Sepulchrave II
Legend
Mind-maps. Diagrams w/ lots of arrows. I recommend them.
In broad tems, yes, they get the info - eventually. I don't detail actual dialogue until I write it up, but I know what transpires and how.
Mind-maps again. Scrawled notes on bits of paper. I'm pretty disorganized in my files.
***
Intermission
It was Night-time. Clouds shot across the face of the Moon, moving at unnatural speed, and the sky above Morne was lit with an eerie glow from the fires burning within it.
Mesikämmi and Hullu flew southwest for only three or four minutes, covering as many miles, before the Shamaness commanded them to descend. No word was spoken between them in that time. As they resumed their solid states, the wind had begun to blow strongly. The warrior turned to the witch.
"My men…" he began.
"They will be fine, if they follow your advice and go to ground. We are not safe in the sky now, and we need to do the same. The storm will be very large, and even our own camp will be somewhat affected – as well those of our enemies."
"And Morne?" He asked.
"The eye wall is directly above Morne, the eye itself a little north of the city."
"Mesikämmi, what are you dong here?"
She smiled. "We are destined for great things, you and I. Bright spirits have told me as much."
"And the creature that you banished – the servant of the Wyrish God?"
The Shamaness shrugged. "I don’t pretend to understand the subtleties of it all."
Hullu sighed. His life was currently more complex than he truly cared for. He looked at her openly.
"My sword concerns me, Honey-Paw. And I feel tossed around by forces which I do not comprehend."
Mesikämmi laughed loud. "That is the price of power, my boy."
**
Tornado force winds emanated from Nwm as he ascended, overpowering even the intense air currents which were forming above the city.
In the centre, where he flew, was a zone of absolute calm.
His sight stretched out through his torc, and instantly apprehended the storm system. It was immense, and extended well beyond the range of his perceptions. Its total diameter must exceed fifty miles. Totally beyond anything that he, or any other spellcaster that he could imagine, was capable of.
Through his inner vision, he knew that he approached the locus of power from which the winds emanated, although it was invisible to his mundane sight. Glancing down, Morne stretched beneath him: flames were spreading rapidly in the Temple Quarter as the numerous fires fed off of the growing gusts.
Suddenly the entity manifested above him, and Nwm gasped. He had never seen or heard of anything like it: like some vast, iridescent eel or lizard, with scales of crimson and aquamarine. It seemed ancient, almost atavistic, and possessed a primal beauty and presence that almost overwhelmed Nwm with awe.
Nwm cast Tongues upon himself, and yelled up to it.
"You have no business here. Call off the storm and return whence you came."
A Lightning Bolt struck the Druid, and he cursed.
"Desist, or I will hurl you from the sky." He yelled again.
The creature cavorted wildly, seeming to delight in the destruction it was causing, and flew straight towards Nwm, seemingly unperturbed by the two hundred mile-an-hour winds which surrounded him. Two great claws slashed at the Druid, and its maw – full of backward pointing teeth – bit him. Pain shot through his body.
Nwm Shapechanged into a colossal red dragon, which dwarfed the creature.
It promptly vanished.
Heh, thought the Druid. His blindsight revealed nothing, however. The creature had disappeared. And his torc indicated the same thing – it was simply no longer there. Curious.
And the wind still blew.
**
East of Morne, and approaching rapidly, four Wind-Walkers – Eadric, Iua, Tatterbrand and Tahl – were beginning to experience discomfort in the growing winds.
"We should descend," Tahl yelled. "It’s getting too dangerous."
Eadric swore. They were still three miles from the city, and from where they were, the flames and smoke were visible – blowing in gouts from within the walls. He nodded, and they drifted down towards the ground. The Paladin was unsure whether Nwm had invoked the winds and, if so, whether he knew about their own approach.
As they landed, and resumed their solid forms, all saw that they were bleeding: physical effects of the strong winds upon their nebulous bodies.* Eadric squinted towards Morne, dropping his visor to prevent dust and debris from entering. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
"Dragon," Iua screamed, pointing.
