If there is a demon in the game, never, ever take your eyes of it. You might end up regretting it for longer than you thought possible.
-Sevesh Nhall, Zhentarim Mage
A fool who deals with demons deserves what he gets in the long run. It's the poor bastards whose lives are wrecked along the way that I fight for.
-Gaheris Trollbane, Paladin of Tyr
Gutweaver stood in the darkness behind the army. His vision pierced the darkness with ease. The attack on the city had failed, their feeble instruments broken or scattered and the lives of their soldiers lost. Much would change if their masters would intervene. They could shatter gates and crumble walls, but in order to that they would have to expose themselves to their enemy who would snuff their lives. The enemy who Gutweaver had been sent to destroy.
But he could not reveal himself to the masters of the army either, which suited him just fine. They would attack again in the next few days when they had more equipment to try and force the walls. Lives would be thrown away like water, but their was no shortage of those. The overmasters would be delighted to take massive casualties as long as their enemy was weakened enough to be easily overcome.
Gutweaver didn't hold that against them as he tended to think that way himself. They were cowardly fools and he did detest them for being weak. The klurichir raised both sets of arms and drew upon his vast reservoirs of power and skill. The night sky flashed a deep red and thunder rolled across over him.
Golden bones materialized, forming the frames of portals in a dark-red hellscape. A monstrosity pushed its way through each gate, each one more than eight feet tall. They were a grotesque mixture of ape and boar, with hoofed feet, tusk filled maws, and powerful rending fingers. Small wings sprouted from their enormous back. They were nalfeshnees, among the most powerful of the tanar'ri demons. They lowered their gazes in fear and deference. As terrible as the nalfeshnees were, they were nothing to the klurichirs, beings that even the mighty balors tread lightly around.
"I will have need of your cunning soon," Gutweaver spoke. "For now we wait for mortals to suffer and die. When enough blood has been spilled we will finish the weak and pick their bones."
The nalfeshnees grunted their approval, visions of unspeakable cruelties dancing in their brains.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"So, we maybe killed four hundred, maybe five at the outside," said Trizkel."
"We keep that up for fifty days and we win," said Nalifan with a smile. The sky flashed the red of arterial blood and a moment later thunder rolled over them.
"What was that?" Trizkel asked. "A planar breach?"
"Yes," Nalifan answered. They had relocated to another tower, wrapped with spells of obfuscation, and now the two drow stood watch while the others slept. "I'm surprised that the overmasters would be willing to bring something through, the way the Greater and Lesser Wards are interconnected. On the other hand, the Wards are still strong and they do seem to prefer that someone else do the dying."
"So no danger of it breaking down soon?" asked Trizkel.
"Not from just opening gates. It's still to damn strong, but the Lesser Ward can be damaged by those it contains. I have no idea what remains alive inside of it, but there could be some damn strong and very angry demons who have spent the last millenia or so looking for weak points and devising methods of attack."
"Right," said Trizkel. "Its not how much more until the Lesser Ward collapses its how much more until the demons inside are able to collapse the Lesser Ward and no one knows how much that is."
"Exactly."
"So what do you think will happen next?"
"They'll spend the next few days making siege toys. Then they'll come after us again, with the aid of their summoned pets. If they have the right skills, they might be able to augment some of their engines to have a better effect. It will be a lot rougher this time around. They'll try to drowned us in blood and steel before committing themselves to the fight."
"About what I thought. We have a good counter to that?"
"Oh yes, we most certainly do."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zehaneth's bat body soared high above the city. Somewhere within were his prey, but now was not the time to attack. They would be wary now, on their guard, and he had but one of his bodies here. The others had to run, when they were not feasting on humans or cattle. Soon there would be enough blood and souls consumed to form yet another body.
Zehaneth wasn't in any hurry, but the compulsion placed upon him compelled him to attack as soon as possible. The overmasters had underestimated him, but they weren't total fools. Once the prey was disposed of they would turn on him and chain him once again in the darkness and starve him down to a feeble shadow of his power. There was no way he could avoid that.
But if he was active long enough, then Gutweaver would be able to wreck considerable damage. If the Lesser Ward failed and Gutweaver's demons joined with the horde contained in the Ward, then they would need to free him. If they survived that long. And if they perished, he would once again be free. Demon blood and demon souls would suit Zehaneth just fine.
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On the fourth day, they attacked again. Countless companies raised ladders and spread out in a great crescent, to sweep around attack a far broader stretch of wall. In the center of the formation were rams, their heads glowing with silver fire. Hundreds of archers marched forward, to darken the sky with arrows and hope for a lucky shot that would wound one of their foes.
Behind them five man teams wrestled great crossbows mounted on wheeled frames. The ballistae and the engineers that had restored them to use had been flown from dusty armories in other cities. Bolts the size of javelins waited in troughs to be sent hurling through the air and perhaps end the lives of the mighty. Behind them all the psilords and mindknights waited, ready to scourge all those who faltered while protected by the distance from those they truly feared.
Nalifan, Prince of House D'Azurentien, arch-necromancer, master of high magic, stood invisibly on the battlements as they approached. He flexed his fingers. "I'm going to enjoy this," he said with a smile. He invoked a minor spell. A voice boomed out, his own greatly magnified, more terrible than thunder. "THIS DAY, ALL LIVES ARE MINE TO REAP! THERE ARE NO GODS, NO PSILORDS, NO DEMONS FROM THE ABYSS HERE TO STOP ME. LET ME SHOW YOU WHY YOUR LORDS FEAR TO FACE ME AND SEND YOU TO DIE IN THEIR STEAD. LET ME SHOW YOU WHY HOPE IS A LIE. FOR I WILL SHOW YOU THE TRUE FACE OF DESPAIR AND THEN YOU WILL DIE!"
