The Liberation of Tenh (updated April 24)

[Rackhir]

OK, I'm writing the next update(s) right now. We promises, precious.

"Tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap,tap"

 

[(contact)]

Be advised, your update is inbound.

Coldeven 6, CY 593
90—Killing your way through the self-help section

It is the greatest treasure any of the Liberators have ever seen; the legendary city of Tovag Baragu’s secrets of self-perfection condensed into six volumes. The six books are arrayed reverentially on a large serving-table shoved against the wall in Nevond Nevnend’s auxiliary dining hall.

Lucius narrows his eyes and cuts his gaze toward Hastur; the dwarf lounges in a tall chair, one fur-knuckled hand busily chasing a wandering itch across his neck and down his back.

“Let’s just shaft the new guy,” Lucius suggests. “He probably won’t even notice.”

“No,” Dabus says.

“But he’s stupid,” Lucius reminds him. “It’s his lot in life to get less.”

“That’s it, we’ll draw lots,” Jespo says. “Numbered from one to seven, we choose in that order.”

“I agree,” Prisantha says.

“Fair is fair,” Heydricus says. “Everybody fights, everybody gets a share.”

----

“So do I go first, or last?” Hastur wants to know—his straw is the longest.

“You go first,” Dabus says. “Gwendolyn will be last.”

Gwendolyn’s lips have yet to un-purse themselves.

In order, the Liberators select their books—Hastur quickly snatches up Gainful Exercises for The Humble Everyman, while Dabus claims the Exalted Treatise Concerning the Revealed Wisdom of the Ancients. Heydricus finds the selection on Personal Magnetism and Boundless Allure to his taste, while Jespo Crim cackles despite himself as he selects the book that reveals The Seven Eternal Secrets of Perfect Memory and Immediate Comprehension. Prisantha selects the tome whose exercises Promote Unflagging Health and Fortitude.

“Fine,” Gwendolyn finally manages, her lips still so tight as to render the word nearly silibant. “I’ll take the Demonomicon of Iggwilv.”

There is a long moment of silence, broken by Jespo’s barking laugh.

“Are you mad?” he scoffs. “That is not an item of treasure, it is a catalogue of demonic true-names. A true demonomicon.”

“Well, it is my pick.”

“Out of the question,” Jespo says.

“And who are you to tell me ‘no’, Crim? Were you up-jumped when I wasn’t looking?”

The party regards the Demonomicon, each of them lost in thought.

“Well, if Id’a known we could pick it,” Hastur says. “Maybe I would have . . .”

“You’re too late,” Gwendolyn says. “It’s mine.”

“Nobody’s picking that book!” Heydricus says.

“I think Heydricus is right,” Prisantha says. “It’s not a thing for one of us to own. Perhaps the Prison of Xagyg would suit you, Gwen.”

“That book should be destroyed,” Dabus says. “I don’t appreciate its presence.”

“Nor do I,” Heydricus agrees. “Flame strike it.”

Before anyone else can object, Dabus calls upon Tritherion, and after a moment, the Demonomicon of Iggwilv is struck with a pillar of holy flame.

Gwen’s jaw falls open and she stares at Dabus. “Of all the self-important, arrogant things to do! How dare you!”

Dabus shrugs. “I have a standing divine mandate regarding objects of known evil origin.”

“Not that it matters overmuch,” Jespo says. “The Demonomicon is unscathed.” Jespo places a hand on the book. “It’s not even warm.”

“I have other spells,” Dabus says.

But despite the best efforts of the willing, acid and arcane fire prove equally useless against the thing. Holy light fails to sear it, and it cannot be destructioned.

“Somebody wish it destroyed,” Heydricus says.

“I’m not wishing against an artifact!” Gwendolyn says. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we copy the names, then give the book itself to the Pholtans?”

“What?” Heydricus says.

Prisantha has been staring at the Deomonomicon while her companions debate its immunities and resistances. “I know,” she says in a soft voice. “We should sell it to a real demonologist. Someone who would understand it. That book could make us rich.”