"I see it," he shouted back. Holy Oronthon protect us! It is enormous.
He had never even heard tell of one that size before, and it was a Red. It was flying straight towards them. He had absolutely no doubt that they would all die. He groaned. Two Dragons in Wyre in two weeks – more than in the past two centuries.**
Nwm assumed the shape of a Roc before he came within spell range, and landed nearby. The ground shook.
"KRAAK. KRA-KRAAK..." he began to screech. Still under the effects of the Tongues spell, the others miraculously understood him.
"The winds are beginning to abate in the immediate vicinity of Morne," he explained. "I have seen to that. But the storm is immense – effectively, what I have done is increase the size of the eye to a six mile diameter. Beyond that, the winds are intensifying. And I cannot make it rain as well within the central area – at least not until I have meditated and replenished my powers."
"I can," Iua shouted back at him. "Get me into the centre, and I can bring rain to douse the flames."
He nodded. "Then we should go as quickly as possible. Grab a claw, and I will fly us all in. Eadric, you should know something: Nehael and Zhuel are both missing – possibly destroyed. They are no longer within the range of my torc. I’m sorry."
And the Paladin’s world was turned upon its head.
**
Within thirty minutes Eadric, Nwm, Ortwin, Iua, Tahl, and Tatterbrand stood within a small market square in the Temple district. The wind had ceased around them, and rain fell in great sheets from the sky, slowly quenching the flames.
Steam and smoke rose into the air. Corpses littered the streets – some slain by Hullu’s guerillas, some burned, others flung and battered by the winds or struck by flying debris. Pieces of masonry, tiles and beams from roofs lay strewn around. People wept.
But this is not what I saw in my dream, Eadric thought. Is there more yet to come?
And then, Nehael!
Nearby, nervously, a squad of Templars were approaching.
The Paladin groaned. He turned to Tahl. "Can you contact Mostin?"
The Inquisitor nodded. "I can issue a Sending."
"Screw that," Iua interjected. "He has hardly been of use. Do you plan on begging him?"
"If necessary," Eadric snapped. He hoped that the Alienist’s mood had passed. The Paladin pointed at the approaching troops. "Nwm, can you…?"
The Druid sealed them off with a Wall of Thorns.
Tahl’s Sending consisted of two words:
Please Help.
**
Shomei was finding sleep difficult: around the Secure Shelter, beyond the zone of calm established by Nwm over Morne, the winds raged. She tossed uneasily in her bunk. Mostin sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, idly stroking his hedgehog, and musing about pseudonatural entities of an altogether different order of power.
The shutters and door rattled. Gusts of wind blew down the chimney and sent clouds of smoke and ash into the small cabin.
Pah! So much for ‘Secure,’ the Alienist grumbled to himself. This was ridiculous. Rustic was rapidly beginning to lose its charm.
Please Help, Tahl’s voice, in his mind.
He scowled, and grunted. What nonsense had they gotten themselves into now? Quickly he Scried the Inquisitor.
There they all were. Looking deflated, wet and bedraggled. Nwm pointed at the sensor, and Ortwin gave his best endearing smile, nodding optimistically.
Mostin sighed. They didn’t seem to be in any danger. He thrust his head through the portal.
"What do you want?" He grumbled.
"We have a situation," Nwm explained.
"You always have a ‘situation,’" Mostin chided.
"This is a bad one," The Druid said.
Mostin groaned, and made a beckoning gesture. "Come on," he said.
*
Ortwin stood with his back to the fire, and steam rose from his Cloak of Displacement. Within the small cabin, it rapidly became very humid: seven people, five of whom were very wet, crowded within. Tahl had left upon arriving through the mirror, walking the half mile through the storm to his tent – assuming any of it still remained – in order to use a scroll to quiet the weather in the vicinity.
