The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #354] Our Rifts are Sealed!

The chilling irony of the situation did nothing to help calm Shamalin's nerves. So far, in her struggles against evil, her adversaries had taken a definite shape and form. They had been truly horrible, yes, but in some twisted way at least they had followed the conventions of good and evil. This... mistake... was nothing like that.

Someone, with malicious intent, had sought to secure the suspended creatures with an impenetrable wall. For all the right reasons Shamalin's party had been successful at breaching that wall - only to find the obstacle itself far more lethal than anything it may have been guarding. Why was Aphyx wasting her time with Vectors and plague when all it would take to destroy the world was an uncontainable leak of negative energy?

Shamalin clattered to a stop, startling the others. "Wait! There has to be an answer to this!" she cried, looking back down the corridor at Ayremac. Beyond him she could see the light-devouring darkness of the cloud.

"Lass, ye've done what ye could an-" Karak began, but it was clear that the half-elf wasn't listening to him. Her eyes darted around frantically as she tried to recall any scrap of divine knowledge that could save them.

"A Magical Circle against Evil might..." she started but then shook her head. "Negative Energy isn't really evil."

"If we could Consecrate the area," Ayremac offered as he approached, "that would make channeling much-"

"Consecrate! That's it! I can Consecrate the area!" Shamalin shouted, galvanized by the suggestion. Then her face fell. "But I'd need some silver dust to do it."

"I have some," Ayremac told her, "And something else that might help."



Shamalin watched as Ayremac drew forth the spruce altar case from his bag. His every action was reverent - slow and deliberate - so that to someone else the advancing cloud of negative energy might have seemed no more than some odd mist. But Shamalin caught the ever-slight tremor of his hands as he methodically assembled the altar, and it unnerved her more than she cared to admit. Forcing a deep breath, she sought to calm her own emotions in order to perform the task which lay ahead of them.

"We'll still need to get the altar near the breach," Ayremac admitted, looking up at the others but not quite meeting anyone's eyes. "I'd volunteer, but I think I'm needed to channel positive energy."

"It needs to be inside the cloud?" Morier asked, making sure that he understood. Both Shamalin and Ayremac nodded and the eldritch warrior let out a resigned sigh. "I can do it. It's not like I'm much help any other way."

"Oi, elf! You think ye're gonna beat a dwarf in handlin' that cloud?" Karak scoffed. "Why in the dungeons o' Mara a poisonous cloud escaped inta the collapsed tunnels and lasted fer two weeks. Aye, a few of me lads died, but they was 200 years old. It's gonna take more than a cloud to get rid o' Karak, 'ere." He clanged his mailed fist against his breastplate.

"I brought you all here, Karak," Morier countered. "If someone has to-" Huzair cut him off by suddenly becoming visible beside them both.

"We're fighting over who gets to die, now?" the mage asked, incredulous. "I guess it is up to me to save you idiots." He produced a bit of string that he'd knotted 'round a small twig and moved it and his hands through some complex gestures. "Invisus apparitor!" he commanded and then gave a smug nod.

"An' jus' how was that' supposed to save anybody?" Karak asked for there was no visible spell effect.

"It's an Unseen Servant," Morier explained, having recognized the spell. Looking at Huzair he nodded begrudgingly. "Clever."

"I'm just glad to see that you weren't completely asleep during your father's lessons," Huzair said, taking the albino's compliment with his usual good nature. "He used to love his Unseen Servants as I recall. Almost as much as Garan-Zak!" Huzair gave a disgusted look and to Morier in a hushed tone added, "Remind me to tell you what I caught him doing with one one day."

"I still do nae see how yer-" Karak began and Morier explained.

"It can move things... like the altar," the elf told him. "And it's not alive so it'll be unharmed by exposure to negative energy. Huzair can just direct it from right here."

"Good," Shamaln said. "Then let's begin. The altar's ready."

Ayremac held the slim wooden altar in his two hands, offering it to the mage. Huzair looked at it skeptically and the Officer of Umba felt it lifted easily out of his grasp and watched as it glided silently into the cloud.

"Where do you want it?" the wizard asked as they watched the altar, now only dimly visible inside the dark cloud.

"Right there will do," Shamalin said and she began to cast.



"I'm feeling pretty useless here, guys," Lela admitted as she alighted on Karak's shoulder. The hallway was filled with chanting as Shamalin and Ayremac went to work on the Negative Energy eruption.

