Sepulchrave II
Legend
Feezuu and Mostin
**
The debate raged all morning, and the Duchess, Soraine, called for a recess for an hour after noon. Her head jostled with half a hundred different views, and scenarios which she had not previously considered made her feel ill and depressed.
"The Temple alone can field a thousand knights. If they can convince the king to fully support them, he will muster all of Wyre against us."
"What if they march on Iald first? Are you saying that we may not act?"
"Will Tyndur remain neutral? Will Jiuhu declare for us? Ecclesiastical influence is less entrenched there, but their nobility are notoriously conservative."
"Whatever you decide, as a Uediian I assert my right to protect my people by whatever means I deem necessary. You can stick your Bright God up your arse. It is my feudal duty, and may not be denied by you or anyone else, Soraine."
"We need more men."
"This is a Holy War. We will prevail."
"We need more weapons and armour. We need Thalassine engineers, artillerymen and light cavalry."
"We need more money."
"The hand of Oronthon guides our actions. We must have faith."
"We need to restore the tax burden."
"Nwm needs to take a lead, and unite the Uediian priesthood."
"We should have had this meeting six months ago, but the ‘Instrument of God’ here decided that he’d have visions in the wilderness instead."
And so on, and so forth. The poisoning of wells, guerilla tactics, the likely powers of the Templars on the battlefield, siege warfare, the disorganized and cellular nature of Uediian priests, grain supplies, finances, mercenaries, levies and fyrdsmen, conscription, training regimens. Money. Money. Money.
Eadric and the Duchess spoke privately during the two hour long recess.
"Ryth is right about Nwm," she said. "If he took a lead, persuaded the other priests to unite, they could make a formidable contribution to the effort."
Eadric merely shook his head. "It’s not going to happen," he said. "Nwm despises organized religion with every atom in his body. And he recognizes the potential for disaster: Uedii worshippers are less bound by political allegiance than by ties of kinship and culture. Any movement that he started in Trempa would soon spill over into the rest of Wyre. He must follow the dictates of his own conscience. But he will act when he decides to act, and when he DOES act, then he will not pull his punches."
The Duchess nodded, and recalled the scene outside of her own gates when Brey had been defeated – seemingly quite casually – by the Druid. And Nwm had been largely unprepared for violent conflict.
"Soraine," Eadric said, "our camp is eclectic, to say the least. Not everyone is interested in the religious agenda. You need to unite them, because I cannot – at least not yet. I am most effective on the battlefield, and when that time comes, Tahl tells me that they will rally to me. Until then, this remains in the realm of politics, at which I have little skill."
"When will the Temple act?" Soraine asked. "You must have some idea."
"The pressure is already building," Eadric replied. "Mostin has scried the precincts of the Great Fane on several occasions. Their debates are now over, even as ours are only beginning, and they are arming. We will know soon enough when they march. And I know where the first blow will fall: it is symbolically apt, from their perspective, and is closer to Morne than Trempa itself."
"Deorham," the Duchess sighed. "I’m sorry, Ed."
**
Mostin, who had said little during the morning’s discourse – simultaneously finding the proceedings boring, and lamenting the fact that he was forbidden to blast people by the Injunction – retired to his manse for luncheon.
His walk through the Duchess’ pheasant woods, agreeable at any time of day, was unusually pleasant. The snows had melted, croci and daffodils were beginning to peek through, and the air was warm – at least in the sun. His reverie was not to last long. As he approached his porch, his magical sight* revealed an invisible quasit sitting on the step pulling the feathers from the wings of a bird that it had captured. The quasit, sitting in plain view but confident in its magical screen, looked at Mostin, quickly twisted the bird’s neck, and vanished.
Mostin’s heart pounded. Where was she? She must be here somewhere. He quickly ‘Dimension Doored’ into his cellar and walked through the magical portal into his extradimensional retreat, sealing it behind him. Removing the Looking Glass of Urm-Nahat from his portable hole, he invoked its power, and began to scry the interior of his own home.
Nothing had been disturbed. No evidence of any intruder. He widened his search.
The quasit was no doubt compacted**, he mused, as his magical sensor roamed. Were there other demons nearby? He grunted. The thought was not appealing. Several minutes passed.