The Whirlwind
Moderator: LadyTevar
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Imperial Overlord
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Now this is the part where it really becomes enjoyable. Unless you are on the other side, of course. Then it's just a mix of fear, pain, and death.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
Humans. Your fine with us fighting evil but then you get outraged when we enjoy it. Some things about you I'll never understand.
-Trizkel
The arch-mage silently ascended into the sky, his form invisible to the unaugmented eye and wrapped in a potent shroud of defensive magics. Now was the killing time.
He intoned a spell which rippled through the air, almost invisible. The arch-mage was already sliding to the side, avoiding making himself an easy target. The spell detonated at the rear of the Achenoi formation, blasting apart a ballista and its crew. Normally the spell would create a large explosion, but it had been reshaped and altered my Nalifan's skill. Instead the explosion was small and the vast majority of the force was channelled through into a network of narrow lines, like the web of a spider. Each line intersected with and ballista and there a small explosion bloomed.
Wood cracked and splinted. Metal rang and shivered. Organs were hammered to pulp and bone pulverised. Simultaneously every ballista and its crew died. Mocking laughter came from the sky.
Nalifan unleashed two more spells. Streaks of flame shot from his fingers to burst into ring shaped explosions of blue-white flames. Each spell incinerated scores of archers. The Achenoi continued forward as the drow intoned a spell that caused the earth beneath a ram crew to suck them down.
The archers were almost in range now. He paid them no further mind as he drew forth two slim bone wands, part of the plunder they had taken from the cities that they had conquered. He pointed at one ladder company with the right hand wand and spoke a command word. A streak of fire shot from the wand and detonated. Dark flames consumed the ladder and three score men.
He pointed at another ladder company with the right had wand and invoked its power. A small jade sphere shot from the wand to burst in a cloud of corrosive green mist. Men screamed and died inside it.
Arrows began to fill the air. More than a few fell short. None hit the constantly moving, invisible mage. Nalifan smiled. This was almost too easy.
On the battlements twenty dead soldiers stood stiffly. They drew an arrow from their quiver smoothly and without hurry. With the same calm motion the undead nocked the arrow, drew back their bows, peered down, aimed, and fired upon the archers. Five bowmen went down. With the same methodical motions the undead reloaded and fired again. After the second volley, one of them took an arrow in the throat. The corpse tore it out, nocked the arrow, and fired it back.
Nalifan unleashed another fireball and another blast of acidic mist at the advancing troops. The rams pressed steadily forward in the center and were now nearing the gate. The necromancer uttered the initiators of another spell.
Mist formed in front of the gate and streamed towards the first ram crew, washing over them and obscuring them from sight. The cloud turned from white to deep red and then streamed to the next ram, leaving bone white corpses in its wake. The men on the next ram had just enough time to scream before it rolled over them and drained them. It was noticeably larger now. The men on the third dropped their ram, turned, and ran. They were faster than the cloud.
The drow blasted another two ladder crews with his wands as the vampire cloud continued to attack anyone near it. The undead continued with their monotonous killing of archers as Nalifan sheathed the wands and pulled out a skull with an engraved gold circlet. He tossed the loot at the corpses left by the vampire cloud.
The skull exploded in a flash of violet light just before striking the ground. The clouds victim's twitched and then rose to their feat. They drew their weapons or retrieved them from where they had fallen and advanced upon the closest of the living. Arrows struck them, but they did not fall. They continued to advance and once they reached the living they struck out with little skill and unremarkable speed, but great strength. They did not feel pain. They did not bleed. They did not feel fear. The struck and struck and struck until they were hacked apart or their bones were shattered.
Nalifan spoke another spell, a war spell of the ancient Achenoi. Where the cloud's victim's had fallen a dark mist arose as he bound a portion the slain soul's to work. The cloud congealed into a score of shadowy, man like forms. The spirit host drifted across the ground, looking for lives to end.
The overmasters did not stand by idly as the drow scourged their army. The undead soldiers number in the scores, not the thousands and were of no threat to their army. They sent telepathic instructions to combat the spirit host with fire as the vampire cloud ate its way through their ranks. The overmasters were safely back in the rear, presumably beyond the range of Nalifan's killing sorcery as he was beyond their attacks, but the cloud was considerably closer than the drow.
Bolts of golden light streaked towards it and burst in a shower of crimson light when they struck. The cloud was sundered into a half dozen patches of white mist as the stolen blood fell in a deluge upon the ground. As the cloud died, the first ladder crews reached the wall as the spirit host reached the closest soldiers. Steel slide through their ghostly bodies without harm. Their icy touch killed. Men broke and ran as others behind them frantically tried to make fire.
Nalifan invoked yet another spell and drew forth the wands again. His telekinetic spell seized ladders and pulled them over the wall. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight flew up into the air and over the wall. He gestured with his wands and spoke the command words. Fire and acid blossomed among soldiers and lives were ended.
With the telekinesis spell he pulled another four ladders over the wall as he continued to blast away with the wands and the nineteen still functional deathless archers continued to fire away. As the immediate area of the wall was now clear of climbing gear, the arch-mage uttered another spell and a cloud of poisonous smog materialized nearby and flowed over some doomed soldiers. He invoked another spell, calling forth a similar cloud of acidic mist, and another calling forth a cloud filled with burning embers. They too drifted towards soldiers.
Despite their fear of their masters, the Achenoi near the wall had had enough. Before them they saw only death and they wanted no more of it. They broke. Behind them the spirit host continued to slay men. A few men thrust at them with torches. The spirits hissed in pain at the touch of flame, but they did not fall swiftly to torch blows.
Nalifan plied his wands against those who still stood. Fire and acid clouds burned the flesh off bones and scarred those unfortunate enough to be at the periphery of the destruction. The drow tossed down the depleted fireball wand, letting it tumble to the flagstones. As Nalifan reached into his robe for another arcane instrument horns blew, signalling a withdrawal.