"I know the feeling," Morier confided.

"Well, I was thinking that I could dash downstairs and search around for the keys a bit," the sprite said. "I'm fast and sneaky and have a magic trick or two that can make me really good at spotting things... like keys."

"Here take this," Huzair said, tearing his attention away from the spectacle of channeled energy long enough to thrust something into Lela's hands. "It may come in handy." The sprite looked in astonishment at the Ring of Invisibility she held in her hand. As she handled it it shrunk down to proper size for her tiny fingers.

"It belonged to your friend anyway," Huzair said as he turned back to watch Shamalin and Ayremac's progress. After a moment he added, "Feln would want you to be protected." Lela smiled at the wizard's back and disappeared.



"I can only channel energy once more today, Shamalin," Ayremac admitted to the cleric as they finally stepped within the area of Shamalin's Consecrate effect. The Negative Energy eruption had shrunk dramatically as a result of their combined efforts and it amounted to a few wisps of shadowy darkness around the utter dark of the tear itself. Shamalin looked with horror at that black void and a shudder ran through her involuntarily. Would a merciful god truly allow negative energy to roll across the Realms swallowing everything in its wake, she wondered.

"Then you should pray, Ayremac, that I have the strength to do what must be done," she said, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. She raised her holy symbol and implored Flor again in desperation, unable to imagine what could command the White Lady's attention more than this.



Ayremac looked into the tear, and knew that was what he'd fought against for the last many years- every time he channeled Umba's will against the undead. That blackness was what made the dead walk. That cold was what allowed necromancers to exist without taking the Walk of a Hundred Days. It was an abomination, always there, waiting for him to combat it. And combat it he would![1]

He held his arms wide, displaying the holy symbol engraved into his armor and grabbed Shamalin's hand.



Shamalin felt her faith bolstered first by power of the Consecrated altar and then again by the reassuring clutch of Ayremac's hand in hers. Together they held up their holy symbols and willed the tear to close. A warm flood of positive energy moved through her, focusing on her outstretched holy symbol. The silver seemed to burn momentarily with the heat and light of the sun and then it pulsed.

And the tear was gone.



The narrow cell was empty of the black mist and as they watched the stitched and tattooed horror that had been suspended within sprawled out onto the floor with a wet slap. After a moment, it began to stir.

-------------------------------------------

[1] This bit with Ayremac is a direct homage to a scene from one of my favorite old time Story Hours drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hourhttp://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=103. It was one of the two story hours that first brought me to ENWorld way back when.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #355] What Vectors Do

A huge wave of relief washed over Shamalin upon seeing the negative energy rift close. She blew a strand of hair - damp with sweat despite the frigid air in the chamber - out of her eyes, feeling as if she had just run a temple footrace. But there was no time to celebrate, as everyone's attention was fixed on the creature before them.

It lay supine on the floor, its limbs working ineffectually against the stone. It made no sound other than the rasp of its paper-white flesh against the flags.



"Are you coming with me?" Lela's disembodied voice spoke into Morier's ear. "Or are you going to stay and mess with that... thing." The sprite didn't need to be a druid to tell that the creature lying on the floor of the chamber was unnatural.

"Well, it do seem to me to be a waste to not examine this body, 'ere. Since we went through all the trouble to mar the rune in the first place," Karak observed. "Lemme take a look see." He stamped back toward the room.

Morier turned in the direction of the faen's voice. "No, Lela. Splitting up is a bad idea," he told her. "We should learn what we can here and move on. We are very near to our goal." Then Morier followed after the dwarf leaving Huzair, Spot and Lela alone in the hallway. The wizard held out his hand.

"I will have my ring back, please," Huzair said and Spot growled low in his throat.



"Shamalin, can you talk to the dead again, lass," Karak asked as he moved up beside Ayremac and Shamalin. "Mayhaps this poor being, 'ere can tell us something. Let's ask it, 'what is its purpose?'"

"I could," the cleric admitted, but she pointed at the tattooed thing and shook her head. "But this creature isn't truly dead. I'd considered Detecting its Thoughts, but..." Ayremac laid his hand on her shoulder.

"To touch such a creature's mind," he nodded understanding. "I would not wish such a thing were it me working the miracle." Karak looked at the cleric's drawn face then down at the monstrous thing working itself awkwardly to its feet.

"I ken ye," the dwarf said with a nod. "So what do ye reckon we do with it?"

