mostin reminded her. "And bolder since his freedom."***
"Thank-you for the lesson," she said ironically. "But the daemon will be causing no more trouble. Impersonating a diabolic herald is a risky enterprise."
"Devils have punished him?" Mostin asked, amazed.
"Not exactly," Shomei explained. "I have trapped him within a thaumaturgic diagram. Perhaps you would like to come and inspect him?"
Mostin raised his eyebrows. "Shomei, I appreciate the gesture, but the business with Feezuu is resolved permanently. I have no need of your ‘help.’"
She scowled. "I have not entrapped Xerulko for your benefit, but for mine. Such a deception cannot go unpunished, or I would lose all respect. He has slighted me, and I must exact revenge.
"Mostin, listen very carefully to me. There comes a point in a mage’s career when, willing or no, he or she begins to attract the attention of those who may perceive in him or her a prospective ally, or a potential threat. This is doubly true of those who specialize in summonings, and bindings and callings. You are at that point. You are on the verge of mastering the most potent of dweomers. You need dependable allies. If not devils, have you considered celestials?"
Mostin laughed uneasily.
"Exactly," Shomei said. "Mostin, you are a natural Goetic Magician. You do not need an external locus of morality to tell you which acts are ‘Good’ and which are ‘Evil.’ Devils are wicked, but very, very efficient. If you bind them to your Will, you can achieve a great deal. They are tools. They can aid you in your quest for apotheosis. Vhorzhe understood as much."
Mostin shook his head. "But Vhorzhe did not rely solely upon any one kind of outsider. And I have surpassed him now. You are right: I do not need to be told the difference between good and evil. But I will not be subject to any other’s agenda – including yours, Shomei. You are shackled, whether you admit it or not, and you cannot move without considering the reaction it will evince in the court of Dispater, or Belial, or whoever else is granting you favours. Your independence is compromised. I could not abide that. I must determine my own fate."
"Perhaps you underestimate my resourcefulness," Shomei said slyly. But she seemed troubled. Mostin felt that he had touched a raw nerve.
"Perhaps I do," Mostin admitted. "But I would no sooner be indebted to a Devil than a Celestial. Although I freely admit that Celestials are scarier."
"On that much we agree, at least," she nodded. "Who will you look to for help, Mostin?"
"The Pseudonaturals," the Alienist replied. "As always. Shomei, I am only just beginning to apprehend them. Beyond those that I have dealt with already, there are those of truly awesome power."
"They are monstrous, Mostin. And those others that you speak of cannot be summoned."
"No," he replied. "But they can be called. And bound."
"Vhorzhe tried, and failed," the Infernalist said.
"I am not Vhorzhe," the Alienist replied. "I am Mostin, the Metagnostic."
**
Whilst Mostin spent a week with Shomei, discussing esoteric matters and renewing a friendship that had been allowed to drift apart, Eadric drilled his troops and prepared for the message from Rintrah that he knew must soon come.
Tahl and those who had defected with the Inquisitor from Morne, as well as the penitent Templars and the Paladins who had remained in Trempa, now formed the steel core of his supporters. At every available opportunity, Eadric spoke with the more agnostic members of Trempa’s aristocracy, impressing upon them the need for unity, and the holiness of his mission. He diplomatically addressed their frippery, and their laxity, and enjoined them to commit themselves fully to purging the Temple of the corruption which beset it.
His persuasive arguments, combined with his force of personality, slowly began to bear fruit amongst the nobility. Still, Tahl reminded him that until he was tested upon the battlefield, the overarching unity of purpose that the Paladin sought would not be realized.
Ryth had ridden in haste from the north, where his archers were engaged in what seemed like would turn into a dirty, protracted guerilla conflict with Temple troops in Tomur. The enemy were sending raiding parties across the Nund and continually testing the resolve of the Uediian militias there. Eadric – in Soraine’s name - immediately summoned the aristocracy for conference. In fact, the Duchess was gradually and subtly relinquishing her nominal command of the effort to the Paladin.