A more generous foe might have permitted them to withdraw with dignity. Nalifan unleashed a deadly rain of ice knives and lashed jagged whips of lightning against those who dawdled and unleashed a volley of fireballs against the largest surviving company, incinerating them in resulting detonations of the meteor swarm. Cruel laughter rang in the survivors ears as the scourging ended.
"WAS THIS YOUR BEST?" Nalifan shouted. "PATHETIC. I WAS JUST GETTING STARTED. COME TO ME AGAIN, THERE IS SO MUCH MORE TO BE DONE. NOT EVEN IN DEATH WILL IT END."
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
Humans. Your fine with us fighting evil but then you get outraged when we enjoy it. Some things about you I'll never understand.
-Trizkel
The arch-mage silently ascended into the sky, his form invisible to the unaugmented eye and wrapped in a potent shroud of defensive magics. Now was the killing time.
He intoned a spell which rippled through the air, almost invisible. The arch-mage was already sliding to the side, avoiding making himself an easy target. The spell detonated at the rear of the Achenoi formation, blasting apart a ballista and its crew. Normally the spell would create a large explosion, but it had been reshaped and altered my Nalifan's skill. Instead the explosion was small and the vast majority of the force was channelled through into a network of narrow lines, like the web of a spider. Each line intersected with and ballista and there a small explosion bloomed.
Wood cracked and splinted. Metal rang and shivered. Organs were hammered to pulp and bone pulverised. Simultaneously every ballista and its crew died. Mocking laughter came from the sky.
Nalifan unleashed two more spells. Streaks of flame shot from his fingers to burst into ring shaped explosions of blue-white flames. Each spell incinerated scores of archers. The Achenoi continued forward as the drow intoned a spell that caused the earth beneath a ram crew to suck them down.
The archers were almost in range now. He paid them no further mind as he drew forth two slim bone wands, part of the plunder they had taken from the cities that they had conquered. He pointed at one ladder company with the right hand wand and spoke a command word. A streak of fire shot from the wand and detonated. Dark flames consumed the ladder and three score men.
He pointed at another ladder company with the right had wand and invoked its power. A small jade sphere shot from the wand to burst in a cloud of corrosive green mist. Men screamed and died inside it.
Arrows began to fill the air. More than a few fell short. None hit the constantly moving, invisible mage. Nalifan smiled. This was almost too easy.
On the battlements twenty dead soldiers stood stiffly. They drew an arrow from their quiver smoothly and without hurry. With the same calm motion the undead nocked the arrow, drew back their bows, peered down, aimed, and fired upon the archers. Five bowmen went down. With the same methodical motions the undead reloaded and fired again. After the second volley, one of them took an arrow in the throat. The corpse tore it out, nocked the arrow, and fired it back.
Nalifan unleashed another fireball and another blast of acidic mist at the advancing troops. The rams pressed steadily forward in the center and were now nearing the gate. The necromancer uttered the initiators of another spell.
Mist formed in front of the gate and streamed towards the first ram crew, washing over them and obscuring them from sight. The cloud turned from white to deep red and then streamed to the next ram, leaving bone white corpses in its wake. The men on the next ram had just enough time to scream before it rolled over them and drained them. It was noticeably larger now. The men on the third dropped their ram, turned, and ran. They were faster than the cloud.
The drow blasted another two ladder crews with his wands as the vampire cloud continued to attack anyone near it. The undead continued with their monotonous killing of archers as Nalifan sheathed the wands and pulled out a skull with an engraved gold circlet. He tossed the loot at the corpses left by the vampire cloud.
The skull exploded in a flash of violet light just before striking the ground. The clouds victim's twitched and then rose to their feat. They drew their weapons or retrieved them from where they had fallen and advanced upon the closest of the living. Arrows struck them, but they did not fall. They continued to advance and once they reached the living they struck out with little skill and unremarkable speed, but great strength. They did not feel pain. They did not bleed. They did not feel fear. The struck and struck and struck until they were hacked apart or their bones were shattered.
Nalifan spoke another spell, a war spell of the ancient Achenoi. Where the cloud's victim's had fallen a dark mist arose as he bound a portion the slain soul's to work. The cloud congealed into a score of shadowy, man like forms. The spirit host drifted across the ground, looking for lives to end.
The overmasters did not stand by idly as the drow scourged their army. The undead soldiers number in the scores, not the thousands and were of no threat to their army. They sent telepathic instructions to combat the spirit host with fire as the vampire cloud ate its way through their ranks. The overmasters were safely back in the rear, presumably beyond the range of Nalifan's killing sorcery as he was beyond their attacks, but the cloud was considerably closer than the drow.
Bolts of golden light streaked towards it and burst in a shower of crimson light when they struck. The cloud was sundered into a half dozen patches of white mist as the stolen blood fell in a deluge upon the ground. As the cloud died, the first ladder crews reached the wall as the spirit host reached the closest soldiers. Steel slide through their ghostly bodies without harm. Their icy touch killed. Men broke and ran as others behind them frantically tried to make fire.
Nalifan invoked yet another spell and drew forth the wands again. His telekinetic spell seized ladders and pulled them over the wall. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight flew up into the air and over the wall. He gestured with his wands and spoke the command words. Fire and acid blossomed among soldiers and lives were ended.
With the telekinesis spell he pulled another four ladders over the wall as he continued to blast away with the wands and the nineteen still functional deathless archers continued to fire away. As the immediate area of the wall was now clear of climbing gear, the arch-mage uttered another spell and a cloud of poisonous smog materialized nearby and flowed over some doomed soldiers. He invoked another spell, calling forth a similar cloud of acidic mist, and another calling forth a cloud filled with burning embers. They too drifted towards soldiers.