"We could try talking," Morier suggested as he came up behind them. Whether that would have worked or not became academic a moment later as the thing finally gained its feet. It touched one of the tattoos on its forearm, causing the rune to glow briefly with a pale blue luminescence.

All at once an obscuring cloud of noxious vapors rose up at Karak's feet. The dwarf screwed up his face in disgust. Morier and Ayremac both gagged. Shamalin doubled over and began to retch uncontrollably. Karak recovered quickly and swung his waraxe in a massive uppercut that opened a gash across the thing's torso, spilling rotted, green organs from the wound. The axe reversed direction and came down again, but the thing danced back into the mist and vanished from the dwarf's view.

Ayremac drew his morningstar and the weapon began to glow, illuminating the cloud and dimly revealing himself and the others nearby. But there was no sign of the creature. "Where'd it go?" the holy warrior asked, nonplussed. Morier held Ravager in a fierce two-handed grip and he strode purposefully forward.

"It's got to be here somewhere," he cursed as he went. After a few paces, he reached the empty cell that had once held the thing in suspension, but he couldn't see it anywhere. "Not here!" he called just as Shamalin screamed.



The thing was upon her almost before she realized it was there. Its hand pawed at her armor as its head leered in toward hers. She caught a frighteningly vivid glimpse of the stitches that closed its eyes and nose and mouth writhing and reaching menacingly toward her. She was able somehow to twist away, avoiding the questing red strands despite the fact that a fist of sickness was clenched firm around her guts. Still, there was nothing she could do to retaliate but dry heave in its general direction.

Fortunately, Ayremac hadn't left Shamalin's side and he lashed out with his weapon, catching the tattooed horror on the side of its head with a sickening crunch. It jerked to the side, but retained its footing.

Karak charged out of the mist, his waraxe flashing in the light of Ayremac's morningstar. The weapon split the thing's ribcage with such force that fully a third of the crescent blade protruded from its back until the dwarf jerked it free and the silent creature fell in a messy heap.



"So maybe I should just scout ahead," Lela suggested later after the sickening cloud had cleared.

"No!!" Morier snapped. "We don't want to split up! Especially here!!"

"Awww!" Lela twittered. "It was just a suggestion. I'm fine with waiting. I just hate not feeling useful."

"I agree with Morier, Lela. You have proven yourself an independant and capable explorer, but please.. .this group has seen enough loss and this wretched cave has put all six of us at death's door once already." Ayremac explained. "I would feel better knowing that anything I face I will have your quick reactions to back me up." Lela smiled at him.

"Okay," she said.

"Well since I've already got the Unseen Servant going I think I'll just have it dart in and retrieve that shortsword for me when we head past the armory again," Huzair said and Morier snapped his head around to regard the mage with shocked disbelief.

"Now you want to go back to the armory and get a sword? SURE, I can't envision anything that could possibly go wrong with that... that's a GREAT IDEA! Everything else we've decided to touch has gone so well for us," the albino shouted, his words burning with sarcasm. "You know what else? I think we could dress ourselves in full plate and run up and down the hallways clanging off of every wall. We could get Ayremac to blow a trumpet announcing our presence as well! That would be great! Just imagine the welcome we'd receive! I'll bet they'd bring tea to make us feel extra welcome. I can hear it now: 'Oh, you're here to steal our most prized possession and the only link we have to maintaining our evil control over the Realms? - Wait... we'll get you a cushion to sit on and rest first. Would you like a cookie?'"

Lela laughed at the albino's tirade. Many of the others just looked at him in surprise.

"Can we PLEASE stop doing unnecessarily risky, dangerous, stupid things in here?" the eldritch warrior pleaded. "Are the odds not stacked heavily enough against us? Must we decide to disturb as much as we are able while we're here? We've barged in here like a band of barbarians; stealing, pillaging, destroying whatever lies in our reach. Perhaps if we took a more stealthy approach through this wretched place, we'd find ourselves faced with fewer situations that pull us in every direction, depleting our resources and draining our energies." There was a heavy silence for a moment during which not even Huzair had anything to say. Finally, Ayremac removed his helmet, holding it carefully on his hip, and spoke.

"Morier, I understand that was a stressful situation...and maybe we all need a moment to collect ourselves," the Officer said, pausing to look around at the group. "I am not saying I am above stealth and discretion, but I am no thief. I didn't come in here to sneak around and steal a set of keys from whatever evil lies in this cave, just to have them hunt us down and nip at our heels as we try to progress."

