The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #417] Decisions, decisions

The holy warrior smiled at the deva and gave a slight bow. "My celestial kin, it has been a lifetime since I have seen one of my own kind," he said then his words faltered and he stared into her opalescent eyes.

"There is no number with which to count the host among the higher planes, my cousin," the deva said. "Seek us there and you may walk among family... friends... lovers..."

Shamalin studied carefully the Celestial's face and thought she caught a glimpse of something in her eye when the deva looked upon Ayremac. Desire, perhaps? Did higher beings such as this truly pine for the affection of mortals, she wondered. But then, Ayremac's very nature as both celestial and mortal gave ample evidence that they did. And this Ally Shamalin had summoned looked very much like Ayremac; they could truly be kin. Her eyes were pearlescent where Ayremac's glittered like cut emeralds and her skin was white as alabaster while Ayremac's was worn red from exposure to the cold and sun, but in all other ways they seemed a matched pair. Truly he resembled this winged Outsider more than he did any of them.

"I have spent hours meditating on my ancestral blood and have become attuned to that part of being," the Officer of Umba answered, clearly awed by this paragon of virtue. She smiled at him warmly.

"And in so doing you have shed the bonds of your earthbound kin," she said. "But there is still much of the mortal in you - something raw that chaffs against your higher nature." Ayremac seemed to deflate at her pronouncement and he looked briefly down at his feet. Shamalin stole the moment.

"You speak of non-negotiable payments. Can we ask the price beforehand?" she asked the deva. "How can we make an informed decision without knowing whether the price would be to dear for us to pay?"

"You are wise, Mercybringer. But you need not fear. Only fiends strike bargains meant to catch mortals unawares," she answered. "The price for me to act directly to retrieve your wizard is a quest upon your group that you find and bring to justice the person or persons responsible for the bloody murders of numerous Sanctifiers of Calaam. The price for the knowledge of how you might do it yourself is the Rod of Withering you carry, cleric."

Shamalin saw the light of excitement return to Ayremac's face and she turned away to look over at Ixin, Morier and Karak who stood some distance away regarding the proceedings with reverent awe. "May I take a moment to discuss the decision with my companions?" the cleric asked.

"Of course," the deva told her gesturing for her to do as she would. "Act not with haste but with wisdom." Shamalin gave a little bow of her head and moved toward her companions. Once she was well away, Ayremac regained the deva's attention.

"Might I ask, if I could be so bold, what would you prefer?" the holy warrior said and the Celestial fixed him with a skeptical eye.

"Do you ask me to break your patron's injunction?" she asked playfully and Ayremac shook is head.

"No. No," he protested. "I'm just trying to act with the greatest good in mind. And this choice you have placed before us is a difficult one."

"It is the choices we make that define us, Officer of Umba," the deva said. "That is the nature of free will. That is why I give you choices to make. I am forbidden from setting your path for you, but even if Umba did not make that decree I would choose not to do so. That would deprive you of the chance to make of yourself the most that you can. Your choices have taken you to this place without my guidance; look in your own heart to find the next step on your journey." Ayremac smiled at her, nodding.

"I, for one, have a distaste for traveling with that Rod in our company. But I also cannot stand to see the blood of a holy warrior spilled without proper Justice being administered," he considered, righteous fire burning in his eyes. Then his face split into a wide smile. "Might we offer to do both? For your aid in this quest, bring Huzair back to us, we will find those responsible for the deaths of the Sanctifiers and if you will further share with us what you know of our Quest or our enemies, we will give you the Rod of Withering?" The deva chuckled at Ayremac's enthusiasm.

"You see, there, cousin," she mused. "There is that raw bit of mortality of which I spoke, scheming against your higher ideals."



"Is this really a matter we need to debate?" Morier snorted after Shamalin explained the choice the deva presented. "If we're going to have to fight our way through something, it might as well be directly related to our current mission at hand rather than some side quest that has no clear connection to Ayphx." Karak harrumphed.

"Well, I must say I am always up for a quest to save holy warriors, bein' that my brother was one an' all," the dwarf observed, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "An' I do admit that the White One has a point; I do worry that all these side quests may pull us away from the main thread of our purpose. On th' other hand, savin' holy warriors be important work and may be intertwined with the mission at hand. Plus it sounds like a quicker way to get Huzair back."

"I think that the second option is preferable," Ixin admitted. "Though my reasoning is different. We need to rid ourselves the Rod of Withering anyway. To my way of thinking, this presents a good means to that end."

"I can honestly say I am fine with either option," Karak said. "But if forced to a vote, I pick save the holy warriors."

"As do I," Ayremac said as he stepped up to the group. "We have a choice before us: get Huzair now, and quest against an injustice to my brothers in faith... or we can get information on how to quest for Huzair ourselves and ignore the murdered Sanctifiers. The way I see it, we quest either way. With one option we have Huzair to fight with us, with the other, we don't. This celestial being isn't telling us we must take this quest and forfeit all other struggles we are facing, so I vote to get Huzair back now, and use his magical strength to continue our own quest while working to bring this murderer to justice as well."

"That makes some sense," Ixin said, looking at Shamalin and Morier. The latter shook his head in disagreement.

"Consider, if you will, the costs associated with each option," the albino countered. "How frequently do we employ the Rod of Withering... and how would not having it change our general approach to battle and the way that we deal with enemies, if at all?"

"Agreed," Shamalin said with a tone of resolution in her voice. "And since I summoned the Planar Ally, the decision, ultimately, is mine."



"To the south on the shores of a lake not unlike this one lie the Moonsteps," the deva told Shamalin. "The steps lead down into the earth to a cave containing a pool of water. In the pool is an island, and the island is a portal to the Astral Plane. That is where you will find your missing wizard." Shamalin nodded her understanding.

"But how will we find him from there?" she asked and the deva smiled.

"Do not travel to the Astral yourself, Mercybringer That would gain you nothing at the present time," the Celestial said. "Cast a Sending[i/i] to the mage beforehand telling him of your plan to rescue him. Once at the portal you can cast Portal Beacon and he will sense its pull. He can activate the portal from the other side and return to the Prime of his own accord. But be warned, the portal consumes an offering of magic to power the journey between planes."

"Thank you," Shamalin said, with a reverential nod. She held up the Rod of Withering to the deva and before the cleric had a chance to react the Celestial's flaming sword came up and cleaved the device in twain.