Despite their fear of their masters, the Achenoi near the wall had had enough. Before them they saw only death and they wanted no more of it. They broke. Behind them the spirit host continued to slay men. A few men thrust at them with torches. The spirits hissed in pain at the touch of flame, but they did not fall swiftly to torch blows.
Nalifan plied his wands against those who still stood. Fire and acid clouds burned the flesh off bones and scarred those unfortunate enough to be at the periphery of the destruction. The drow tossed down the depleted fireball wand, letting it tumble to the flagstones. As Nalifan reached into his robe for another arcane instrument horns blew, signalling a withdrawal.
A more generous foe might have permitted them to withdraw with dignity. Nalifan unleashed a deadly rain of ice knives and lashed jagged whips of lightning against those who dawdled and unleashed a volley of fireballs against the largest surviving company, incinerating them in resulting detonations of the meteor swarm. Cruel laughter rang in the survivors ears as the scourging ended.
"WAS THIS YOUR BEST?" Nalifan shouted. "PATHETIC. I WAS JUST GETTING STARTED. COME TO ME AGAIN, THERE IS SO MUCH MORE TO BE DONE. NOT EVEN IN DEATH WILL IT END."
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2006-12-29 02:51am, edited 1 time in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Ahh the wonders of psychological warfare 
. I bet that without the tanar'ri army wandering around, Nalifan would have time to make them fear him more than their masters 
.
So Nalifan doesn't have the spells to kill hundreds or thousands in one stroke, but that doesn't mean he cannot kill hundreds or thousands in a few turns
. I bet that without the tanar'ri army wandering around, Nalifan would have time to make them fear him more than their masters .So Nalifan doesn't have the spells to kill hundreds or thousands in one stroke, but that doesn't mean he cannot kill hundreds or thousands in a few turns
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
If you aren't willing to risk bleeding, you're not going to win.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
Of course Nalifan likes grand standing. He's smart enough to do it when its useful, instead of counterproductive.
-Trizkel
"That worked wonderfully," Overmaster Danasto sneered. The tall, dark haired man had a scar under one eye. "We lost a few thousand men for nothing. At this rate they'll eat the entire army up in a month."
"You have a better idea?" asked Kaledast. He was short, stocky and mean. The overmasters were gathered under a grand pavilion that was massively shielded. "You want to be the first one to march out and get killed."
"Two ways we can go," Danasto. "We can either wait here for Zehaneth or we can attack en masse ourselves with our troops."
"Zehaneth will be here soon," said Kaledast. "I say we wait and let the godling eat them. No need to lose anyone of importance. Remember, they brought something through the Greater Ward. They have reinforcements."
A murmer of approval rippled through the two score gathered psilords. "We should follow up right after Zehaneth starts eating one of their livers," said Mehara, a cool, dark haired woman. "That should distract them."
"How about no?" said a little girl who stepped into the tent. "Reports of my demise have been somewhat exaggerated," she giggled. "I have a different idea. Want to hear it?"
"Typhu," said Danasto warily, "we are pleased that you survived, of course," he lied, "but you are perhaps unfamiliar with the current situation."
Typhu smiled. "Would you care to bet on that? Say your life? You win, I slit my throat. I win I slit yours. Sound fair?"
"Typhu," he said nervously, "we're discussing strategy, not playing games."
"Yes, I know. How about this one? We advance with the norms in a line. Some of you will die if they decide to stand and fight, but the rest of us will kill them. This way you'll stop looking like a bunch of impotent weaklings." She smiled sweetly.
"I prefer waiting," said Mehara. "Let the godling do the work."
"I don't," said Typhu. Her eyes shone silver-white. The telekinetic blast smashed through Mehara's defences and denuded her skeleton. Strips of muscles and pieces of organ struck the back of the tent in a spray of blood. The wet skeleton stood for the briefest of moments and then fell to the ground. "Would anyone else like to play it safe? I didn't think so. We've given them too much time. We attack at dawn. And remember, whatever happens, I'll be around to judge you. Sleep well."
----------------------------------------------
The great eagles soared through the air under the early morning sun, lead by Arinyaniquis. They had left the lands of the Achenoi behind them and beneath them lay the cold tundra of the north. The brief summer season still had its hold on the north and the caribou and reindeer travelled in vast herds, stalked by wolves and other predators. Some of those predators walked on two legs.
Arinyaniquis began to descend and the rest of the eagles followed him. Before them lay two dozen tents, the homes of the nomadic hunters as they followed the herds across the plain. Dogs barked excitedly as they drew near and hunters gripped their bows but did not fire. They were wary, but the spirits of the eagle were friends of the people of the north.
Arinyaniquis touched ground and his passengers slid off. The eagle shimmered and vanished, leaving the elf in his place. Several of the hunters smiled. They knew him. "Ice Brother," one called out. "You almost gave us a fright."
"Not my intent Two Blades," said the elf as he approached the burly human. They clasped forearms in greeting. "I need the tribe's help."
"Ice Brother, you know you are our friend and we would gladly help, but there is only so much we can give."
"I know," the elf replied, "and you have the right of it. I will be asking for a lot but it can be spared and you will be paid back three fold within a changing of the moon. I will owe a mighty debt for this help."
"Then we had best speak with the chief."
"How is Tall Dog?"
"The wound healed well. He's leading our hunters today."
"Why are you here? And everyone else?"
"We saw an orc band three days ago."
"I'll see if I can take care of that."
-----------------------------------------------------------
The lid of the sarcophagus opened and Vargo stepped out, naked as the day he was born. A glow globe overhead lit the hidden room, located far from Wulvic. The cerebramancer walked across the plush carpet to the wardrobe and put on a fur lined robe.
The room was stalked with essentials. A chest containing several spell books, money, reagents, and a small stash of useful talisman and psionic devices. Not bad for cheating death, not bad at all.