“What?” Heydricus says.

“Well, more rich,” Jespo says, fingering the seam of his masterwork vest. Fräs hisses warily and nips Jespo’s hand.

Lucius regards Prisantha suspiciously. “Allright, that f-cking book’s got to go. I’m locking it up.”

“Wait,” Gwendolyn says. “It would be a shame to let its secrets rot away in some dank room. Perhaps we owe it to ourselves to make a better use of it.”

“I know,” Hastur mutters, staring flatly at the book. “Let’s pour some blood over it while reading names out loud. I think I know which ones.” He starts to open the book, but Dabus is quicker, and Hastur is suddenly held.

Lucius whirls on the group, his finger stabbing at each of the wizards in turn. “No more ideas. I’m tying up the dwarf, and the next one of you with a clever notion about that book gets the same.”

Heydricus swipes the book into a leather bag, and mounts the bag on the end of his spear. “Dabus, throw this f-cking thing in the treasure room, and post a double guard.”

-----

With the Demonomicon of Iggwilv securely locked away, Gwendolyn finally claims the Prison of Xagyg for her treasure pick. In a huff, she teleports off to Greyhawk City where she reports she will be “looking in to a few things.”

The party discusses the likelihood that the Demonomicon is itself an artifact-level magic item. Clearly, it has subtle mind-corrupting powers, and seems impervious to magic.

“There is a spell that can unbind such things,” Jespo notes. “Although I do not myself possess it.”

“Mordenkainen’s disjunction?” Prisantha nods. “It could work, but results are not assured, and the wizard casting the spell takes a tremendous risk; if the artifact reflects the spell, she could disjoin her own wizardly gifts!”

“A risk, true, but no greater risk than leaving the vile thing within our living space,” Heydricus says.

“I would be willing to disjoin it,” Jespo says. “But I would first require the spell.”

“You don’t have anything to prove, Jespo,” Prisantha says.

“Nonsense,” Jespo scoffs. “Fräs says that a virtuous man must prove his worth with each new day.”

“I will teach you the spell,” Prisantha says, unconvinced and more than a little worried.

Fräs purrs.

-----

Dabus does his part, protecting Jespo Crim as best he can. The first two attempts are failures—the book is strong, and resists the spell. But on the third day, the wards protecting the Demonomicon of Iggwilv are disjoined, and shortly thereafter the book is consumed in holy flame, its ashes scattered across the plains of Nevond Nevnend.

“Great job, Crim,” Heydricus says, clasping Jespo’s frail shoulder with one huge hand. “You know, you’ve really been kicking ass recently. Keep it up!”

If Jespo blushes, no one but Fräs can say. Exhausted, he returns to his newly remodeled suite on the keep’s top floor.

-----

The Liberators of Tenh (sans Gwendolyn) sit together in Prisantha’s study. The six liberators remaining in Nevond Nevnend have been busy studying their respective books, but take the time to gather in the evenings to share a meal and discuss the relative merits of their various studies. This evening, Jespo has begun a tirade impugning the Furyondian Wizard’s Academy and the “Traitorous Four.”

“. . . Piscean! Need I say more?” Jespo has recently taken to tucking one arm into his vest when he pontificates, a gesture he learned from Otiluke. “The Circle of Eight are clearly the superior coven. Furyondy’s Four considered themselves without peer in the wizardly world (and you know for a fact there are many at the Academy in Chendl who say no less about them, Prisantha), but when the final bell is rung, power wielded by an immoral hand is no worthy power at all.”

Fräs agrees.

“Like that unswerving paragon of virtue, Rary?” Prisantha asks sweetly.

“Well. That was a disagreement between gentlemen wizards, Prisantha. We are not privileged to know the truth of the matter, and frankly, it would be unseemly to inquire.”

Lucius laughs. “So if a Furyondian wizard murders another, it’s immoral, but if a Greyhawker turns on his companions, it’s a private dispute? Why not just call the spade a spade, and admit it—all wizards are just a hair shy of crazy.”