"Our bargain is fulfilled," the deva said. "The Moonsteps are visible only under the light of a full moon so do not tarry long for tomorrow is the last night that one of Shaharizod's Mirrors will be full for several weeks."

And then she was gone, leaving Shamalin holding up the smoking handle of the sundered Rod of Withering.

 

[Burningspear]

Jon, i am having trouble getting onto my google mail....so i am not sure if and when i can react... it started yesterday night a bit, now again, i hope it will solve soon....

 

[Jon Potter]

Jon, i am having trouble getting onto my google mail....so i am not sure if and when i can react... it started yesterday night a bit, now again, i hope it will solve soon....

I hope that it starts working soon, but no worries.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #418] Getting There is Half the Fun

Ayremac stared down at the smoking skeletal fist lying on the turf at Shamalin's feet and sighed. Emotions tugged the holy warrior in conflicting directions; pleasure at seeing the Rod destroyed at last and regret at the deva's departure.

He had met a celestial being ages past; he had been very young, but remembered a celestial that had appeared to his mother. He could not remember what it was that they had spoken on if he had ever known, or why the visit, but one could not easily forget glimpsing a being of such perfection, even if it was at a very young age.

"That's that, I guess," Shamalin said, looking absently at the handle in her fist before tossing it to the frozen ground. She turned an eye on Ayremac and smirked. "Looks like you got your wish with the Rod after all," she said and turned toward the others.

He just blinked at her back, confused. Ayremac was so profoundly moved by his meeting today, it was hard to concentrate on the task at hand. How stupid he felt, suggesting that this being get involved in his mortal affairs, an obvious afront to Umba and all that Ayremac believed in. This being had seen it straight away, no hesitation... she had even chuckled at Ayremac's blunder.

He had thought he had achieved an incredibly attuned state with his Celestial heritage, but now... after meeting the deva it seemed to lack depth. He had focused and prayed and meditated on the physical aspects, following the pull to achieve a greater peace and better understanding of his own natural abilities to disregard poison and other injuries. Even his wings, which had been a badge of great honor for him yesterday seemed now to be shams, held up as something for mere mortals to adore, where his true kin would see them as little more then flesh and bone and feather.

Ayremac had more to realize, more to aspire to. It would take great amounts of prayer, and research into his heritage but he believed Umba wished this of him... and he would heed the call.

Kneeling he began to gather the pieces of his portable altar, readying it for travel.



Karak rubbed his moustache after listening again to Shamalin's recounting of the deva's words. "Hrmph... It sounds like Huzair will be need'n to cough up a magic item o' his." Morier snorted.

"That ought to make him real happy," the albino mused.

"I hope it nae be the sword," the dwarf added, dourly. "We'n all go through a mite bit o' trouble to get those keys, jus' ta have him lose the thing on us, now have we?"

"Hopefully Huzair carries enough magic stuff that his sword wouldn't get picked," Shamalin replied and Ixin nodded.

"Of us all, he's got the best chance at that game," she jested. "And besides, I don't see how we have much choice."

"Maybe we can send a message to 'im like the angel says, but so what?" the dwarf harrumphed, shrugging his shoulders. "Is he goin' to leave the key behind? I think nae."

"Gods! I hope not," Morier sputtered. "That would be..."

"Folly?" Shamalin finished and the albino nodded.

"What if Huzair has magick that can help him hide it, then the message be worth sendin'," Karak went on still rubbing his beard. "Now do you think the portal will nae let him enter this realm without a magick offerin' or that Celestial guardians will pour forth if he enters without the magick sacrifice? If'n that be the case well then me and Shelia we be ready." He rapped his knuckles against the flat of the axe blade which brimmed with frost. Of course, the White Elf, why he can shock 'em all can't he?"

"Do we really want to fight a bunch of angels, Karak?" Ixin grimaced. "That seems to go against our purposes doesn't it?"

"And anyway, what little I know about portals makes me think that the magic item powers the portal, not that it's a sacrifice for some guardian," Morier added. What he didn't say was that he knew precious little about portals, truth be told. Karak shrugged again.

"I say send Huzair a message to let him know what is expected of him, an' we be ready for whatever may come from the other side," the dwarf told them. "After that, I say we move on to follow Morier's pull."

Before anyone could say anything more, Anania trotted up, her face red from exertion and steam rising from her body. She was breathing heavily. "I saw no sign of Huzair or his assailant on my search," she told them. "But I did see something of note to the south. The earth was disturbed by some sort of large burrowing creature in several places a couple of miles in that direction. I think we may be on the extreme northern edge of a bulette's hunting ground."

"To the south, you say?" Ixin asked and Anania nodded.

"Well this just keeps getting better and better," Morier grimaced.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Huzair #1] Adrift in Forever

Huzair could do nothing pinned within the fetid body of the thing. He was surprised that he felt no pain and that he was able to breath. But he couldn't move at all until, with a violent contraction of gelid muscles the thing expelled him. That was a strange sensation as was the sense of falling sideways in a gentle tumble.

He knew immediately that he was no longer on the Prime Material Plane as he found himself spinning in a great expanse of clear, silvery sky that seemed to go on forever in every direction. Enormous tube-shaped clouds coiled slowly into the distance, some appearing like thunderheads and others looking like immobile tornadoes of gray wind. Erratic whirlpools of color flickered in midair like spinning coins. There was no gravity nor any solid ground to be seen, and he felt like he could see a very, very long way.

"Oh, crap," Huzair said, looking around, nervously. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it seemed unnaturally loud in his ears. "What do you think? Astral?"

"Looks like, boss," Sparky answered. "It matches what you told me about it." Huzair snorted uncomfortably.

"Trouble is, everything I know about it came from books I last read half a decade ago," the mage admitted. "Shemeska's Planewalker's Guide, The Planar Handbook, Sigil for the Cagestruck..." He stopped counting on his fingers and sighed, shoulders slumping. "I never really expected to have to use the stuff."

"Don't worry, boss," Sparky chirped. "You'll sort it out." The wizard reached up and patted the tiny bird on the head with his index finger.

"I am glad that you have so much confidence in me," he said with a grin. Then he summoned his concentration and began casting a Detect Magic spell. He'd barely begun the incantation when the spell went off, more quickly than he'd ever cast a spell in his life. Mana sizzled through his veins and the spell formed with scarcely any effort on his part. "Cool!" he mused, not that spontaneously Quickened magic did anything to return him to the Prime. It was damned fun, however. His grin widened, but only for a moment before he realized that, apart from his own Handy Haversack floating in weightless beside him, there was no magic nearby.