He pulled the two spellbooks out of the chest and began to force the magics into his brain. He needed to know what was happening in the world before he publicly rejoined it. He had no intention of getting killed a second time if he could avoid it.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
Of course Nalifan likes grand standing. He's smart enough to do it when its useful, instead of counterproductive.
-Trizkel
"That worked wonderfully," Overmaster Danasto sneered. The tall, dark haired man had a scar under one eye. "We lost a few thousand men for nothing. At this rate they'll eat the entire army up in a month."
"You have a better idea?" asked Kaledast. He was short, stocky and mean. The overmasters were gathered under a grand pavilion that was massively shielded. "You want to be the first one to march out and get killed."
"Two ways we can go," Danasto. "We can either wait here for Zehaneth or we can attack en masse ourselves with our troops."
"Zehaneth will be here soon," said Kaledast. "I say we wait and let the godling eat them. No need to lose anyone of importance. Remember, they brought something through the Greater Ward. They have reinforcements."
A murmer of approval rippled through the two score gathered psilords. "We should follow up right after Zehaneth starts eating one of their livers," said Mehara, a cool, dark haired woman. "That should distract them."
"How about no?" said a little girl who stepped into the tent. "Reports of my demise have been somewhat exaggerated," she giggled. "I have a different idea. Want to hear it?"
"Typhu," said Danasto warily, "we are pleased that you survived, of course," he lied, "but you are perhaps unfamiliar with the current situation."
Typhu smiled. "Would you care to bet on that? Say your life? You win, I slit my throat. I win I slit yours. Sound fair?"
"Typhu," he said nervously, "we're discussing strategy, not playing games."
"Yes, I know. How about this one? We advance with the norms in a line. Some of you will die if they decide to stand and fight, but the rest of us will kill them. This way you'll stop looking like a bunch of impotent weaklings." She smiled sweetly.
"I prefer waiting," said Mehara. "Let the godling do the work."
"I don't," said Typhu. Her eyes shone silver-white. The telekinetic blast smashed through Mehara's defences and denuded her skeleton. Strips of muscles and pieces of organ struck the back of the tent in a spray of blood. The wet skeleton stood for the briefest of moments and then fell to the ground. "Would anyone else like to play it safe? I didn't think so. We've given them too much time. We attack at dawn. And remember, whatever happens, I'll be around to judge you. Sleep well."
----------------------------------------------
The great eagles soared through the air under the early morning sun, lead by Arinyaniquis. They had left the lands of the Achenoi behind them and beneath them lay the cold tundra of the north. The brief summer season still had its hold on the north and the caribou and reindeer travelled in vast herds, stalked by wolves and other predators. Some of those predators walked on two legs.
Arinyaniquis began to descend and the rest of the eagles followed him. Before them lay two dozen tents, the homes of the nomadic hunters as they followed the herds across the plain. Dogs barked excitedly as they drew near and hunters gripped their bows but did not fire. They were wary, but the spirits of the eagle were friends of the people of the north.
Arinyaniquis touched ground and his passengers slid off. The eagle shimmered and vanished, leaving the elf in his place. Several of the hunters smiled. They knew him. "Ice Brother," one called out. "You almost gave us a fright."
"Not my intent Two Blades," said the elf as he approached the burly human. They clasped forearms in greeting. "I need the tribe's help."
"Ice Brother, you know you are our friend and we would gladly help, but there is only so much we can give."
"I know," the elf replied, "and you have the right of it. I will be asking for a lot but it can be spared and you will be paid back three fold within a changing of the moon. I will owe a mighty debt for this help."
"Then we had best speak with the chief."
"How is Tall Dog?"
"The wound healed well. He's leading our hunters today."
"Why are you here? And everyone else?"
"We saw an orc band three days ago."
"I'll see if I can take care of that."
-----------------------------------------------------------
The lid of the sarcophagus opened and Vargo stepped out, naked as the day he was born. A glow globe overhead lit the hidden room, located far from Wulvic. The cerebramancer walked across the plush carpet to the wardrobe and put on a fur lined robe.
The room was stalked with essentials. A chest containing several spell books, money, reagents, and a small stash of useful talisman and psionic devices. Not bad for cheating death, not bad at all.
He pulled the two spellbooks out of the chest and began to force the magics into his brain. He needed to know what was happening in the world before he publicly rejoined it. He had no intention of getting killed a second time if he could avoid it.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
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- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
To live in Abier-Toril is to live under one rule: obey or you shall feel my fist. The followers of Bane are naked in their espousal of such a rule, but it applies to all. The gods fear Ao who rules not out of consent of the governed or superior wisdom, but naked might. Mortals that do not worship a god go to the Wall of the Dead, to be eternally interred, or become the prey of fiends. To avoid that fate one must worship a god and to be a god's worshipper is to have your fate after death determined by that being.
Worshippers of the gods of good will undoubtedly pipe up at this point about how worthy their respective lords and ladies and the causes they champion and all that other nonsense. That's irrelevant, although its nice for them that they found an agreeable tyrant because that's what every mortal Toril has to do: choose the divine tyrant they can best live with or ascend to godhood.
So where does this leave us poor mortals? We should look to blind Tyr as our example. Questioning Ao made him a cripple, albeit still a divine one. The current order will stand until overthrone by something powerful enough to break Ao and what comes in its place maybe worse. The first sign Toril has of a reborn Illithid Empire will probably be Illesine eating Ao's brain and I can say with confidence my enjoyment of Ao's death will be short lived. We mortals need to understand this and only this is the highest law: obey or feel my fist. The vaunted gods of good are Ao's obedient dogs and the only care he has for justice is that the portfolio be filled.
So choose your god carefully. Be respectful of your betters. Crush your enemies. And never succumb to the delusion that the universe works according to any high minded moral philosophy you happen to cling to.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
The peach light of false dawn was creeping over the sky when the sky flashed red and thunder rolled over the earth. The psilords stirred uneasily. The Greater Ward had been violated again, as it had yesterday. What new horror was the elf wizard summoning to greet them? They did not for a moment consider that someone else might be behind it. Who else could it possibly be?