There, on his porch. Feezuu. How beautiful she is, Mostin noticed for the first time. Skin like alabaster, her hair deep indigo, and large, almond eyes. And more eyes. And more. Her robe was covered in them. She bore a compound bow of exquisite design across her back, and a longsword hung from her hip.
Feezuu smiled and looked straight into the sensor.
"I know you’re watching, Mostin." She spoke in Abyssal. "I mean you no harm. I have come to trade with you – I have much to offer. I seek a certain spell. I am generous. Will you speak with me?"
Mostin’s mind boggled. Was this a genuine offer, or some duplicity? She was, after all, looking for two creatures posing as devils, and had no reason to suspect him if she did not already possess the dweomer. He waited.
"I must have the ‘Discern Location’ spell, Mostin. You are a powerful diviner. Do you possess it?"
Mostin swallowed. He had no means of communicating with her, unless he left the extradimensional space. He made a mental note of acquiring the ‘message’ spell as soon as possible.
"I am growing impatient, Mostin," she said. "I know little about you, but have already discovered that you are rather timid. I have no quarrel with you."
Mostin let the mirror go blank, and cast an empowered 'cat's grace,' a ‘stoneskin’ and ‘haste,’ and wished that he’d prepared more wards. He grasped his amulet, prayed that its absorptive abilities would work, and exited the ‘Magnificent Mansion.’ Stepping into his cellar, he could already hear crashing sounds upstairs – demons, most likely, rifling through his possessions. Several sets of explosive runes detonated. The Alienist smiled. This time he had the advantage of being on his home turf.
Mostin teleported himself onto the porch. Feezuu stood in the doorway. Behind her, an uridezu rat-demon, several dretch and a dozen quasits were running and flying around inside causing mayhem.
But this time, the Alienist had the jump
Mostin flung an empowered sonically substituted burst of ‘Chain Lightning’ which almost blew the Cambion off of her feet. Inside the house, quasits dropped like flies from the secondary arcs.
Incanting, the Alienist summoned three bearded devils.
"Kill the woman, then the demons," he instructed. "Try not to smash the house up."
As Feezuu turned to see the devils rushing at her, her face suddenly revealed an expression of understanding. She gaped.
With the merest gesture, Mostin hurled another quickened sonic bolt before she could react. Her resistance held, and Mostin grasped his amulet and braced himself.
Feezuu cast a quickened haste, hit Mostin and the devils with an empowered, maximized acid substituted ‘Fireball’ and then aimed a ‘Finger of Death’ at the Alienist. One of the devils vanished, consumed in acid. The necromantic spell was absorbed harmlessly by the amulet, and Mostin thanked several random deities. He looked down to notice that his skin was dripping off of his arms.
The two bearded devils ploughed into the Cambion in a frenzy with their glaives slashing violently at her, causing her to stagger backwards. Mostin cast a quickened ‘magic missile’ and another sonic.
He arrested his ‘Disintegrate’ when he noticed that Feezuu was already lying on the ground.
The uridezu dashed past one of the barbazu in an attempt to escape, but, already suffering from the effects of ‘Explosive Runes’ and the first Sonic, was felled by the devil’s glaive.
The Alienist walked cautiously over to the Necromancer’s body as the devils chased the one remaining quasit around inside his hallway. She was not dead, but teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.
"You?" She laughed. The Sonics had ruptured her internally, and she coughed blood and bile.
Mostin drew his rapier.
Feezuu smiled. "‘Cloned,’" she said.
He plunged it through her neck.
After he had dismissed the devils, the Alienist limped back down the steps into his cellar, selected a bottle of thirty-year old firewine, took a large crystal goblet from his glassware cabinet, and sat on his porch for a minute to gather his thoughts. He glanced inside: his unseen servants were already tidying up the mess, neatly arranging his papers and sweeping up broken glass and porcelain.
He looked at Feezuu’s body. Even if she had already made a simulacrum of herself, he didn’t care. She probably wouldn’t remember any of what had happened, and would be diminished in both personal potency, and influence amongst the fiends of Graz’zt’s Abyssal court. And without her magical items, it would take years for her to regain her power, if she managed it at all.