He tried the Ring of Communication next, but it was dead on his finger. The Ring of Blinking worked properly, but apart from temporarily transporting him again and again to a section of the Ethereal Plane that was just as empty as the Astral on which he'd started, it did nothing to change his situation.

"Crap!" he cursed again, deactivating the Ring and looking around once more at the silvery expanse in which he found himself stranded. His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember what he'd learned about the Astral Plane (which was precious little, it seemed). The Astral was the space between everything else - where you were if you were nowhere else on the Great Wheel. And it touched everyplace else. If you knew how to use it properly.

"Well, that is all I have for ideas," Huzair admitted to Sparky. He grabbed his Haversack, dressed, and wondered what to do next. The vast expanse of the Astral stretched out in all directions as far as he could see. No particular way seemed more promising than another, and the sheer enormity of the plane momentarily paralyzed the wizard with indecision.

As he drifted, staring at the strange, twisting clouds at the extreme limit of his vision, he thought of how he might escape this situation. The most appealing idea of course was a color pool, assuming of course, that he could find one that led back to Orune. Hitching a ride on a planar conduit was another possibility, though it was much riskier than using a portal since he wouldn't know where the conduit led until he'd used it. He might find himself dropped suddenly into Hell or the Negative Material Plane or somewhere else much less pleasant than the Astral Plane. And it might well be a one-way trip.

Huzair was no fool, and he had long suspected that reuniting Dridana's heart with her body would entail an excursion to the Astral Plane; it was here after all that dead deities were said to drift - their bodies petrified by the loss of their divine sparks. But he hadn't expected to be making the trip on his own. And he'd certainly assumed that he'd be able to follow Morier's head toward their goal. Oh, he'd have a few snide remarks ready for ol' Whitey when he returned. If he returned.

With that rather depressing thought, he opened a potion bottle and downed one of his last two Cure Light Wounds elixirs. In keeping with the way his luck had been running, the potion healed most - but not all - of the injuries he'd sustained while inside whatever the thing that had brought him here was.

"Figures," he grumbled and tossed the empty bottle over his shoulder. He took a preparatory breath and drew his familiar in close. "Come on, Sparky. Sitting around here is not getting us anywhere."

He offered a desperate prayer to Dridana - dead though she was - and with a thought, he shot off into the silvery vastness at a startling speed. As he went he swapped the Ring of Blinking for the Ring of Invisibility and disappeared from view.



He had no way of telling how long he'd been traveling when he spotted the ship. He felt no tiredness or hunger or thirst in this timeless place, and without any of his normal physical cues, the passage of time had little meaning. He knew that it was long enough for him to get over the thrill of flying at great speed and to become extremely bored with the unchanging void - but it might have been five hours or fifty since he'd begun his flight. He couldn't say; but he could say that he was thrilled to spy the swift-moving craft.

He saw the ship at a great distance. It looked like a common sailing ship, such as he'd seen countless times gliding about the harbor in Freeport. It lacked a rudder or mast, however, and sported a pair of batwing-shaped sails mounted on either side of its hull - although these latter seemed more decorative than anything as they didn't belly out with any wind. Six gaunt figures were stationed about the ship, watching keenly in all directions. They were uniformly tall and yellow-skinned, wearing fluted armor and having enormous swords at hand. There was a gaily-striped tent set up at the stern of the vessel - barely large enough for two men to stand side-by-side within, but rising some fifteen feet from the deck.

That was all he had time to discern before he realized that the ship was moving a lot faster than he was and at an oblique angle to his own trajectory. Invisibly, Huzair adjusted his flight to put him on an intercept course with the ship. As he went he drew out a scroll of False Life and activated the spell. Thus fortified, he followed it up with a Quickened Mage Armor a few seconds later and then he was upon them. He hurtled across the ship, over the fluttering tent and alighted on the strut supporting the starboard bat wing as the ship zoomed by. His Slippers of Spider Climbing provided a firm grip and crouched there observing the crew.

The creatures on deck were not human - in fact they were of no race he had ever seen before, which was really no surprise given his current location. Four of them were male, but the other two (including the one nearest to Huzair's perch) were clearly female. But apart from the presence of wan breasts there was little to differentiate the two genders as far as the mage could tell.

They were uniformly tall and wiry with leathery yellow skin stretched taut over their lithe frames. Their ears were pointed and serrated along the back edge, much like the bat wings that decorated their ship. Their hair was worn long, with both the males and females sporting thick, ropey braids adorned with polished beads and cut gemstones that glittered in the omnipresent silvery light. Both sexes wore jewelry of filigreed armbands and glittering rings of precious stones.

They wore armor of a sort Huzair had never seen before although he likened it most closely to his own warcaster's armor - being light and non-restricting while still providing solid protection to the wearer's vital bits. It was worked into baroque, fluted designs that appeared different for each of the figures. If there was any significance to the decorations, it was lost on the wizard. Three of the humanoids carried massive greatswords with intricate hilts sheathed across their backs. Two others had glaives close at hand and the last bore a two-bladed sword that glittered dangerously as he moved. He was engaged in look-out duty like the rest, but something about the man's bearing made Huzair think him the leader, so the wizard payed particular attention to him as he watched and listened.

They spoke little, and in a language that Huzair had never heard before. It was full of clucked tongues and glottal stops, reminding the mage a bit of the harsh sound of gobbledy although he heard no words that he recognized in the conversations. And he'd heard plenty of gobbledy in Scurvytown.

Disappointed that his eavesdropping had yielded no results, the mage had begun to contemplate moving quietly onto the deck and sneaking a glance into the colorful tent when the flap was thrown back from inside and a giant stepped out. He was tall and thin to the point of looking emaciated as if someone had taken a normal man and stretched him until he was nine feet tall. Not that there was much of the normal man about him. His skin was a brilliant azure and his fingers were long and spidery with at least one extra joint on each finger. He was dressed in opulent robes of purple and crimson and cloth-of-gold that pooled around him on the deck. An elaborate hat adorned with beadwork and hanging wisps of silk covered his blue head and a hundred tiny bangles worn on wrists and neck and ears tinkled incessantly as he glided forward to tower over the figure with the two-bladed sword.