The sun had risen over the horizon by the time the army was on the march. More than fifteen thousand men marched forward, driven forward by the psilords and mindknights in their midst. Above them floated more psilords and around them wheeled wyvern riding mindknights. Psionic shields and energized devices protected them. Nothing escaped their gaze. Even the birds were scrutinized to see if they were one of the outworlders in disguise.
No killing spells or violent sorceries were cast. No arrows fell from incredible range. There was, in fact, no sign of their prey at all. The absence of attacks worried them, but they continued their advance.
Arrows began to fall from the battlements as the undead archers loosed. Pyrokinetic blasts and telekinetic hammers smashed the battlements, incinerating undead flesh and sending body parts and chunks of stone flying through the air. The overmasters braced themselves for a vicious counter attack. None came.
Great energies were gathered and unleashed. A column of telekinetic force, visible only a distortion in the air, smashed through the wall that had been erected in the gatehouse. Bolts and blasts shattered stone and cratered the city walls. It took less than a minute for the wall to crumble in two sections, forming rubble filled breaches. And still nothing came.
The wyverns wheeled over the city and the soldiers began climbing through the breeches. Typhu lead the way, a hellish little girl flying over the city walls towards the battered citadel. The overmaster was beyond angry and was now at a boiling range. He floated over the citadel walls, his senses projecting even through stone walls. Nothing could hide from him. His vision could pierce any illusion, penetrate any barrier, and discern the truth through any disguise. Not even shapechanging could fool him. And he found nothing. Nothing!
He screamed into the sky, an incoherent cry full of rage and frustration. The psychic call he sent out was even more potent and terrible. "FIND THEM! KILL THEM! NOW!"
--------------------------------------------------------
Tall Dog wasn't skinny although he looked it, an optical illusion produced by his height. The chief of the Inkari was closer to seven feet and six and still strong as he neared his fortieth year. "Ice Brother," he called out as he lead his warriors back to camp. "We haven't seen you since the beginning of summer and now you come with mighty host of your people."
"Tall Dog, you look well."
The chief's eyes narrowed. "I am well." He had not forgotten the favor he owed Arinyaniquis, but he had more than a suspicion that the elf was going to ask a very large one in return.
"Mighty chief, I need your aid."
"Speak."
"I need winter furs and food for all of these here. The furs will be returned within a change of the moon and the food in a like amount of time. All debts are paid and we will owe you mighty boon as well."
"There fifty of you," said the chief. "We cannot easily spare food for fifty."
"Just for three days," said the elf. "And I will dispose of the orcs. All the loot will be yours." Not much of what an orc owned was coveted by humans, except steel. For all their crude brutality, more than a few orcs had a knack for forging metals. Steel weapons and armour combined with their brute strength, blood thirst, and cunning made them more than an even match in pitched battles.
"You will kill them all? And leave all the steel to us?" Some of the northern peoples were good smiths, but the Inkari were not among their number.
"Yes, and I will owe you a great debt." Fifty precious lives in a world teaming with millions, but only three hundred odd more elves.
Worshippers of the gods of good will undoubtedly pipe up at this point about how worthy their respective lords and ladies and the causes they champion and all that other nonsense. That's irrelevant, although its nice for them that they found an agreeable tyrant because that's what every mortal Toril has to do: choose the divine tyrant they can best live with or ascend to godhood.
So where does this leave us poor mortals? We should look to blind Tyr as our example. Questioning Ao made him a cripple, albeit still a divine one. The current order will stand until overthrone by something powerful enough to break Ao and what comes in its place maybe worse. The first sign Toril has of a reborn Illithid Empire will probably be Illesine eating Ao's brain and I can say with confidence my enjoyment of Ao's death will be short lived. We mortals need to understand this and only this is the highest law: obey or feel my fist. The vaunted gods of good are Ao's obedient dogs and the only care he has for justice is that the portfolio be filled.
So choose your god carefully. Be respectful of your betters. Crush your enemies. And never succumb to the delusion that the universe works according to any high minded moral philosophy you happen to cling to.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
The peach light of false dawn was creeping over the sky when the sky flashed red and thunder rolled over the earth. The psilords stirred uneasily. The Greater Ward had been violated again, as it had yesterday. What new horror was the elf wizard summoning to greet them? They did not for a moment consider that someone else might be behind it. Who else could it possibly be?
The sun had risen over the horizon by the time the army was on the march. More than fifteen thousand men marched forward, driven forward by the psilords and mindknights in their midst. Above them floated more psilords and around them wheeled wyvern riding mindknights. Psionic shields and energized devices protected them. Nothing escaped their gaze. Even the birds were scrutinized to see if they were one of the outworlders in disguise.
No killing spells or violent sorceries were cast. No arrows fell from incredible range. There was, in fact, no sign of their prey at all. The absence of attacks worried them, but they continued their advance.
Arrows began to fall from the battlements as the undead archers loosed. Pyrokinetic blasts and telekinetic hammers smashed the battlements, incinerating undead flesh and sending body parts and chunks of stone flying through the air. The overmasters braced themselves for a vicious counter attack. None came.
Great energies were gathered and unleashed. A column of telekinetic force, visible only a distortion in the air, smashed through the wall that had been erected in the gatehouse. Bolts and blasts shattered stone and cratered the city walls. It took less than a minute for the wall to crumble in two sections, forming rubble filled breaches. And still nothing came.
The wyverns wheeled over the city and the soldiers began climbing through the breeches. Typhu lead the way, a hellish little girl flying over the city walls towards the battered citadel. The overmaster was beyond angry and was now at a boiling range. He floated over the citadel walls, his senses projecting even through stone walls. Nothing could hide from him. His vision could pierce any illusion, penetrate any barrier, and discern the truth through any disguise. Not even shapechanging could fool him. And he found nothing. Nothing!