"I'm not saying we behave like thieves," Morier replied, exasperated. "I'm just saying we should think our way through this. It may take longer, but perhaps we'll get out of here alive with the keys in our posession." Karak harrumphed.

"Well, now lad on that I agree with you, but I just have to say I can nae see you e'en bein' able to carry heavy plate," the dwarf added. "And by the way, I AM part barbarian, so I and me barbarian chalaks take a bit o' offense to suggestin' we be a bunch of mauradin' pirates."

"Karak, I-" Morier started until he spotted the dwarf's grin and realized that he was being made fun of.

"As for you, Huzair," Karak continued, pointing his axe at the mage's chest. "I'm bristlin with weapons. I got hand axes, daggers, warhammers, scimitars, Ledare's longsword and o' course me axe, here." He patted the rune encrusted head llovingly. "Just ask and any be yours to use."

"The shortsword's-" Huzair started to say until the dwarf cut him off.

"Why'n you be so fixated on that blasted short sword? I tell you this, you go near it an' it animates - you deal with it yourself," Karak told him. "We've been all tellin' ye to leave that thing alone. Now let it be."

"Have my sword if you must! " Shamalin said, drawing it with effort. She offered the blade to the wizard but he didn't reach for it. "Only don't go into that room." All eyes were momentarily on the wizard, but Huzair just snorted and lit a cigar.

"Now let's get done what we set out here to do," Karak suggested. "Are we in agreement about how to proceed?" Morier asked, looking at the others. "No more pointlessly risky behavior?"

"As the new member to this party, I will defer to your lead," Ayremac said, holding his chin up defiantly. "But understand that I am here to stamp out the evil of this cave while achieving your greater goal."

"Karak, would you explain the allegory of the beehive to our newcomer?" the albino said as he turned and headed back down the hallway.



"Gods dammit!" Karak cursed as he drew back from the now open door. Fresh blood was spattered on his arm where he'd pressed against the great iron valve to open it. Whoever had designed the door had done so in such a way that it was impossible to open without getting scratched or pierced by the many cruel spikes that decorated its face. The injury was minor, but it irked the dwarf to have to pay a toll in blood.

Shamalin used an orison to heal the minor wound and they moved on. The door opened onto a hallway that ran perpendicular to the one they'd entered by. To the right there was another corridor leading away on the opposite wall and the hallway it turned sharply left after about 35 feet. Likewise to the left it turned a corner after about 25 feet. Almost directly across from the doorway was an opening into a room. It was dark within, but the rattle and clink of chains echoed out into the hallway.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

The door opened onto a hallway that ran perpendicular to the one they'd entered by. To the right there was another corridor leading away on the opposite wall and the hallway it turned sharply left after about 35 feet. Likewise to the left it turned a corner after about 25 feet. Almost directly across from the doorway was an opening into a room. It was dark within, but the rattle and clink of chains echoed out into the hallway.

Catching up after GenCon.

Anyway, where was this doorway? Directly across from the party, or at the turn of a hallway? I don't know why my mind got stuck here. Great updates for the last 9 days though!

 

[Jon Potter]

Catching up after GenCon.

Anyway, where was this doorway? Directly across from the party, or at the turn of a hallway? I don't know why my mind got stuck here.

I'm not the best describer of map details. When we sit down to play, I'm a draw it out for the players type of DM.

The doorway in question, though, is the one through which they entered this section of the complex.

Great updates for the last 9 days though!

I'm glad you've been enjoying them. Those of us not lucky enough to be at the con had to entertain outrselves some way.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #357] The Trouble with Demons

"Should I go take a peek into that room invisibly?" Huzair asked. He opened the flap on his Handy Haversack and reached inside. "I've got an everburning torch in here that I could toss into the room."

"Using the dwarf's logic, I suggest we hug a wall," Ayremac said, forestalling the mage. "Is it to the right or left, Karak?"

"The right," Morier answered.

"Well, then lads and lassies, let us off to the right," Karak said, rapping his waraxe oce on the stone floor. "Shamalin, does your goddess leave you room to cure this fatigue o' mine." Shamalin stifled a yawn and shook her head.

"I fear that only rest will help that, Karak," the cleric explained sadly.