The two exchanged words in that strange clucking tongue and the yellow-skinned man pointed off into the distance ahead. The giant nodded his head slowly, smiled genteelly, and turned back toward the tent, his over-long fingers laced together in front of him. Huzair watched the blue-skinned giant retrace his languid path to the tent, but before he could re-enter a second giant stepped out and conferred with the first. The newcomer was dressed similarly to the first and sported a glittering chain of elaborately wrought metal connecting a diamond stud in his left ear to its twin in his left nostril. The two spoke in low tones for a moment before retiring to the tent's interior.

It was clear to Huzair that the tent contained an extra-dimensional space of some sort or else the giants were packed in there tighter than kobolds in a warren. His curiosity was piqued, but he resolved himself to sit tight and wait for a while longer.



The ship sped onward through the unchanging Astral. The six crewfolk milled about, talking little and remaining generally vigilant at the rail. The female nearest Huzair stood close enough for him to smell the strange, spicy odor that hung about her, but, though she peered repeatedly through his invisible form, she never gave any indication that she'd noticed anything out of the ordinary.

At one point there was a brief period of apparent unease among the jaundiced humanoids. The look-out on the opposite rail shouted a warning and pointed to the impossibly large clouds roiling slowly in the distance off to port. The crewman at the bow - the one that Huzair had mentally labeled as the leader - trotted into the tent and a moment later the ship lurched away from the clouds and traveled on the new heading for a while before correcting course.

The wizard studied the swirling cloud bank, but could not see the cause of their alarm. Taking advantage of the diversion, he crept off the wing and onto the deck while their attention was elsewhere. There was an open stairwell amidship that led below decks - presumably to the hold or crew quarters, but its position would place him precariously close to several of the crew and therefore in danger of discovery.

He chose to play it safe and peek instead into the tent housing the giants. He stuck his head through the open flap and let out an involuntary gasp.

As he had suspected, it was larger inside than it was outside, but he hadn't imagined the sheer magnitude of the place. It looked like a tent within, but a tent that could have held five or six of the astral ships without trouble. The walls of the pavilion curved away from the entrance, adorned with lush tapestries in numerous styles. The floor was entirely obscured by scattered rugs and quilted cushions in a riot of colors and designs. A central pole as big around as Huzair was tall supported the fabric ceiling 100 feet overhead. The air was hazy with the stange-smelling smoke emanating from a waterpipe around which lazed three of the giants. Two were the clearly the ones that he had already seen on the ship, and the last looked much the same although he had a cluster of dark tattoos circling his left eye.

As Huzair watched he brought the platinum mouthpiece to his lips, inhaled deeply and then exhaled a cloud of vapor languorously into the air above his turbaned head. The giant then held out the mouthpiece toward Huzair and smiled affably.

"Have you come to join us, traveler?" he asked in heavily-accented common, fixing his left eye intently on the mage, who apparently wasn't as invisible as he thought himself.

 

[darkhall-nestor]

Wow I am all caught up

I quite enjoyed reading it






Darn I’m all caught up

 

[Jon Potter]

Wow I am all caught up

I quite enjoyed reading it

Welcome aboard and I'm thrilled that you've enjoyed what you've read so far. There's much more to come.

Darn I’m all caught up

Not to worry. I update at least once a week - sometimes more often than that.

You can look forward to:

1) Character deaths
2) Character disappearances
3) New characters
4) Old characters
5) And that special something that I promised a while back...

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #419] The Great White Worm

The news of a land shark in the vicinity was not welcome. But there was nothing for it save to press on. The deva had warned that the Moonsteps were only visible under the light from a full moon, and tonight was the last for a fortnight that one of Shaharizod's Mirrors would be full. So on they pressed.

Anania ranged ahead, blazing a trail toward their goal that wove amidst strange hard-edged polygons of lichen-covered rock. Karak stopped briefly to puzzle over the formations, but could find the mark of a chisel nowhere upon them and decided that they must have been the result of some magic. Everywhere, they would spot stripes of disturbed earth that wove between the rock formations, testament to the burrowing horror that called this tundra home.



As evening approached, the elf scout returned once more from her vanguard position this time to announce that they had arrived at a lake - the shores of which held a fallen ruin. Toppled columns of stone split and re-split by constant exposure to ice and wind lay half-hidden in the rushes. Here and there along the shore, the group could spy time-worn stones buried in the frozen earth, a silent reminder of paved roads that were no more. A narrow wedge of dark stone that curved up from the scrub was all that remained of a shattered dome that had once dominated the center of the ruin.

They explored the place hastily, finding a circular stone beneath the ruined dome marked with the symbol of the double moons. All the while, they were mindful of the danger presented by the bulette should it happen upon them unawares.

Of course, the burrowing predator turned out not to be a bulette.



Merruna, the Handmaiden rose early into the night sky, her silver radiance striking the stone disk in the center of the ruin and causing it to first shimmer and then vanish entirely. A shaft was revealed with a set of narrow stone steps cut into its sides that corkscrewed down toward a glow far below. It was as if another moon's light answered Merruna's from the depths of the shaft, but it was a light reflected on a water's surface, that flickered and winked from the dark below.

"I guess this is it then," Ayremac said, peering into the shaft.

"Ya think?" Morier jibed, earning a scowl from the holy warrior.

Shamalin ignored the two and went to work casting her Sending, reaching out across the planes to seek Huzair's mind. She found it, brushing against his thoughts over what was undoubtedly a very long distance. "Huzair," the cleric said over the link. "Follow the pull you feel to the portal, then step through." She cleared her mind in preparation for casting Portal Beacon when the wizard answered her.

"Shamalin, I think I have found a way to find Dridana's heart," Huzair's voice spoke straight into her skull. "Have everyone come through the portal to me. I've met some Mercane traders."

Then the link went dead and Anania shouted a warning. A moment later the others felt it as well, a subtle vibration in the frozen ground that intensified rapidly. A moment after that, the ground a dozen paces away exploded upward in a shower of ice and stone debris, propelled skyward by a huge, sinuous worm. The long, blue-white creature had huge mandibles and a strange nodule atop its head from which it generated a horrible trilling sound.

The sound, knifed through the group's heads like a blade of ice stabbed through the ear. All felt the urge to freeze in place, but only Ayremac and Morier succumbed to the compulsion, their muscles locking into rigor as the worm towered above them.

Anania had threaded an arrow into her bow and darted backward out of the worm's reach and now she brought up the weapon and sighted down. It was a single fluid motion; the bow cane up and the arrow went flying, stabbing deeply into the joint where the worm's left mandible met its head. It was a solid hit and well placed, but against the creature's enormous bulk it seemed like a splinter.