Mostin downed a glass of firewine, and hobbled over to the corpse. He stood over it like a vulture, before bending down and pulling the longbow free and unfastening the sword belt. A ‘Robe of Eyes.’ Mostin could barely contain his excitement. She bore a ring on each hand, and wore a belt which sported many pockets. He opened one, and was delighted to see that it was an extradimensional storage space of modest size. Rifling through them systematically, he located her books – 3 slender tomes, with neatly written spells filling them.
Mostin spent the rest of the afternoon sat on his porch, absorbed in the books, locating dweomers which he could add to his collection. Two volumes contained only Necromantic spells – of no use to Mostin, but of immense trade value. The third was filled with her auxiliary spells, including many that Mostin did not possess. He flicked to the back, where the more potent dweomers were scribed: ‘Gate Seal,’ ‘Hardening,’ ‘Contingency,’ ‘Acid Storm,’ ‘Eyebite,’ ‘Energy Immunity,’ ‘Vipergout,’ ‘Delayed Blast Fireball.’
Mostin stroked Mogus, and the hedgehog crooned appreciatively.
When Eadric and Nehael rode up at four o’clock in the afternoon to investigate his absence from the council, they were shocked to find Mostin with several layers of skin burned off, sitting and drinking firewine next to a corpse. The Demoness looked at the body.
"Feezuu?" She asked, aghast.
Mostin raised his glass. "Yes, indeed," he said.
*Mostin has a permanent ‘See Invisibility’ cast upon his person.
**Compacting is a way of getting around the restrictions on the various ‘planar binding’ spells. The Demonist or Diabolist makes peaceful contact with the outsider prior to casting the spell, and they strike an agreement. Payment is usually made in Larvae, the universal currency of the Lower Planes. When the ‘planar binding’ is cast, the conjurer purposely breaks the ‘magic circle’ and allows the outsider to gain its freedom. The demon or devil is now secure upon the Prime Plane and, unlike the various ‘Summon Monster’ spells, can remain for an indefinite period.
Needless to say, compacting is very hazardous, and only very powerful spellcasters employ compacts with the higher demons and devils. Not only does it involve an implicit degree of trust between the fiend and the summoner (a rare thing), but also, if overused, has the danger of attracting the attention of celestials – obviously, something which most diabolists would rather avoid.
**
The debate raged all morning, and the Duchess, Soraine, called for a recess for an hour after noon. Her head jostled with half a hundred different views, and scenarios which she had not previously considered made her feel ill and depressed.
"The Temple alone can field a thousand knights. If they can convince the king to fully support them, he will muster all of Wyre against us."
"What if they march on Iald first? Are you saying that we may not act?"
"Will Tyndur remain neutral? Will Jiuhu declare for us? Ecclesiastical influence is less entrenched there, but their nobility are notoriously conservative."
"Whatever you decide, as a Uediian I assert my right to protect my people by whatever means I deem necessary. You can stick your Bright God up your arse. It is my feudal duty, and may not be denied by you or anyone else, Soraine."
"We need more men."
"This is a Holy War. We will prevail."
"We need more weapons and armour. We need Thalassine engineers, artillerymen and light cavalry."
"We need more money."
"The hand of Oronthon guides our actions. We must have faith."
"We need to restore the tax burden."
"Nwm needs to take a lead, and unite the Uediian priesthood."
"We should have had this meeting six months ago, but the ‘Instrument of God’ here decided that he’d have visions in the wilderness instead."
And so on, and so forth. The poisoning of wells, guerilla tactics, the likely powers of the Templars on the battlefield, siege warfare, the disorganized and cellular nature of Uediian priests, grain supplies, finances, mercenaries, levies and fyrdsmen, conscription, training regimens. Money. Money. Money.
Eadric and the Duchess spoke privately during the two hour long recess.
"Ryth is right about Nwm," she said. "If he took a lead, persuaded the other priests to unite, they could make a formidable contribution to the effort."
Eadric merely shook his head. "It’s not going to happen," he said. "Nwm despises organized religion with every atom in his body. And he recognizes the potential for disaster: Uedii worshippers are less bound by political allegiance than by ties of kinship and culture. Any movement that he started in Trempa would soon spill over into the rest of Wyre. He must follow the dictates of his own conscience. But he will act when he decides to act, and when he DOES act, then he will not pull his punches."