"Keep an eye on that wound, Karak," Ayremac cautioned. "Why would a door have a trap that caused only a minor wound if not to deliver a poison or an apothecary's concoction of some kind?" The dwarf nodded, flexing the fingers of that hand experimentally.

"Aye. I'll be keeping an eye out for me small wound, here. I do nae trust the contagion I may get down 'ere any more that ye do," Karak favored the holy warrior with a wink that seemed to say, 'you can't poison a dwarf' and then he pointed at the albino. "I do trust that Morier, here, knows how to identify the keys when we se 'em. So let's get to it."

Huzair scowled and thrust the everburning torch back inside his traveler's back. His dark fingers momentarily caressed The Valliant Vessel Shipping and Trading Company logo that was worked in gold onto the bag's clasp. "Well, even if you don't want to go into that room I still plan to blink to keep an eye out for ethereal threats," he said, activating the ring before anyone could protest.



As before Huzair experienced the strange stuttering interplay of the Prime Material and the Ethereal Planes and as before it took him a few moments to orient himself to seeing slices of both realities. He could catch enough of his companion's stammered conversation to gather that they were debating the value of retreating to one of the rooms that they'd already cleared upstairs and resting until morning.

Whenever morning was; it was damned difficult to tell in these tunnels. But the plan got Huzair's vote in any case since he still had designs on that shortsword he'd seen upstairs. The level of magic powering the blade was simply too great to be ignored. And he could send in his Unseen Servant to get it since it wouldn't trigger any pressure plates in the floor when it-

His thoughts were snapped instantly back to reality when he noticed that his presence on the Ethereal Plane had attracted the attention of an enormous creature that looked like nothing so much as the unholy cross-breed of a vulture and a man. Its sinewy body was covered with a chaotic mess of feathers but the head it craned around to look at the mage was naked like that of a carrion bird. Its eyes burned with malice.

"A Type I demon!" Huzair thought in horror. What time he'd devoted to learning about the planes was mostly spent reading Garan-zak's out-dated manual of monsters. He knew that the more proper name for this creature was Vrock, but the old fashioned designations he'd read in his youth still stuck in his mind.

Before he could do much more than register the Vrock's sudden appearance, it gestured at him and he felt a powerful telekinetic force thrust him violently into Morier with enough strength to knock both men prone.

Then the Vrock plane-shifted to the Prime screeching a battlecry.

-------------------------

OOC: It was at this point, I think, that Huzair's player finally realized that every time he blinked he was attracting demonic attention.

 

[recentcoin]

It certainly took him long enough to realize....I was starting to wonder if he had a death wish or if he was doing it deliberately - a fifth column kind of thing.

RC

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #358] Between a Vrock and a Hard Place

As the horrible sound washed over them, it was answered by cries from within the group. Several were so stunned by the Vrock's sudden appearance that they just stood in place, clutching at their heads. Huzair was not one of those effected by the sonic attack and he rolled around on top of Morier - but didn't bother to stand - as he aimed his wand at the demon. He spoke the command word and a line of fire washed over the creature although the magic seemed not to actually touch it.

"Spell resistance!" the mage cursed in Ignan - a sound that was not unlike a pine knot popping in a campfire. Then Morier heaved him violently aside as the albino got to his feet. The eldritch warrior raised his sword and closed with the thing a half-step behind Karak.

The dwarf's waraxe cut a glittering frozen arc through the air as he swung at - and missed - the Vrock. In turn, the creature's claws skittered harmlessly over Karak's platemail as he stepped into position, but it was enough of a distraction to allow Ravager to find its way passed the demon's defenses; the saw-toothed weapon bit deeply into the Vrock's side, spilling foul-smelling ichor onto the stone floor.

Still, the wicked blade left a much shallower wound than Morier thought it should have.



Lela shook her head to clear it after the demon's stunning screech. The rattling clink of metal on metal still seemed to fill her ears and it was only with some effort that she realized the source of the sound was the room across the hall. It was dark in there, she saw; it could be hiding anything. With a gesture, she filled the center of the chamber with faerie fire, liming the floor, ceiling and the four columns there in a violet dweomer. The purplish illumination also revealed a chain-draped body propped in the shadowy recess of the far corner.

"I've got something over here!" she chirped, flying cautiously into the room.

Ayremac watched her go off on her own. He glanced at Karak and Morier who were going toe-to-toe with the demon and effectively blocking the corridor. There was little he could do there so he brandished his morningstar and followed Lela.