Jespo will not be outdone. “When one kidnaps a king for political gain, it becomes by definition a public crime. Two gentlemen attempting to kill one another is a duel.”

“What if one of the gentlemen doesn’t realize he’s in a duel at the time?” Lucius asks.

 

[Urbanmech]

Yea for updates! The pixels on the screen glow and give me joy.

I really want to know what the party said to Lucius after that last comment.

 

[(contact)]

There was an interruption.

 

[coyote6]

The conversation around the demonomicon amuses me vastly.

Now . . . how long until the interruption?

 

[Circle of Crows]

There was an interruption.

Bwaaaaahaahaahaahaahaahaaaaaa....

 

[the Jester]

Wow, (contact), I'm finally caught up!

I read your original TOEE2 story back in the day, and I've read chunks of LoT before... but I never managed to have enough time to get caught up on it.

I just spent a considerable amount of the last two days reading from page 13 or thereabouts to the end... your writing just keeps getting better, and the story is fantastic over-the-top epic madness! I love it- keep up the hard work, and keep up the updatin'!

 

[Old One]

Yo!

Haven't dropped by for a bit...all caught up now...good stuff!

Some of their diatribes...er, conversations just kill me. Looking forward to more!

~ Old One

 

[(contact)]

Coldeven 7, CY 594
91—It is always darkest just after the last light is extinguished.


The distinctive spice and ink smell of Greyhawk’s sage’s quarter appears just before Gwendolyn does. Her teleportation causes the candles to flutter momentarily, casting dancing shadows across the faces of her companions. Gwendolyn’s eyes are wide and her cheeks flushed.

“The Demonomicon!” she says. “We’ve won! We can stop this madness!”

Prisantha looks at Heydricus, who looks at Dabus. Dabus shrugs.

“It is a book of true names!” Gwen says, laughing.

“Yes,” Dabus says.

“Grazz’t gave it to Iggwilv before the birth of Iuz—she transcribed the true name of her son into the book! The Demonomicon has Iuz’ true name!”

There is a long moment of silence.

“Had,” Jespo says.

-----

Gwendolyn isn’t speaking to the Liberators. Prisantha, Heydricus, Jespo, Lucius and Dabus crowd around Pris’ crystal ball as she spies upon the Great Adventurers’ Crusade.

“My god,” Prisantha says.

“Is it bad?” Jespo asks.

“They cannot . . . oh dear. Their spells are not functioning.”

“Magic items?” Heydricus asks.

“Hard to say, but no one is glowing.”

“Wow. That’s bad,” Heydricus says.

“And their teleportatives aren’t working at all. There are many demons.”

Dabus leaves the room.

“Keep your eye out for survivors,” Lucius says. “The Iuzians will want to capture as many as they can, for torture. We can free them later, if they can survive long enough.” He follows Dabus, and is joined by Jespo Crim.

Heydricus places his hand on Prisantha’s. “Keep watching,” he says. “Try to find Belvor.”

-----

“In Tritherion’s eyes, the whole world does not outweigh a single soul.”

Dabus has finally cornered Gwendolyn in the narrow passageway that runs beneath Nevond Nevnend’s main stairwell. It is very late; Gwendolyn is in her nightgown and holds a candle in one hand. Dabus, as has been his habit since his death, does not sleep, and wears his ceremonial garb at all times.

“You self-righteous as-holes make me sick,” Gwendolyn says.

“My righteousness does not come from my self.”

“We could have won. We could have killed him, we could have bound him.”

“Such a thing could not be done without imperiling the soul that did it.”

“That’s my choice to make, you hypocritical prayer-grubbing lackey.”

“You were under the influence of the book, and I think you still are.”

“I’m going to burn your face with this candle if you don’t clear the passage, Dabus.”

“I am resistant to fire.”

Gwendolyn narrows her eyes.

“I know you think we were wrong, but I would not have you sacrifice yourself—the souls of the just will never be the playthings of the Old One. This world was not always, nor will it always be—it is an ephemeral shade, reflecting poorly the majesty of the Heavens.”

“Poetry? You’re pathetic.” She pushes past him.