The Duchess nodded, and recalled the scene outside of her own gates when Brey had been defeated – seemingly quite casually – by the Druid. And Nwm had been largely unprepared for violent conflict.
"Soraine," Eadric said, "our camp is eclectic, to say the least. Not everyone is interested in the religious agenda. You need to unite them, because I cannot – at least not yet. I am most effective on the battlefield, and when that time comes, Tahl tells me that they will rally to me. Until then, this remains in the realm of politics, at which I have little skill."
"When will the Temple act?" Soraine asked. "You must have some idea."
"The pressure is already building," Eadric replied. "Mostin has scried the precincts of the Great Fane on several occasions. Their debates are now over, even as ours are only beginning, and they are arming. We will know soon enough when they march. And I know where the first blow will fall: it is symbolically apt, from their perspective, and is closer to Morne than Trempa itself."
"Deorham," the Duchess sighed. "I’m sorry, Ed."
**
Mostin, who had said little during the morning’s discourse – simultaneously finding the proceedings boring, and lamenting the fact that he was forbidden to blast people by the Injunction – retired to his manse for luncheon.
His walk through the Duchess’ pheasant woods, agreeable at any time of day, was unusually pleasant. The snows had melted, croci and daffodils were beginning to peek through, and the air was warm – at least in the sun. His reverie was not to last long. As he approached his porch, his magical sight* revealed an invisible quasit sitting on the step pulling the feathers from the wings of a bird that it had captured. The quasit, sitting in plain view but confident in its magical screen, looked at Mostin, quickly twisted the bird’s neck, and vanished.
Mostin’s heart pounded. Where was she? She must be here somewhere. He quickly ‘Dimension Doored’ into his cellar and walked through the magical portal into his extradimensional retreat, sealing it behind him. Removing the Looking Glass of Urm-Nahat from his portable hole, he invoked its power, and began to scry the interior of his own home.
Nothing had been disturbed. No evidence of any intruder. He widened his search.
The quasit was no doubt compacted**, he mused, as his magical sensor roamed. Were there other demons nearby? He grunted. The thought was not appealing. Several minutes passed.
There, on his porch. Feezuu. How beautiful she is, Mostin noticed for the first time. Skin like alabaster, her hair deep indigo, and large, almond eyes. And more eyes. And more. Her robe was covered in them. She bore a compound bow of exquisite design across her back, and a longsword hung from her hip.
Feezuu smiled and looked straight into the sensor.
"I know you’re watching, Mostin." She spoke in Abyssal. "I mean you no harm. I have come to trade with you – I have much to offer. I seek a certain spell. I am generous. Will you speak with me?"
Mostin’s mind boggled. Was this a genuine offer, or some duplicity? She was, after all, looking for two creatures posing as devils, and had no reason to suspect him if she did not already possess the dweomer. He waited.
"I must have the ‘Discern Location’ spell, Mostin. You are a powerful diviner. Do you possess it?"
Mostin swallowed. He had no means of communicating with her, unless he left the extradimensional space. He made a mental note of acquiring the ‘message’ spell as soon as possible.
"I am growing impatient, Mostin," she said. "I know little about you, but have already discovered that you are rather timid. I have no quarrel with you."
Mostin let the mirror go blank, and cast an empowered 'cat's grace,' a ‘stoneskin’ and ‘haste,’ and wished that he’d prepared more wards. He grasped his amulet, prayed that its absorptive abilities would work, and exited the ‘Magnificent Mansion.’ Stepping into his cellar, he could already hear crashing sounds upstairs – demons, most likely, rifling through his possessions. Several sets of explosive runes detonated. The Alienist smiled. This time he had the advantage of being on his home turf.
Mostin teleported himself onto the porch. Feezuu stood in the doorway. Behind her, an uridezu rat-demon, several dretch and a dozen quasits were running and flying around inside causing mayhem.
But this time, the Alienist had the jump
Mostin flung an empowered sonically substituted burst of ‘Chain Lightning’ which almost blew the Cambion off of her feet. Inside the house, quasits dropped like flies from the secondary arcs.
Incanting, the Alienist summoned three bearded devils.
"Kill the woman, then the demons," he instructed. "Try not to smash the house up."
As Feezuu turned to see the devils rushing at her, her face suddenly revealed an expression of understanding. She gaped.