"Shamalin! We need our Weapons Aligned!" Morier commanded, sparing a glance back over his shoulder at the cleric. The half-elf was struggling to recover from the Vrock's sonic attack and her first thought was that she didn't really care for the way the eldritch warrior was ordering her around. Still she moved dutifully forward and lay her hand on Karak's axe. In her mind she felt the weight and chill of the heavy weapon, tinged with its magical abilities. Quickly, she appealed to the White Lady to make her strength present in its purpose and align those abilities to good.

She was just in time for the dwarf to swing twice at the demon, missing both times.

In retaliation, the Vrock ruffled its feathers releasing a hellish cloud of spores that burrowed painfully into Karak and Morier. Then its claws slammed into him, raking painfully between the armor plates protecting his shoulder. The thing's strength was unbelievable!

Morier's leather armor offered him little protection from the demon's talons. One dug into his left arm, drawing lines of blood across his bicep. Another sank deeply into his belly, critically injurying him as it ripped out a large chunk of meat and viscera. The eldritch warrior screamed in pain, an apron of wet crimson spreading across his thighs.



Ayremac stepped into the eerily-lit room, his face bathed in the glow of Lela's faerie fire. The intense light shed by his enchanted morningstar soon banished most of the room's shadows and he could clearly see the withered figure seemingly suspended from the numerous chains along the far wall. When it lurched free and swung one of those same chains at the holy warrior, he was proved wrong, of course.

The spiked chain wrapped suddenly around Ayremac's leading leg and snapped the limb out from under him. He slammed hard into the floor, momentarily dazed and utterly unable to avoid the other end of the chain as it came around and smashed against the side of his helmet like a clapper against the side of a bell.



Karak ignored the spores burrowing painfully into his flesh and, bellowing in anger, swung his waraxe once into the demon's hip and then then again into its opposite arm. The creature's resistance to mortal weapon's did nothing to reduce the punishment wrought by the holy blade and the Vrock shrieked in pain as its foul ichor splattered across the floor.
The demon's apparent weakness was heartening to Morier, and he channelled the eldritch power of his most potent spell into Ravager. The sword bit eagerly into the Vrock's torso, releasing a devastating electrical attack that affected the demon little if at all. Only the welcome surge of Shamalin's healing hand undoing most of his injuries kept the albino from crying out in frustration.



Lela cursed as the undead thing revealed itself immune to the power of her faerie dust. But she was happy an instant later as a Flaming Sphere appeared at the creature's feet, burning it badly. Huzair appeared nearby with a smug look on his face. The zombie took a swing at Lela with its chain, but the heavy links whistled passed her doing little more than tussling her hair.

Nearby, Ayremac regained his feet, avoiding another attempt to put him on the floor. He rushed in close, slamming his morningstar solidly against the undead blasphemy's head, relocating its jawbone to the far side of its withered face.

Lela back-pedaled through the air, out of the zombie's reach and began readying her bow. The room strobed with ruddy light as Huzair sent a pair of Magic Missiles sizzling into the zombie's chest. It staggered back from the magical onslaught, fire from the Flaming Sphere continuing to lick up its body.

"Yes!" the mage exclaimed pumping his fist once in victory. He was proud of his magical one-two punch. Nevermind that it was an arrow from Lela's shortbow that actually dropped the zombie a few seconds later. His magic had done most of the work.



Outside in the hallway, the Vrock continued to trade blows with Karak and Morier. It was giving perhaps better than it was getting where Morier was concerned. The eldritch warrior lacked his dwarven ally's Aligned Weapon and his best magical attack was electrical and therefore useless against a foe with strong resistance to such energy. Only the fact that Shamalin stood behind him in the corridor pumping a stream of healing magic into him kept the lightly armored warrior on his feet and in the fight at all.

Karak, for his part, was picking up the albino's slack, delivering flesh-hewing double-handed blows to the Vrock while his own heavy armor - for the most part - turned aside the worst of the demon's claws. He was bleeding from a few scratches and gashes, but his own wounds were nothing compared to Morier's.



Shamalin moved as quickly as she could once more to Morier’s side and scowled at him. The healing graces of Flor’s mercy were flowing abundantly today, and she bit her lip against the bitterness of her own thoughts. It was her duty to The Order, she knew, to heal him again. But she lost her sense of determination as images of a different party who had not been blessed with so many chances assailed her. She tried to push away the thoughts, but they had been lurking in her subconscious and would not be put aside. She moved methodically through the motions of a Cure Serious Wounds spell, but even before finishing she knew the spell would go awry. The attempt left her listless and she sank to her knees under the weight of her own renewed grief. Morier looked quizzically at her, but she turned away.