Eadric glanced suspiciously at the Infernalist, who reclined in deep thought upon a nearby bunk. He was about to question her presence, but decided that it might be impolitic, given Mostin’s mood. There was a short but decidedly uncomfortable silence.
Mostin gestured. Clothes instantly dried, and vapour disappeared.
"Why aren’t you in your manse?" Nwm asked the Alienist.
"Because I had no Teleports prepared, because I didn’t want to leave the mirror unattended, and because I wanted some peace and quiet," Mostin snapped.
Nwm nodded. Evidently Mostin was still tetchy. Briefly, the Druid explained the situation.
"Can you Scry for them?" Eadric asked.
"I can try, I suppose," Mostin said wearily. Five minutes passed, but no clues to the whereabouts of either Zhuel or Nehael were forthcoming.
"So are they dead?" Eadric asked.
"Either that or, obviously, in a place which cannot be Scried," Mostin nodded.
"How can we know?"
"I’ll attempt a Discern Location, but it will have to wait until morning. If that yields no result, then we can assume the worst." He sighed. "You may as well just make yourselves comfortable until Tahl deals with the weather. I regret that I have nothing to offer anyone in the way of refreshments."
Shomei groaned. "Oh stop being so damned stiff, Mostin." She began a brief incantation, and Eadric suddenly became very nervous.
The Infernalist waved, and a Djinn appeared. Eadric relaxed.
"Make some tasty snacks, and some firewine, and some utensils," she instructed. The genie broke a splinter of wood from one of the logs near the fire, cast a Major Creation, and made all manner of rude wooden goblets, plates and cups, together with a huge pitcher. It clapped its hands, and suddenly the small desk sagged under the weight of exotic viands.
Iua scowled. It seemed rather demeaning to use the members of her own race as simple butlers.
Ortwin grinned. "Great," he said. Ed might be depressed, but the Bard wasn’t about to let it interfere with his appetite.
*
Outside of the cabin, the winds began to abate – evidently Tahl had retrieved the scroll, and forced the weather to subside. There were now two lacunae of still air within the storm’s two thousand square mile extent: one around Morne, the other in their immediate area.
By the time that those in the Secure Shelter had finished eating – albeit in a subdued atmosphere – the Inquisitor had safely returned.
"The camp was in chaos," he informed Eadric. "Many of the canvas tents have been ripped away. Anything that wasn’t tied down, or sufficiently heavy, is somewhere other than it was two hours ago. Numbers of horses have escaped. It may take some time to gather things together."
The Paladin nodded.
"The one reassuring thing Ahma," Tahl continued, "is that the forces of Kaurban and Sihu are doubtlessly caught within the storm as well. We might be able to use this to our advantage. How much longer is the main system likely to persist?"
""Fifteen hours," Nwm answered.
Eadric mused briefly. "Could we open a corridor of still air between here and the city?"
Nwm nodded. "I had just considered that."
"Return to the camp," the Paladin instructed Tahl blackly. "Send messages to Olann, Sercion, Streek and Eisarn: as soon as the storm lets up, they are to head straight for Morne at their best speed – they are not to tarry. Instruct Brey to be ready to move on my order."
The Inquisitor nodded, and departed.
"How long until dawn, Nwm?"
"Only two hours," the Druid sighed. "But I am exhausted. I need to rest before tomorrow."
There were several nods of agreement
Ortwin immediately transferred himself to the most comfortable bunk. "Here is as good a place as any," he smiled.
*
It was close to noon of the nest day before those present had made themselves ready. Eadric donned his armour, prayed briefly, and exited the cabin to inspect the damage of the previous night.
Branches lay strewn around, snapped from trees during the windstorm as the Paladin walked down the gentle slope towards the camp. It was deceptively still, and he knew that only two miles away, beyond the zone of calm, the winds still pummeled the lands in the vicinity. He wondered about the effects on the harvest: this was some of Wyre’s richest farmland, and Morne’s bread-basket.
