the Jester
Legend
Felenga Vs. Acererak!!!
A few days ago...
Felenga stands, puissant and mighty, before the terrible entrance to Acererak’s Fortress of Conclusion. The composite undead with his phylactery sewn into its chest follows him. He does not know what to expect, but he is certain that he can handle... whatever it is.
And, equally, he is certain that he can persuade Acererak to aid him in destroying those interloping adventurers. Rage kindles in Felenga’s cold breast. Oh, yes; they will die. The next time he confronts them he will hit them with a disjunction of his own, and a quickened wail of the banshee; those that survive will fall quickly to his vast powers. Oh, yes. And if the demilich accompanies him- why, together they can destroy the group quickly and with infinite finality.
The gate into the Fortress of Conclusion is another great green face, but this one’s mouth is an actual gate rather than a void of blackness. Felenga pushes his way through.
Awaiting him is a winter-wight, its skull crackling with black flames, the rest of its body sheathed in gritty ice. “Welcome,” it hisses. Then it cackles maniacally. “What an... interesting choice you have made, Felenga! To come here...” It pauses dramatically. “You seek the aid of Acererak, eh?”
“Take me to your master,” Felenga sneers. “I have little patience, and perhaps less time. And this matter presses on your master as much as on me.”
The winter-wight laughs again, long and loud. “My ‘master,’ eh lich? I think you misapprehend the situation here!” The ice cracks and shifts as the winter-wight raises a hand and gestures. Felenga is astounded as the winter-wight lays the sign of the devourer upon the wall.
“You are Acererak? But...”
“My status is more complicated than you know,” the winter-wight says smugly. “Come, lich, I will show you something.”
Felenga reluctantly trails along as the winter-wight leads them to a corner and then greater teleports them both into a 50’ diameter circular chamber. Felenga’s eyes widen in surprise.
The floor, excepting a walkway around the edge of the room, is cut away. Utter blackness is evident through the hole- it’s an opening into the Void of the Negative Energy Plane. Above this, resting on a huge metal tripod that straddles the hole, is a humungous gem. Felenga instantly recognizes it as some sort of phylactery. It’s a multi-faceted gem of immense size, and each facet holds a silently-screaming, ghostly form- a soul.
Not quite all the facets- most. There are three empty ones.
“Tell me what it is that you want,” Acererak the winter-wight chuckles.
His gaze lingering on the phylactery, off-balance, Felenga answers, “There are adventurers of surpassing puissance coming for you, Acererak. Surely you know this. They are enemies of mine as well, but they will seek you out and destroy you as well.”
“I have encountered them,” the winter-wight confirms insouciantly.
“Yes, and they drove you off! Surely you have had enough of a taste of their power to know how dangerous they are! And surely you realize just how far along they are in your little gauntlet!”
“Oh, yes.” Acererak’s skull yawns. “Get to the point.”
“Together we can destroy them! We can scry them out, empower ourselves with our mightiest magicks, and gate to them while they sleep. They will not be able to survive.”
“Fool,” Acererak says flatly. “Your vision is so limited that you have not looked at what is before you. I am tempted to destroy you for your short-sightedness. I will not help you.”
Before another instant passes, Felenga blasts the winter-wight before him to oblivion. It is clear that things will come to this; it is only a matter of time. The key is to move first, ruthlessly exterminating the other. After all, it will be a temporary death of a week or less. But it will give Felenga time to get his bearings and come to an understanding of what Acererak is doing here.
A quickened lower resistance, a time stop, several volleys of empowered and maximized seeker missiles, a heightened disintegrate- the winter-wight is destroyed. Felenga turns his attention to the phylactery. If he chose, he could destroy Acererak forever.
“Fool!” comes that same gritty voice. Felenga turns to see a skull, bejeweled in the eyes and teeth, floating towards him. It seems to be descending from a hidden area above. “As I told you, my status is complicated!”
Felenga struggles to retain his composure, but surprise is pounding through him. How could he have reformed so quickly? A magic jar? But-
The skull cackles. “Much as it amuses me to watch the stupefied look on your face, I shall enlighten you, lich.”
Felenga doesn’t wait for enlightenment; he casts. Several of his most powerful wards spring into place, including a prismatic sphere, but the demilich only talks, seemingly careless of Felenga’s preparations. The Dark One grows angry. I am an Angel of the Apocalypse! he rages. How dare you treat me so disdainfully?!