Karak spoke a word and his waraxe glittered eagerly with ice crystals. Roaring a battle cry in dwarfish he charged at the worm with murderous intent. Gripping the axe double handed, he hewed into the worm's pale flesh with abandon, hacking open a messy gash that was wider that Karak himself was tall. The worm shrieked as its lifeblood began pouring coldly to the frozen ground. It fixed its attention onto the dwarf below, abandoning its cacophonous trilling, intent on ridding itself of this metal-clad threat.

Shamalin clutched her holy symbol and spoke a brief prayer to Flor hoping that her magic would be enough to Cause Fear in her enemy. Her spell, however, slid off the great beast, too weak to effect so powerful a creature.

If the worm noticed the cleric's spellcasting it gave no indication and darted its head in toward Karak, seizing the dwarf's left arm in a grip like frozen steel. He heard a squeal of metal as the thing's enormous teeth sought to crush his vambrace, and felt his flesh savaged by the teeth that managed to puncture the metal protection. A horrible cold accompanied the attack, a glacial chill that seemed to sink into Karak's very core. He managed through the magic of his Ring of Freedom alone to pull his arm loose of the thing's grip before the worm could haul him skyward.

Ixin stepped forward while the worm was distracted and interposed herself between the creature and Ayremac. She sucked in a lung full of of cold air, feeling it stoke the fires of her draconis fundumentum. Leaning forward and smiling, she belched a cone of flame onto the worm. It seemed to sense the fire and managed to dodge away, but it still suffered badly from the antithetical element. It shrieked again as steam rose from its burned flesh into the polar air.

"Karak, grab Morier," the sorcerer screamed over the thing's wails of pain. "We need to get him and Ayremac to safety!"

An arrow from Anania's bow arched uselessly into the distance as the archer continued to circle the worm firing at it from various positions as she sought a weak spot where her missiles could do some real damage.

Karak, held his ground, undaunted by the creature's attack, and uninterested in Ixin's shouts to retreat. He was more cautious in his approach, however, putting somewhat less power behind his attack in favor of greater accuracy. His weapon struck again, opening another gash perpendicular to the first. The worm roared in protest, rearing up in time to get hit squarely in the head by a jet of water.

Shamalin held Waveblade - which was currently only the size of a large dirk - pointed at the worm, directing onto the beast the geyser the weapon produced. When the magical effect passed a moment later, the worm looked battered by the attack and diluted blood dripped from its head as it wheeled around to turn its maw toward the cleric.

A freezing vortex of ice and air vomited forth from the worm's mouth engulfing both Shamalin and the immobilized Morier in a cloud of frozen death. Shamalin tried to raise her shield to protect herself, but Morier was still immobilized by the worm's trilling and could do nothing but stand there as the breath weapon washed over them. When the cloud of ice and frost cleared, the eldritch warrior was covered with a thin patina of ice crystals. Shamalin had fallen onto her back and lay stiff and unmoving on the ground.

Ixin made to grab ahold of Ayremac, but the holy warrior brushed aside her hand. "I am fine," he told her as he shook the last vestiges of the stunning effect from his head. The drakeling needed no further encouragement and went to help Morier.

Anania sent a feathered shaft into the side of worm's head, burying it soundly into the soft flesh just below the worm's sunken eye. It writhed in agony and reeled back, but a second arrow found a place in its throat, sinking with a spurt of blood into the meat there.

Ayremac took only a moment to survey the situation - Karak's left arm was slick with his own blood, Morier was turning blue from the cold, and Shamalin was down - then he touched the symbol of Umba worked into his breastplate and invoked Sacred Healing. At once, Karak felt the warmth of magical healing wash over him, distracting him just enough that with his next swing, he overbalanced himself and nearly fell flat on his face.

If the worm had been doing anything other than retreating at that moment, Karak would have made a prime target. As it was, however, the creature had had enough abuse. What it had thought would be a tasty meal had turned out to be much more bother than it was worth. The worm withdrew with all haste down into its hole, vanishing almost as abruptly as it had appeared.

Ixin grabbed Morier about the waist and slung him over her left shoulder. "Come on!" she shouted moving toward the Moonsteps. "Let's get to the portal before that thing comes back."

 

[Jon Potter]

[Huzair #2] The Price of Doing Business

"Well, that is the second time this week that my invisibility has been discovered," Huzair answered quickly. He touched his Tattoo of Eagle's Splendor, deactivated his Ring and stepped forward with his hands at his sides. "I have got to learn how to keep that from happening." The giant on the left chuckled at this.

"Do not fret your abilities too much, little man," he said, indicating the giant with the tattooed eye. "Ashaaf bears the Mark of True Sight."

"I find it keeps transactions honest," Ashaaf grinned, proudly.

"I can see how it would," Huzair said, his voice dripping with charm. He bowed then with a flourish. "Peaceful Greetings. I am Huzair Blacksmoke."

"Welcome, Huzair Blacksmoke," the tattooed giant said. "I am Ashaaf and these are my partners, Kraal and Destaan." He indicated the other two giants each in turn and they nodded at Huzair.

"Please, come and join us for a bit," Destaan suggested, gesturing to an over-stuffed cushion that sat unoccupied near the waterpipe. Huzair smiled and ambled forward.

"What are you smoking, my friend?" the wizard asked as Kraal took another long pull on the mouthpiece, causing the belly of the pipe to gurgle and splash madly. The smell was unlike anything that Huzair had ever encountered before, a bit like hot steel with a hint of something citrus.

"It is a special blend, Huzair Blacksmoke," Destaan explained with a rubbery grin. "An alchemical mixture of possibility dust, angel down and crushed devil's eye."

"Ashaaf's own concoction," Kraal added. "Smoking it increases the efficacy of Abjuration and Divination spells for a time."

"A necessary precaution before conducting business, I'm afraid." Ashaaf said deferentially. "We've never had trouble at Akiv-tchai, but it never hurts to be prepared." Huzair nodded and produced a cigar that he'd been saving for a special occasion.

"Oh. After dinner try one of these," he said, offering the smoke to Ashaaf. "I love them, but I am afraid that I have but one." The tattooed giant's elongated fingers reached out and plucked the cigar from Huzair's fingers. He held it up and looked at it appraisingly with his left eye.

"What does it do?" Destaan asked and Ashaaf shook his head.

"Nothing, my friend," he said. "It is strictly recreational. Correct, Huzair Blacksmoke?" The wizard nodded.