He spoke briefly with Brey, Tahl, Ryth and Soraine, who were overseeing the operation to reorder the camp and to retrieve and repair as much as possible from the previous night, and tried to occupy himself.
Eadric fretted, found himself unable to concentrate, and walked back to the small cabin. He waited impatiently for Mostin to finish scanning his books, but said nothing until the Alienist had cast his divination. The others stood by tensely.
Mostin sighed. "The news is a mixture of good and bad," he said. "Mostly bad. Nehael is alive. She might be better off dead, however. She is currently on the forty-seventh layer of the Abyss, beneath the palace of Graz’zt in Azzagrat."
Eadric’s jaw dropped. How?
Mostin considered for a moment. "I could attempt a Planar Binding to bring her here."
"Do it, Mostin. Anything."
But fifteen minutes later, when the Binding had failed, Eadric’s mood was black. Perhaps she was warded. Perhaps she was already magically bound. Perhaps she was in an area of Antimagic. Mostin was unsure.
The Paladin swallowed. "Thank-you Mostin. I appreciate it. And my sincere apologies, if you think that I have disrespected you for your friendship and the help you have rendered."
Mostin gave an embarrassed grumble.
"Was she abducted?" Nwm asked.
The Alienist shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps a Bebilith snatched her way. Perhaps she was Banished or Dismissed."
"When that happened before, you quickly retrieved her," Ortwin pointed out.
"Circumstances seldom repeat themselves exactly," Shomei said. She turned to Eadric. "I’m sorry. Really. She is a remarkable individual." The Infernalist groaned, inspecting her watch. "I should go. Wish me luck, Mostin."
She vanished.
"What’s up with her?" Ortwin asked.
Mostin laughed. "If you really want to know, she is about to engage in a battle of wills with a Devil who has a reputation for cunning, twistedness and subtlety which makes even his own kind quail."
Eadric looked uneasy.
Mostin nodded. "Your tempter is here, Eadric. Shomei has her own agenda to pursue with him, however."
Eadric swallowed. He would ask Tahl to Commune later. Several questions needed to be answered. And the whereabouts of Zhuel were still a concern.
**
Twelve seconds after Nehael had been thrust onto the Astral Plane, the Glabrezu Otarr had Plane Shifted to the Abyss.
Six seconds later, he Teleported to the Iron Halls of Graz’zt. He was immediately granted an audience: the Prince had instructed the Mariliths who guarded entry to his sanctum that all news regarding Wyre – and especially Eadric – be relayed to him as quickly as possible.
Otarr communicated the news telepathically to the Great Demon, who writhed ecstatically at the news.
He Scried the Succubus within moments, summoned Ainhorr and his jailer – an intemperate Nalfeshnee named Trakkao, opened a Gate in her immediate vicinity and, accompanied by his majordomo and chief administrator of pain, stepped through.
Unfortunately for Nehael, Teleportation was not an option upon the Astral Plane.
Within one minute of being banished by Mesikämmi’s Word of Chaos, Nehael was captured, bound in the same Dimensional Shackles that had once held the Marilith Uzmi, and led in mockery back to the forty-seventh level of the Abyss.
Graz’zt had her flung into a hole until he could decide what to do with her. He would find something particularly inventive and unpleasant, preferably lasting several aeons.
Prince Graz’zt seldom left the confines of his own palace, much less made extraplanar sorties. This had been a special case, however.
*Wind-Walkers in my campaign house rules suffer 5 points of damage per round with no saving throw for every increment in wind speed above strong: i.e. severe = 5/round; windstorm = 10/round; hurricane = 15/round and tornado = 20/round. In addition, those subjected to tornado force winds must make a Fortitude save (DC20) every round or be ripped apart by the winds and die. By the time that the party landed, the winds had already reached storm force.
**Although northern Dramore was terrorized by a Blue Dragon some years previously, which roosted in the High Thrumohars. Eadric, Nwm and Ortwin hunted it down and killed it.