“I am sincere,” he says as she goes.

-----

“I feel . . . epic.”

Heydricus is flexing his muscles and regarding himself in a full length mirror. Prisantha and Jespo sit together nearby, poring over a list of names.

“Avelarch,” Jespo says. “A fighter, I believe—an old adventuring companion of Murlynd. Nystul spoke highly of him.”

“Yes, Murlynd was present,” Pris says, “But I did not see him perish—of course, he was with Drawmij’s band, so he’s probably dead.”

“Otto?”

“Dead.”

“Do you feel epic, Pris?” Heydricus asks.

“No, Heydricus,” she says. “I think it’s only you.”

“I feel epic, sometimes,” Jespo says. “But I know in my heart that I am not.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, Crim. You’ve been kicking ass lately,” Heydricus says.

“Serten, Sigby, The Unnamed and Yrag are all confirmed killed,” Pris says. “Mordenkainen, Bigby, Otiluke and Tenser were not present.”

“They’re smart. They fled the plane,” Heydricus laughs.

“What about D—? Oh, you know who,” Jespo says.

“Daern?”

“Yes.”

“Dead.”

“How about that Hennet fellow?”

“Unknown.”

“Jozan?”

“Captured.”

“Kermit?”

“Kerwyn. Dead.”

“The other Boon Companions?”

Prisantha shakes her head, and places a hand on Jespo’s hand.

Heydricus puts his arm across Jespo’s thin shoulders. “Today is the 8th of Coldeven. Two years ago today, we lost our first companion to the Temple, a happy little hobbit named Whistlin’ Pippin.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned him,” Jespo says.

“Today is the day that I remember the fallen, Jespo. The longer you live, the more of those you’re going to have.”

-----

Cochraine and Reine are at each other’s throats again. Heydricus has asked for wills for all the Liberators, and the two top Tehna bureaucrats cannot agree on the proper language for the resurrection clause.

Lucius has been seen in the vicinity of Prisantha of late, whispering into her ear, and receiving replies in return. When they defeat Iuz, he reckons, the world is going to be short a few dozen powerful adventurers, and the political climate should reflect that. Prisantha agrees, and the two of them are hashing out the how.

Dabus prepares a gate to Mount Olympus, and the Liberators teleport across the length and breadth of the Flannaes to retrieve their loved ones and family.

Heydricus sends his gaggle of orphans through the gate first, led by the remnants of his most fanatical followers. Prisantha convinces her grandparents that they are going on a “special magic vacation,” entrusted into the care of loyal Anon.

Jespo arrives with his mother in tow, an intractable hag who lets no opportunity to berate her son, his companions, or their surroundings pass. After the first fingernails-on-chalkboard pass at polite conversation, Prisantha silent still charms the woman and has done with it, suggesting her through the gate (but not before forcing her to agree that Jespo is a good son). Fräs sends an alley-cat along with Jespo’s mother, a battered-looking Tom she claims to have befriended while homeless in Chendl.

Gwendolyn brusquely introduces the Liberators of Tenh to a trio of younger sisters (none of which possess her beauty, but all apparently in full possession of her sense of entitlement). The three caw and complain, but are eventually lured through the gate by the handsome Anon.

Hastur sends no one through. Lucius is not present.

-----

Jespo stands next to Heydricus as the gate closes. “Do you think it is strange, Heydricus? We are probably now the most powerful adventurers in the Flannaes . . .”

“Except for the members of the Eight that fled.”

“Except for them, yes. But for all of our power, we could not have filled a poor man’s scupper with our loved ones.”

Heydricus thinks and shrugs. “Lots of people love us, Jespo, we save folks.”

“Yes, but they don’t know us, do they?”

“Well, that’s the life for you,” Heydricus shrugs. “When you think about what we do for a living—- who would want us around all the time?”

 

[Morte]

“Grazz’t gave it to Iggwilv before the birth of Iuz—she transcribed the true name of her son into the book! The Demonomicon has Iuz’ true name!”

Ooh.

Good. More.