"What brings you to our humble ship, Huzair Blacksmoke?" Kraal asked absently, gesturing around the pavilion with his over-long fingers. He passed the silvery mouthpiece to Huzair who eyed it nervously.

"I guess I should apologize for stowing away on your ship," he told them. "I am an unwilling visitor to the astral plane and I am was unsure how to proceed... and, quite frankly, your guards are kind of intimidating, so I figured just showing up to say, "Hi!" would be risky." The three giants chuckled copiously at the mage's comment and Huzair took the opportunity to pass the mouthpiece to Destaan.

"Another necessary precaution," Ashaaf laughed. "Few of a given plane's denizens would willingly attack a mercane trading mission, but it is still wise to be cautious. We always secure some local bodyguards well in advance of our arrival."

"I was actually afraid they were githyanki, but I think now I was obviously wrong," Huzair said and Destaan shook his head, handing the mouthpiece to Ashaaf.

"Oh, but they are githyanki," Destaan said. "As Ashaaf said we always employ local bodyguards."

"And who better than githyanki to serve as bodyguards on a trading mission to a githyanki outpost?" Kraal added. "It helps to put the locals at ease."

"And there is a distinct derth of sentient races on the astral," Destaan continued. "In fact if it weren't for the githyanki we likely wouldn't ply the astral at all. It's much too far to travel, otherwise."

"But githyanki arms and armor are in demand on Acheron... the Gray Wastes... Ysgard..." Ashaaf counted off on his spidery fingers. "Why the trade in driftmetal alone nearly makes up for our expense." Huzair shrugged.

"I never paid much attention to my master when learning about the planes," the mage admitted. "Now I think I may regret it."

"Indeed," Kraal said, exhaling smoke into the air. He held the mouthpiece out to Huzair. "Tell us how an admittedly crude fellow such as you finds himself aboard a mercane ship bound for a githyanki outpost?"

"Yes, Huzair Blacksoke," Destaan added excitedly. "What have you brought for trade?"

"Trade? What do you mean?" the mage responded, shifting uncomfortably. "As a fee for riding your ship, you mean?" Kraal shook his head, chuckling.

"No. What does it matter to us if one more rides or no?" he told Huzair. "It does nothing to slow the ship or change our course."

"And as I said before, there is a derth of sentient races on the Astral," Destaan added. "You are a welcome diversion." Huzair grinned. He'd been called a great many things over the years. Garan-Zak had used the term 'distraction' a time or two, but 'diversion' was new.

"Thank you much for your hospitality," he said.

"Your civil conversation is thanks enough, Huzair Blacksmoke," Kraal replied genteelly.

"The githyanki are not so accommodating, I'm afraid," Ashaaf put in. "They are a xenophobic people and will greet your arrival with skepticism unless you bring items to trade. And skepticism on their part will make our negotiations much more difficult and potentially less profitable." Ashaaf's thin lips twisted into a sour pucker at the prospect.

"That won't do," Kraal put in, shaking his head gravely. His expression did not change, but Huzair thought he sensed something sinister beneath the surface of his words. "That won't do at all."

"How should one deal with Githyanki?" the mage asked, suddenly uncertain of his presence among these three. He felt vulnerable and acutely aware of his precarious position so far from home.

"From a position of strength," Kraal offered.

"From behind a pair of maug bodyguards," Destaan quipped and the three giants laughed, spraying smoke in great roiling gouts. But, seeing the confusion on Huzair's face, Ashaaf promptly regained his composure and waved away the outburst dismissively.

"Nonsense, Destaan," Ashaaf said, wiping tears from his eyes with his thin fingertips. "The Githyanki are quite pleasant when treated with respect and honor. Their culture is very militaristic, but they are amenable to trade. In fact that very nature makes them dependent on it." "You do bring something to trade, do you not?" Destaan asked eagerly and Huzair grimaced slightly. He'd traded most everything with which he wished to part back in New Mellorell.

"Well, I am a wizard and have been working in the tattoo craft for all of three tattoos, but they are very effective so far," the mage said, showing off the two that remained and the empty spot where the third should have been. "I activated one before becoming visible... to help you be kind to me." He grinned up at them and Ashaaf returned the smile.

"A wise precaution before sitting down at the bargaining table," the giant said and the twinkle in his eye told Huzair that he admired the wizard's forethought. "The Githyanki do enjoy body adornment. Perhaps not as much as you, Huzair Blacksmoke, but I feel confident that your services will be in demand at Akiv-tchai."

"We will handle the negotiations for your services, of course," Kraal told him, matter-of-factly. "We have dealt with Gisir Okemocik many times before. It will go better for you if he and his mage-knights think you are in our employ."

"Well I do want to be of service to you," Huzair said quickly. "I can make profit for both of us hopefully and I will accept whatever you consider to be fair wage." Kraal nodded and Ashaaf spoke a few words of magic causing the air to his left to ripple and shimmer.

"Let us say a standard representational commitment," the giant said, waving his hand and causing the shimmer in the air to dilate, revealing an extra-dimensional space. He reached in and drew forth a palm-sized disk. This he carefully held out to Huzair, speaking the entire time in a flat voice that sounded well-rehearsed. "We will split any and all profit from your activities at Akiv-tchai 80/20. We will supply you with any necessary raw materials, with their cost coming out of your 80% share. Agreed?" Huzair blinked.

"As I said, whatever you consider a fair wage," the wizard nodded and reached for the disk that Ashaaf was holding delicately between two long fingers. As he took it, he discovered that its edge was sharpened as keenly as a razor's and he yelped as it drew blood from his fingertips. Ashaaf drew the disk back and squeezed it between his own fingers, breaking the skin and drawing his own blood.

"The bargain is made," the mercane smiled, revealing a mouth that was unsettlingly packed with teeth. The disk disappeared back inside the extra-dimensional space and Ashaaf produced a small tin of candies. He unscrewed the top and offered its contents to Huzair. "One of these will ease the pain in your fingers, Huzair Blacksmoke. They are infused with the power of divine healing."

Huzair took one skeptically. They looked like tiny chocolate drops such as he had regularly seen coming south from Haven on trade caravans. He selected one and popped it in his mouth where it promptly melted into a sugary syrup that ran down his throat, spreading warmth as it went. His fingers immediately healed.