“I seek a grand apotheosis,” Acererak rants. “You see, lich, my ambitions are higher than your silly desire to destroy those adventurers. I am testing them- refining them, like a rarified oil.” The skull cackles, light glinting from its gemstone encrustations. “And when they get here, they will be the final souls fuelling my apotheosis!”
Felenga think, Keep talking, fool, as he casts a fire shield and a quickened stoneskin.
“And what is my apotheosis, you ask?” Acererak continues. “I will join myself with the Negative Energy Plane itself! My essence, my being will be all of undead-kind! Anywhere an undead exists, I will be there. Anywhere I wish to be, I can shift my consciousness into. As you can see, my goals transcend mere godhood.”
Felenga casts ghostform and another quickened lower resistance at Acererak. Surely the fool will realize he must fight now!
But Acererak keeps talking, paying Felenga no heed at all, making him all the more furious. “All I need is three more souls to achieve the critical number- but the souls must be refined, powerful souls- souls of incredible perseverance and ceaseless power. My entire gauntlet, from the Tomb of Horrors to the City That Waits to my Fortress of Conclusion, is designed to ensure that the souls that make it here arrive prepared and powerful, and ready for absorption!”
Felenga casts a quickened displacement and begins summoning a terrible creature.
“In any event,” Acererak rambles, “as to the apotheosis- if I were to help you to destroy those adventurers before they arrived here, I could not use them as my ‘fuel,’ if you will. So instead, I will add you to the phylactery. A powerful lich such as yourself is just perfect, and will certainly add a little flavor. And, as you’ve probably figured out by now, the lattice of power generated by the Phylactery of the Apotheosis is sufficient to allow me to switch my consciousness into any undead within my Fortress- such as that winter-wight earlier...”
The skull lands on the ground.
Felenga’s mouth finishes, “Or yourself, of course. And though your fitful preparations to assault me were amusing, if I allowed you to finish summoning something like that, you might actually damage the Phylactery. And we can’t have that.”
Acererak, firmly in control, aborts Felenga’s spell. “Now into the phylactery we go!” he says cheerfully.
Next Time: All right, where were we- oh yeah! The Darkweaver!
A few days ago...
Felenga stands, puissant and mighty, before the terrible entrance to Acererak’s Fortress of Conclusion. The composite undead with his phylactery sewn into its chest follows him. He does not know what to expect, but he is certain that he can handle... whatever it is.
And, equally, he is certain that he can persuade Acererak to aid him in destroying those interloping adventurers. Rage kindles in Felenga’s cold breast. Oh, yes; they will die. The next time he confronts them he will hit them with a disjunction of his own, and a quickened wail of the banshee; those that survive will fall quickly to his vast powers. Oh, yes. And if the demilich accompanies him- why, together they can destroy the group quickly and with infinite finality.
The gate into the Fortress of Conclusion is another great green face, but this one’s mouth is an actual gate rather than a void of blackness. Felenga pushes his way through.
Awaiting him is a winter-wight, its skull crackling with black flames, the rest of its body sheathed in gritty ice. “Welcome,” it hisses. Then it cackles maniacally. “What an... interesting choice you have made, Felenga! To come here...” It pauses dramatically. “You seek the aid of Acererak, eh?”
“Take me to your master,” Felenga sneers. “I have little patience, and perhaps less time. And this matter presses on your master as much as on me.”
The winter-wight laughs again, long and loud. “My ‘master,’ eh lich? I think you misapprehend the situation here!” The ice cracks and shifts as the winter-wight raises a hand and gestures. Felenga is astounded as the winter-wight lays the sign of the devourer upon the wall.
“You are Acererak? But...”
“My status is more complicated than you know,” the winter-wight says smugly. “Come, lich, I will show you something.”
Felenga reluctantly trails along as the winter-wight leads them to a corner and then greater teleports them both into a 50’ diameter circular chamber. Felenga’s eyes widen in surprise.
The floor, excepting a walkway around the edge of the room, is cut away. Utter blackness is evident through the hole- it’s an opening into the Void of the Negative Energy Plane. Above this, resting on a huge metal tripod that straddles the hole, is a humungous gem. Felenga instantly recognizes it as some sort of phylactery. It’s a multi-faceted gem of immense size, and each facet holds a silently-screaming, ghostly form- a soul.