A few moments later, the Vrock collapsed with Karak's waraxe lodged deep in its avian skull.


"I dinnae like the idea of leavin' parts o' this place unexplored at our backs," Karak said later after they'd retreated back to the room where they had so recently fought three demons.

"But I thought we agreed that the keys were most likely downstairs?" Lela countered, inexpertly stifling a yawn. The dwarf shrugged.

"If a thing be worth doin' it be worth doin' proper," he told her. "Leavin' half this floor unexplored rankles me."

"It had been my hope that the keys would be readily apparent once we reached the lower level," Morier nodded. "Judging by what we saw of it, that's not likely to be the case. I think Karak might have a point."

Shamalin just shook her head and rolled over. The half-elf seemed small without her armor on, frail even.

"And I'd like to get another try at that shortswo-" Huzair started to say, but Morier cut him off.

"Don't start, Huzair!" the albino snapped. "We're not going to risk all of our lives for a weapon that you'll never even use!"

"Aye!" Karak nodded. "Why fight the guardian armor if we dinnae have to?"

"Why isn't a suit of armor just a suit of armor?" the wizard groused, dragging himself to a spot against a nearby wall and falling promptly asleep.

"I'll take first watch," Karak snorted after a few moments' pause but Ayremac shook his head.

"Let me," he suggested. "You're still weakened from before and I'm the only one amongst us who doesn't have to worry about spell-casting tomorrow."



The first room they explored in the morning was a larder stocked with the butchered corpses of a disturbing number of sentient humanoid species. In the center of the room hovered a misty globe roughly the size of a fist that was shedding a pale radiance.

"This is interesting," Huzair muttered as he cast Detect Magic. "That sphere is clearly magical. I want to explore more." Morier ignored him and entered the freezing chamber.

Ice scritched beneath his feet as he moved forward, extending a hand to touch the sphere. It was incredibly cold - so cold that touching it felt like touching a hot coal fresh from the furnace - and the eldritch warrior jerked his hand back with a hiss of pain. His fingertips were frostbit.

"I'm a bit resistant to cold," Ayremac informed him, as he looked critically at the albino's injured hand. "You should have let me do it."

"Thanks," Morier deadpanned.

"What do you suppose it is?" Lela asked as she hovered near the sphere, her words pluming like smoke form her lips.

"At a guess I'd say it's a link to the Paraelemental Plane of Ice," Huzair said from the doorway. The mage didn't much like the cold. "It forms at the juncture of the Elemental Planes of Air and Water."

"I thought that was the Plane of Steam," Morier argued as he sucked on his fingers. Huzair shook his head.

"Steam is a Quasielemental Plane, Morier," the mage corrected and it was plain to see that he truly enjoyed doing so. "You really should have read Shemeska's Planewalker Guide a little closer." Morier shot Huzair a disparaging look and shouldered his way out into the hall.

"Let's go," he said. "There's nothing to see here."

 

[Jon Potter]

It certainly took him long enough to realize....I was starting to wonder if he had a death wish or if he was doing it deliberately - a fifth column kind of thing.

RC

In his defense it was only a 1 in 6 chance (if I remember correctly) so it didn't happen every time. And I wasn't rolling that chance out in front of him.

It made a somewhat challenging dungeon romp into a near death-trap at times, too. So I was kind of happy that he didn't catch on sooner.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

" "You really should have read Shemeska's Planewalker Guide a little closer." Morier shot Huzair a disparaging look and shouldered his way out into the hall.

Dang, these product placement ads are popping up all over, I wonder if they change it for the Made for TV release?

Good Update Jon, My old DM had salt water under the ice...... not fun.

 

[Jon Potter]

Dang, these product placement ads are popping up all over, I wonder if they change it for the Made for TV release?

That was just a fun little thing I added for the benefit of Story Hour readers. I've gamed with Shemeska (the board member, not the yugoloth) and used his Planewalker site to get my cosmology correct.

Good Update Jon, My old DM had salt water under the ice...... not fun.

Well, we won't be visitting any para-elemental planes any time soon. Salt water, on the other hand...