"These are made by priests of Thellos," Ashaaf told the mage as the giant popped one in his own mouth and smiled. "They are disagreeable fellows, but they do make lovely candy." Destaan held up a cautioning finger to Huzair. "Best not to speak of Thellos or any other gods to the Githyanki, Huzair Blacksmoke," the giant suggested. earnestly. "As a race they recognize no deities or divine beings and are distrustful of folk who place their fates in a higher power's hands. It is a sign of weakness in their eyes."

"I will remain quiet when dealing with the Githyanki," Huzair said as he studied his fingertips. "I do not want to anger our hosts."

"Very wise of you, Huzair Blacksmoke," Ashaaf said. He made another gesture and the extra-dimensional shimmer closed, disappearing entirely. "If you aport yourself well at Akiv-tchai I can think of many other locales which might present lucrative markets for your talents. Perhaps you can travel with us for a time." Huzair smiled.

"I so appreciate the hospitality and conversation," the wizard said. "My comrades on Oerune are a bit rough around the edges or self-righteous... although there are some attractive females with us."

"We will have to take you to The Dreaming Gulf," Kraal said with a knowing grin. "They do not come cheaply, but the daughters of Xinivrae are the most beautiful and... talented... consorts money can buy."

"You will forget the females of your own world soon enough," Destaan agreed.

"Perhaps we can stop there after we unload on Sigil," Ashaaf said with a nod. "We three have been cooped up in here for too long. It would be nice to relax a bit." Huzair looked around at the comfortable opulence of the place and grinned.

"I really love your living quarters," he said as he found himself trying to imagine what they would consider relaxing given their working surroundings. He looked up at Kraal and touched his own face. "And your style of dress is quite dapper and sophisticated. I truly love the nose chain." The giant fingered the chain and smiled.

"Ahh..." Kraal said. "A gnomish purchase I made in Bytopia. The smallfolk there are quite the talented craftsmen. We are scheduled to return there in three cycles; perhaps we could arrange for you to get one."

"Perhaps," Huzair nodded. "What I would really love to have from you is advice about how to deal with my problem about getting back to my world." Kraal's face soured and Destaan looked hurt.

"You don't wish to travel with us, Huzair Blacksmoke?" He frowned. "I thought we were all getting on so well with one another."

"We are. But I am sure my friends miss me tremendously," the wizard soothed. "I would love to return richer than how I left and with more information." Ashaaf seemed to have cooled to Huzair, and the giant crossed his arms across his chest and stared down at the mage.

"It is possible that we can fulfill your needs in that regard, Huzair Blacksmoke. We mercane know a great deal about the planescape and its workings," he said, bringing the mouthpiece of the water pipe to his lips. The burner had gone out and Ashaaf scowled at the device irritably. "What do you offer as fair trade for our information?"

"Perhaps you would like to hear what is happening on my world?" Huzair opined as he got to his feet. He spoke a word and flame danced on his thumb; reaching up, he touched the flame to the waterpipe's bowl. Ashaaf, realizing the wizard's intent drew on the mouthpiece making the pipe's belly gurgle and splash. The mercane smiled and smoke curled languidly from the corners of his mouth.

"There may be a great deal of profit there if we can solve the problem I am working on," Huzair went on and sat once more upon the tufted cushion. "Do you know all about Oerune and the situation they face?"

"We do not concern ourselves with the Material Planes, Huzair Blacksmoke," Kraal told him. "The Astral is the closest we come to the Inner Planes."

"The Rot Queen plans to destroy it with her disease and fill it with her horrible minions. My companions and I wish to stop that," the wizard offered. "There will be a market for healing from that disease that has spread. There is most likely room for profit in a healing world."

"He has a point," Destaan confessed, but Ashaaf waved his hand with finality. "We do not concern ourselves with the Material Planes," the giant said, his tone commanding. "Would you have us poach in Sereen's territory, Destaan? Would you have him poach in ours?"

"No, Ashaaf, of course not," the other giant replied, properly chastised. He busied himself with the mouthpiece that Kraal offered him.

"Well, at any rate, I wish to return there to help sometime after our agreement is fulfilled," Huzair said, crestfallen. He had hoped to enlist their aid in his cause, but they seemed unwilling so he changed his tactics. "Any information I get about the astral plane would be helpful as I am looking for Dridana and I believe her body will be here."

"Dridana?" Kraal asked, looking nonplussed.

"A dead god," Ashaaf said simply and Kraal nodded sagely.

"Her body's location or even part of her body, perhaps, would be somewhat useful for us in the future, I believe," Huzair went on. "I wonder if you would be willing to help me find that body or return me to my friends."

"The location of a particular dead god is not known to us as we do not venture to the god islands," Ashaaf said. "But we could uncover this knowledge for a price."

"We could surely work out a good deal. I do have some items... although they are valuable and I hate to part with them, but I will do what I must," the mage said, patting his Handy Haversack. "As you said you have expertise in the planes and after our contract is fulfilled I am sure you could easily return me to my comrades."

"We could," Ashaaf agreed.

"After our contract is fulfilled," Huzair repeated. "And of course, I will not mention this at all to our hosts."

"Actually, the githyanki would be a valuable source of information about god isles," Destaan said.

"The buomman would be the ones to consult about that," Kraal corrected. "The githyanki will likely assume that you wish to jump their mining claim"

"The buomman?" Destaan scoffed. "Good luck getting anything out of them?" "Why?" Huzair asked. "Who are the buomman?"

"The buomman are a race that, like the githyanki, make their homes on several of these so-called god islands," Ashaaf explained. "Unlike the githyanki, however, they do not mine the islands for godstone. They truly believe that these are sleeping deities and not a resource to be exploited."

"They have also - as a race - taken a vow of silence," Destaan added. "Which makes dealing with them almost-"

Huzair didn't hear the rest, for at that moment, Shamalin's voice spoke directly into his head, drowning out all other sounds. "Huzair," the cleric said via Sending. "Follow the pull you feel to the portal, then step through."

"Ashaaf, my friends are contacting me," Huzair blurted, holding up his hands to stay the mercane; Destaan was still talking - presumably about the buomman. The wizard got excitedly to his feet. "They want me to come through the portal. If they come here to negotiate, will you send them back?"

Ashaaf's eyes flickered to the tent flap at the front of the pavilion and his lips pursed. After a pause, he nodded. "For a price," the giant said and Huzair nodded.

"Shamalin, I think I have found a way to find Dridana's heart," Huzair thought back across the mental link and he felt the spell fully discharge with his response. "Have everyone come through the portal to me. I've met some mercane traders." The connection between his own mind and Shamalin's went dead. Ashaaf appraised him with his tattooed eye.