Not quite all the facets- most. There are three empty ones.
“Tell me what it is that you want,” Acererak the winter-wight chuckles.
His gaze lingering on the phylactery, off-balance, Felenga answers, “There are adventurers of surpassing puissance coming for you, Acererak. Surely you know this. They are enemies of mine as well, but they will seek you out and destroy you as well.”
“I have encountered them,” the winter-wight confirms insouciantly.
“Yes, and they drove you off! Surely you have had enough of a taste of their power to know how dangerous they are! And surely you realize just how far along they are in your little gauntlet!”
“Oh, yes.” Acererak’s skull yawns. “Get to the point.”
“Together we can destroy them! We can scry them out, empower ourselves with our mightiest magicks, and gate to them while they sleep. They will not be able to survive.”
“Fool,” Acererak says flatly. “Your vision is so limited that you have not looked at what is before you. I am tempted to destroy you for your short-sightedness. I will not help you.”
Before another instant passes, Felenga blasts the winter-wight before him to oblivion. It is clear that things will come to this; it is only a matter of time. The key is to move first, ruthlessly exterminating the other. After all, it will be a temporary death of a week or less. But it will give Felenga time to get his bearings and come to an understanding of what Acererak is doing here.
A quickened lower resistance, a time stop, several volleys of empowered and maximized seeker missiles, a heightened disintegrate- the winter-wight is destroyed. Felenga turns his attention to the phylactery. If he chose, he could destroy Acererak forever.
“Fool!” comes that same gritty voice. Felenga turns to see a skull, bejeweled in the eyes and teeth, floating towards him. It seems to be descending from a hidden area above. “As I told you, my status is complicated!”
Felenga struggles to retain his composure, but surprise is pounding through him. How could he have reformed so quickly? A magic jar? But-
The skull cackles. “Much as it amuses me to watch the stupefied look on your face, I shall enlighten you, lich.”
Felenga doesn’t wait for enlightenment; he casts. Several of his most powerful wards spring into place, including a prismatic sphere, but the demilich only talks, seemingly careless of Felenga’s preparations. The Dark One grows angry. I am an Angel of the Apocalypse! he rages. How dare you treat me so disdainfully?!
“I seek a grand apotheosis,” Acererak rants. “You see, lich, my ambitions are higher than your silly desire to destroy those adventurers. I am testing them- refining them, like a rarified oil.” The skull cackles, light glinting from its gemstone encrustations. “And when they get here, they will be the final souls fuelling my apotheosis!”
Felenga think, Keep talking, fool, as he casts a fire shield and a quickened stoneskin.
“And what is my apotheosis, you ask?” Acererak continues. “I will join myself with the Negative Energy Plane itself! My essence, my being will be all of undead-kind! Anywhere an undead exists, I will be there. Anywhere I wish to be, I can shift my consciousness into. As you can see, my goals transcend mere godhood.”
Felenga casts ghostform and another quickened lower resistance at Acererak. Surely the fool will realize he must fight now!
But Acererak keeps talking, paying Felenga no heed at all, making him all the more furious. “All I need is three more souls to achieve the critical number- but the souls must be refined, powerful souls- souls of incredible perseverance and ceaseless power. My entire gauntlet, from the Tomb of Horrors to the City That Waits to my Fortress of Conclusion, is designed to ensure that the souls that make it here arrive prepared and powerful, and ready for absorption!”
Felenga casts a quickened displacement and begins summoning a terrible creature.
“In any event,” Acererak rambles, “as to the apotheosis- if I were to help you to destroy those adventurers before they arrived here, I could not use them as my ‘fuel,’ if you will. So instead, I will add you to the phylactery. A powerful lich such as yourself is just perfect, and will certainly add a little flavor. And, as you’ve probably figured out by now, the lattice of power generated by the Phylactery of the Apotheosis is sufficient to allow me to switch my consciousness into any undead within my Fortress- such as that winter-wight earlier...”
The skull lands on the ground.
Felenga’s mouth finishes, “Or yourself, of course. And though your fitful preparations to assault me were amusing, if I allowed you to finish summoning something like that, you might actually damage the Phylactery. And we can’t have that.”
Acererak, firmly in control, aborts Felenga’s spell. “Now into the phylactery we go!” he says cheerfully.
Next Time: All right, where were we- oh yeah! The Darkweaver!