He screamed into the sky, an incoherent cry full of rage and frustration. The psychic call he sent out was even more potent and terrible. "FIND THEM! KILL THEM! NOW!"
--------------------------------------------------------
Tall Dog wasn't skinny although he looked it, an optical illusion produced by his height. The chief of the Inkari was closer to seven feet and six and still strong as he neared his fortieth year. "Ice Brother," he called out as he lead his warriors back to camp. "We haven't seen you since the beginning of summer and now you come with mighty host of your people."
"Tall Dog, you look well."
The chief's eyes narrowed. "I am well." He had not forgotten the favor he owed Arinyaniquis, but he had more than a suspicion that the elf was going to ask a very large one in return.
"Mighty chief, I need your aid."
"Speak."
"I need winter furs and food for all of these here. The furs will be returned within a change of the moon and the food in a like amount of time. All debts are paid and we will owe you mighty boon as well."
"There fifty of you," said the chief. "We cannot easily spare food for fifty."
"Just for three days," said the elf. "And I will dispose of the orcs. All the loot will be yours." Not much of what an orc owned was coveted by humans, except steel. For all their crude brutality, more than a few orcs had a knack for forging metals. Steel weapons and armour combined with their brute strength, blood thirst, and cunning made them more than an even match in pitched battles.
"You will kill them all? And leave all the steel to us?" Some of the northern peoples were good smiths, but the Inkari were not among their number.
"Yes, and I will owe you a great debt." Fifty precious lives in a world teaming with millions, but only three hundred odd more elves.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Nalifan can be a pleasant companion, but the constant cynicism can be a little wearying. The man simply doesn't grasp the power of dreams and what can be accomplished by striving towards what some say is impossible.
-Kaeryn, in conversation with a student
Surface dwellers are odd. It's not their fault, they're a product of the their environment where food and water, even is supposedly barren desert regions, are easy to get. They also almost never have to deal with something bursting through a cavern wall, floor, or ceiling to attack, although admittedly they do have that whole sky business to deal with. This leaves them with a number of blind spots.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in conversation with his friends
Arinyaniquis stood alone amongst the dead. Ice shards had struck with enough force to slice through orc armour and flesh and icy chill of his frost magics had killed almost instantly. The whole camp had perished without being able to produce anything close to a fight.
Frozen grass crunched under his boots as he stepped over the body of and orc child. Their races were ancient enemies, if the histories were accurate, with the orc gods seeding every elven world with their own spawn to perpetuate the war. Now elves were all but gone from this world and there were only humans left to fight, aside from each other. That they did with great enthusiasm.
Ravens descended from the skies. They ignored the frozen bodies in favor of the warmer ones slain by shards of jagged ice. They dipped their beaks in jagged wounds and into staring dead eyes as they fished around for the finest morsels. Arinyaniquis turned away from the carnage he had caused and began to walk back to the human's camp.
Ahead of him a crow hopped on the grass and cawed. Its outline blurred and reformed into that of a blonde elf woman a hair shorter than Arinyaniquis. She was sword blade slim and wore snow white outer tunic, cloak, and breeches. A sword hung on her waist and the ends of her hair brushed against her collar.
"I assume we know each other," Arinyaniquis said.
"You could say that," she said with a smile. "It's good to see you again. Especially since you brought back kin."
"You are here to guide us home, I take it?"
"Yes," she said. She tossed a green gem at him. He caught it easily. He held up the stone and gazed into its depths. He remembered running around trees with other children under a dome of ice. He remembered losing archery contests and laughing as he dueled his age mates and long hours spent studying in cozy libraries. He remembered the warmth of his family and the heat of his lovers' embrace. Everything came back.
"We need to get them back to Elenthenian and then you and the elders need to talk," Leshanna said.
--------------------------------------------------------
The floor of the grove was mostly overgrown with moss and vines that clung to the ancient rubble. Once the elves had built something here out of stone, but that was long ago and it had now fallen into ruin and been reclaimed by the forest. The elves would not have mourned that fate. It was fitting that nature reclaimed the dead.
A clump of moss covered rubble was illuminated by an emerald glow and then vanished, leaving a hole in the earth. An armoured nightmare floated out of that hole. A sphere six feet across and covered with blue-grey armoured plates ascended from the tunnel. A single eye, slitted like a cat's, glared above a fang filled maw. A crown of ten eye tipped tentacles writhed on top of the sphere.
Trizkel followed the beholder out of the hole and Mikos followed. Sylvetria followed the ranger. Weapons were in their hands as they scanned the forest for foes. The beholder shimmered and shrunk and their stood Nalifan. "I told you easy. The might be watching the sky above, but not the underground beneath."
"To bad we left the horses behind," Sylvetria said. "Very peaceful here though."
"Where to now?" Trizkel asked.
"Their capital. Neridian."
"Is that wise?" Sylvetria asked.
"As long as they've got all their heavy hitters here, sifting through rubble, and trying to find us? I think its the best possible time for a visit."
"They won't stay here forever," said Sylvetria. "And we're on foot."
"Well, I do have a solution for that little problem. As soon as we have gotten some more distance from their eyes in the sky."
"Sounds good," said Mikos. "Let's get moving."
-Kaeryn, in conversation with a student
Surface dwellers are odd. It's not their fault, they're a product of the their environment where food and water, even is supposedly barren desert regions, are easy to get. They also almost never have to deal with something bursting through a cavern wall, floor, or ceiling to attack, although admittedly they do have that whole sky business to deal with. This leaves them with a number of blind spots.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in conversation with his friends
Arinyaniquis stood alone amongst the dead. Ice shards had struck with enough force to slice through orc armour and flesh and icy chill of his frost magics had killed almost instantly. The whole camp had perished without being able to produce anything close to a fight.