"Well, are the terms agreeable to them?" the mercane asked, gesturing delicately with his long fingers. Huzair hesitated and then shrugged.

"I do not know," the mage admitted, his bald head cocked to the side as if listening. He'd expected to feel some kind of pull towards the portal - something akin to what he imagined Morier felt - but there was nothing. "I could go see them and perhaps one of you could allow all of us to come onto the astral plane and we could discuss business. I would not want to have this ship just pop out in front of them. I need to prepare them." Ashaaf was shaking his head before Huzair had finished.

"We cannot deviate from our course, Huzair Blacksmoke," Kraal told him. "The githyanki are expecting us, and while time holds little meaning on the astral, it is always best not to disappoint one's hosts."

"We have a reputation to maintain," Destaan added, nodding vigorously.

"And moreover abandoning our mission this close to a githyanki outpost might well be construed as a provocative action," Ashaaf observed. "We have traded successfully many times with the githyanki, but they are quick to take umbrage and even quicker to answer such a perceived slight with physical force."

"We would like to avoid that if we can," Kraal concluded. Huzair couldn't argue with that sentiment.

"Okay," the mage said, pondering the ramifications of his next statement. "How much money do you want to let me out of our contract?" Ashaaf raised an eyebrow and the other two giants looked at him for guidance.

"Nothing of value has yet changed hands, Huzair Blacksmoke," the lead mercane noted with a saccharine grin. "Why do you so readily seek to free yourself from your obligation?"

"I think that I know," Destaan chimed, looking accusingly at Huzair. "I think he wants to trade with the githyanki and keep all the profit for himself," agreed Kraal. "He seeks to violate our contract and wishes to avoid the penalty." There was a not-so-subtle undercurrent of menace in Kraal's voice that even Huzair couldn't help but sense. He took a step back and raised his hands.

"No. No. You are reading me all wrong," the wizard assured them. "I have no intention of trying to cheat you out of anything. I want to leave and seek my friends, not go to the githyanki." Ashaaf eyed him warily again and nodded after a moment's scrutiny.

"I believe you, Huzair Blacksmoke, but you will not buy yourself out of our contract," the mercane told him. "If you speak the truth and do not seek to cheat us then you have nothing to fear. If you are lying to us and seek to violate the terms of our contract then you will lose much, indeed!"

Huzair looked nervously at his fingertips and licked his lips. "Uh... What was that device called that we pinched our fingers on?" he asked and Ashaaf grinned.

"It is a binder's disk," he said. "A standard mercane contractual device, employed in any instance where services rather than goods are involved. It imparts a Geas effect upon both you and me. If we do not violate the agreed-upon terms then we will enjoy a profitable relationship. But if either of us tries to cheat the other then we will suffer the debilitating effects of the spell." The mage let out a relieved sigh.

"I will tell you farewell then," Huzair said with a polite bow. "I do not hang out with any githyanki, so I am very safe."

"I think you misunderstand, Huzair Blacksmoke," Kraal said, raising a cautioning finger. "Our contract is not so far-ranging that it applies beyond the borders of Akiv-tchai. You are free to deal with githyanki elsewhere."

"Though I would advise caution if you do," Destaan added. "They are easily provoked." Huzair was only half-listening to the mercane. His concentration was on trying to sense the pull of which Shamalin had spoke. Still he felt nothing and was beginning to suspect that his hosts had snuffed out the pull somehow. He smiled at them, trusting in his Earrings of Lies and his Tattoo of Eagle's Splendor to cover his suspicions. "I will need to rejoin my friends now," he said cheerily. "May I leave?"

Ashaaf pointed at the tent flap with the mouthpiece he held in his hand and said, "Certainly, Huzair Blacksmoke. You are our guest, not our prisoner."

"It has been a pleasure speaking with you all. Is there a way I can contact you should I ever need your services?" Huzair asked. "It would be nice to go right from my world to your ship so I do not have to wander the entire astral plane to find you."

"You may use the same methods by which your friends contacted you," Ashaaf explained. "You know our names, and Sending is a spell of only the Fifth Valance. That should pose no problem for a planewalking wizard such as yourself."

"You can tell us where you are and we can travel there," Kraal added. "Provided it is convenient for us, of course."

"And if you're ever in Sigil," Destaan chimed, "you can look us up i the Grand Bazaar."

"Thank you," Huzair smiled. "If I do require your services what would you like as payment? Do you trade gold or is there anything else more valueable that you desire from my world?"

"We mercane trade in most anything that others find to have value," Ashaaf said with a grin that showed far too many teeth. "Our bread-and-butter, you might say, is magical goods, but anything that we can trade to another would be of worth to us. Gold is nearly universal in its appeal."

"And what would the price be for you to bring my friends here then send them back?" the wizard asked.

"I can Plane Shift myself and up to seven others with a single casting," Ashaaf said. "The cost would be a paltry 2,500 pieces of gold or the equivalent in gems or magical goods." Huzair filed that little fact away and stepped toward the exit.

"You have no worries about violation of our contract," he reassured them as he paused by the tent flap. "We are friends, right? And possibly future business partners?"

"Right, Huzair Blacksmoke," Ashaaf said. "It was agreeable to make your acquaintance."

"A pity you can't travel with us for a time," Kraal said with a disinterested tone which seemed to indicate that he couldn't be bothered to care one way or the other.

"May all your trades be profitable, Huzair Blacksmoke," Destaan smiled, gesturing with one hand it what might have been a wave good-bye.

Huzair activated the Ring of Invisibility and stepped out of the pavilion and back onto the deck of the ship. The environment had changed somewhat during the time he'd been inside the extra-dimensional space. The view off the bow was now dominated by a strange floating rock from which jutted buttressed towers at all angles. Iron spikes and riveted metal plates gave the place a dangerous appearance. Huzair could see some figures moving about the various towers and while they were too small to make out any details, he was willing to bet his wand that they were githyanki.

He willed himself upward and was instantly airborne. The ship, moving faster than he, almost clipped his foot as he passed over the colorful tent. With only one last look back, Huzair pointed himself away from the githyanki outpost and flew as fast as he could in that direction.

It was at that point that he realized that he still felt nothing even hinting at a pull. What in the hells had Shamalin been talking about?

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

As I started reading, I wonderd if you were going to use Dead Gods then as I went on and I was rewarded, I wondered how Huzair plans to get his prize mined. Or if even the Heart is physical thing to be mined, maybe it's merely a destination....... *ponders*