With the merest gesture, Mostin hurled another quickened sonic bolt before she could react. Her resistance held, and Mostin grasped his amulet and braced himself.
Feezuu cast a quickened haste, hit Mostin and the devils with an empowered, maximized acid substituted ‘Fireball’ and then aimed a ‘Finger of Death’ at the Alienist. One of the devils vanished, consumed in acid. The necromantic spell was absorbed harmlessly by the amulet, and Mostin thanked several random deities. He looked down to notice that his skin was dripping off of his arms.
The two bearded devils ploughed into the Cambion in a frenzy with their glaives slashing violently at her, causing her to stagger backwards. Mostin cast a quickened ‘magic missile’ and another sonic.
He arrested his ‘Disintegrate’ when he noticed that Feezuu was already lying on the ground.
The uridezu dashed past one of the barbazu in an attempt to escape, but, already suffering from the effects of ‘Explosive Runes’ and the first Sonic, was felled by the devil’s glaive.
The Alienist walked cautiously over to the Necromancer’s body as the devils chased the one remaining quasit around inside his hallway. She was not dead, but teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.
"You?" She laughed. The Sonics had ruptured her internally, and she coughed blood and bile.
Mostin drew his rapier.
Feezuu smiled. "‘Cloned,’" she said.
He plunged it through her neck.
After he had dismissed the devils, the Alienist limped back down the steps into his cellar, selected a bottle of thirty-year old firewine, took a large crystal goblet from his glassware cabinet, and sat on his porch for a minute to gather his thoughts. He glanced inside: his unseen servants were already tidying up the mess, neatly arranging his papers and sweeping up broken glass and porcelain.
He looked at Feezuu’s body. Even if she had already made a simulacrum of herself, he didn’t care. She probably wouldn’t remember any of what had happened, and would be diminished in both personal potency, and influence amongst the fiends of Graz’zt’s Abyssal court. And without her magical items, it would take years for her to regain her power, if she managed it at all.
Mostin downed a glass of firewine, and hobbled over to the corpse. He stood over it like a vulture, before bending down and pulling the longbow free and unfastening the sword belt. A ‘Robe of Eyes.’ Mostin could barely contain his excitement. She bore a ring on each hand, and wore a belt which sported many pockets. He opened one, and was delighted to see that it was an extradimensional storage space of modest size. Rifling through them systematically, he located her books – 3 slender tomes, with neatly written spells filling them.
Mostin spent the rest of the afternoon sat on his porch, absorbed in the books, locating dweomers which he could add to his collection. Two volumes contained only Necromantic spells – of no use to Mostin, but of immense trade value. The third was filled with her auxiliary spells, including many that Mostin did not possess. He flicked to the back, where the more potent dweomers were scribed: ‘Gate Seal,’ ‘Hardening,’ ‘Contingency,’ ‘Acid Storm,’ ‘Eyebite,’ ‘Energy Immunity,’ ‘Vipergout,’ ‘Delayed Blast Fireball.’
Mostin stroked Mogus, and the hedgehog crooned appreciatively.
When Eadric and Nehael rode up at four o’clock in the afternoon to investigate his absence from the council, they were shocked to find Mostin with several layers of skin burned off, sitting and drinking firewine next to a corpse. The Demoness looked at the body.
"Feezuu?" She asked, aghast.
Mostin raised his glass. "Yes, indeed," he said.
*Mostin has a permanent ‘See Invisibility’ cast upon his person.
**Compacting is a way of getting around the restrictions on the various ‘planar binding’ spells. The Demonist or Diabolist makes peaceful contact with the outsider prior to casting the spell, and they strike an agreement. Payment is usually made in Larvae, the universal currency of the Lower Planes. When the ‘planar binding’ is cast, the conjurer purposely breaks the ‘magic circle’ and allows the outsider to gain its freedom. The demon or devil is now secure upon the Prime Plane and, unlike the various ‘Summon Monster’ spells, can remain for an indefinite period.
Needless to say, compacting is very hazardous, and only very powerful spellcasters employ compacts with the higher demons and devils. Not only does it involve an implicit degree of trust between the fiend and the summoner (a rare thing), but also, if overused, has the danger of attracting the attention of celestials – obviously, something which most diabolists would rather avoid.