Ryth, who had spent three weeks in the field and had shed quantities of enemy blood, was less belligerent than previously.
The meeting was still fraught, however. The western side of the Nund, beyond a narrow swathe owned by the Duke of Kaurban, was a royal demesne. Whilst it seemed possible that the King would not intervene in a strictly internal Temple affair, as soon as it spilled over onto lands owned by the crown, some form of retribution could be expected. Once the cells of Temple troops had been ousted from their encampments – assuming they could be – any pursuit would draw Trempa’s forces across land owned by the King. And it was already well-known that the Temple was petitioning for royal aid – the King himself was, after all, supposed to be an exemplar of Orthodoxy.
And then there was Morne itself to consider.
Any attempt to invest the city would be met with overwhelming force, and Eadric held no illusions about what would happen if he met the royal army in the field.
"We are interested in the Temple, not Morne itself," Tahl remarked.
"I doubt the King will see it that way," Eadric observed laconically.
"We should go and chat with him," Ortwin said casually. "It’s long overdue. I’ve met him once or twice before. He seems nice enough, if a little petulant."
Ryth spat. "He is a spineless boy."
And therein lay the problem. The reason that no royal intervention had occurred. The reason that the powerful magnates of Wyre were roaming around with private armies in the true fashion of ‘overmighty subjects.’ The reason that no cohesive policy had emerged in the temporal governance of Wyre for more than a decade. The reason why Temple power had gone unchecked for so long. And probably the reason that, heretofore, he has been mentioned in this story only in passing.
Because the King of Wyre, Tiuhan IV, was a spoiled boy of twelve years, manipulated by relatives who comprised the bulk of Wyre’s greatest aristocracy.
Eadric sighed. Unfortunately, Ortwin was right.
*Tramst (Cleric 9 / Divine Oracle 2), who had stood on the very spot where Feezuu had slain Cynric, had interacted with her Taint and used a legend lore to determine her identity. Note that Divine Oracles within the church of Oronthon aren’t necessarily as ‘wayward’ as the PrC in Defenders of the Faith would appear. Historically, oracular vision has been a vital adjunct to the Inquisition’s work.
**The High Altar in the Great Fane is protected by a Permanent Antipathy towards creatures of all evil alignments.
***The Binding of Graz’zt – an act accomplished by the Wizard Fillein and his cabal - over three hundred years previously, and a seminal example of cooperative magic. The Great Mage had drawn on the abilities of six other spellcasters of significant power.
Graz’zt was chained for fifty-five years. When he finally gained his freedom, he was irked to find that all but one of his former captors had already died.
Fillein himself had disappeared, and was never found.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Well I guess the heroes will throw in their petition to the King. This is very cool...secular and extraplanar politics...I love the intrigue.
Thanks sep...am trying to capture and implement alot of your outsider intervention in my campaign!
What's Nwm up to? And Nahael?
What about the demons who were beat up?
Thanks sep...am trying to capture and implement alot of your outsider intervention in my campaign!
What's Nwm up to? And Nahael?
What about the demons who were beat up?
Green Knight
First Post
Damn. Seems Hethio has gone from Lawful Neutral to Lawful Evil. Didn't Cheiromancer forsee this? Well, if you did, you've got one hell of an eye.
Good one, Sep. Can't wait for the next 2 updates. Also can't wait to see what will happen with the king.
Cheiromancer
Adventurer
The 'Summon' spell seed works like Monster Summoning I, and doesn't allow a save if a generic creature is conjured. If a specific individual is summoned, there is a save and spell resistance applies.
There is no 'Call' seed- you are use the 'Summon' spell seed, instead.
For self-transformation spells, I would use Gathering of Maggots as a benchmark. That spell includes a +5 DC for changing creature type to ooze, and a +40 DC for the thing's spell-like, extraordinary and supernatural abilities. How exactly they calculate +40, I don't know. The worm that walks has a CR of +3 over the original character, so the following would work:
'Life' spell seed: DC 27
'Transform' spell seed: DC 21
Increase in CR: 15 per +1
Mitigating factors: to taste
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