Frozen grass crunched under his boots as he stepped over the body of and orc child. Their races were ancient enemies, if the histories were accurate, with the orc gods seeding every elven world with their own spawn to perpetuate the war. Now elves were all but gone from this world and there were only humans left to fight, aside from each other. That they did with great enthusiasm.
Ravens descended from the skies. They ignored the frozen bodies in favor of the warmer ones slain by shards of jagged ice. They dipped their beaks in jagged wounds and into staring dead eyes as they fished around for the finest morsels. Arinyaniquis turned away from the carnage he had caused and began to walk back to the human's camp.
Ahead of him a crow hopped on the grass and cawed. Its outline blurred and reformed into that of a blonde elf woman a hair shorter than Arinyaniquis. She was sword blade slim and wore snow white outer tunic, cloak, and breeches. A sword hung on her waist and the ends of her hair brushed against her collar.
"I assume we know each other," Arinyaniquis said.
"You could say that," she said with a smile. "It's good to see you again. Especially since you brought back kin."
"You are here to guide us home, I take it?"
"Yes," she said. She tossed a green gem at him. He caught it easily. He held up the stone and gazed into its depths. He remembered running around trees with other children under a dome of ice. He remembered losing archery contests and laughing as he dueled his age mates and long hours spent studying in cozy libraries. He remembered the warmth of his family and the heat of his lovers' embrace. Everything came back.
"We need to get them back to Elenthenian and then you and the elders need to talk," Leshanna said.
--------------------------------------------------------
The floor of the grove was mostly overgrown with moss and vines that clung to the ancient rubble. Once the elves had built something here out of stone, but that was long ago and it had now fallen into ruin and been reclaimed by the forest. The elves would not have mourned that fate. It was fitting that nature reclaimed the dead.
A clump of moss covered rubble was illuminated by an emerald glow and then vanished, leaving a hole in the earth. An armoured nightmare floated out of that hole. A sphere six feet across and covered with blue-grey armoured plates ascended from the tunnel. A single eye, slitted like a cat's, glared above a fang filled maw. A crown of ten eye tipped tentacles writhed on top of the sphere.
Trizkel followed the beholder out of the hole and Mikos followed. Sylvetria followed the ranger. Weapons were in their hands as they scanned the forest for foes. The beholder shimmered and shrunk and their stood Nalifan. "I told you easy. The might be watching the sky above, but not the underground beneath."
"To bad we left the horses behind," Sylvetria said. "Very peaceful here though."
"Where to now?" Trizkel asked.
"Their capital. Neridian."
"Is that wise?" Sylvetria asked.
"As long as they've got all their heavy hitters here, sifting through rubble, and trying to find us? I think its the best possible time for a visit."
"They won't stay here forever," said Sylvetria. "And we're on foot."
"Well, I do have a solution for that little problem. As soon as we have gotten some more distance from their eyes in the sky."
"Sounds good," said Mikos. "Let's get moving."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
One can come to battle in a wide variety of surroundings and conditions. The question arises, of all the magics that have been devised in all the millenia of civilization on Faerun, which ones should the wise war mage employ? There are those who favor spells that isolate or restrict one's enemies or rearrange the terrain in the mage's favor.
Strong points can be made in favor of the strategy of battlefield control. How can one criticize placing one's opponents at a disadvantage? Easily, of course. What is the purpose of war? To destroy one's enemies. Why let your foe live and fight and perhaps alter the situation to favor him when you can strike him down directly?
Why when that is the best choice, of course. A wise man, whether wizard or warrior, makes use of whatever advantages present themselves but one must not forget the purpose is not to seize advantage, but to kill. Battlefield control is thus revealled to be the preferred approach of those magic workers cannot swiftly inflict devastating injuries upon their foes. In other words, it is the tactic of the weak.
I abhor weakness. The battle field is controlled when all my foes are dead, preferably while still reaching for their weapons or with the words of their first spell frozen on their dead lips. They tend to be less troublesome that way.
As an aside, a glass dragon falling through the air is truly one of the most beautiful sights one can ever see.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in response to a criticism that his tactics lacked subtlety and effectiveness.
Some problems are nails. For those you shouldn't fuck around and just hit them with a gods damned hammer.
-Trizkel, restating Nalifan's point with considerably greater brevity.
Half stunned elves accepted the embraces of their northern kin as the people of Elenthenian made their kin welcome. The entire city, nearly four hundred people, had shown up to greet them. The wrapped the former slaves in long coats and took them into the pale halls of Elenthenian for food and shelter.
Arinyaniquis watched the reunion with a wry smile. Yanara looked over at him and gave him a wry smile. Leshanna tapped him on the shoulder. "They want to speak with you."
He nodded and followed her through he streets to the grove of the elders. It was funny, seeing his people again and noting how pale they were in comparison to the refugees. The elders sat serenely around the giant stump. "You have brought some of our lost kin back to us," said Endire, as pale as frost with eyes like blue ice. "Did you leave any clue as your identity while in the south."
"Yes," said Arinyaniquis. "There was much chaos, but we were seen in bird form heading north."
"So they may not have recognized you?" said Shehala.
"I doubt they did. They were focused on the outlanders but when they are gone and they think of where the elves went, they will look north."
"But will they look far enough and deeply enough?" asked Marinsena, an ancient crone in white robes. "We are deep in the realm of chill, buried in the heart of a great glacier and shielded from their powers. To find us, they will have to come here and lay eyes upon us."
"We should take precautions," said Arinyaniquis. "They have been dealt heavy blows, but they are far from beaten. They will want an ocean of blood for this."
The elders exchanged glances. "They have already been taken. Tell us of the strangers."
"Two are humans, the other two are dhaerow." There was a collective intake of breath. "They claim their entire race was cursed and outcast and they aren't as bad as I feared."
"Your observations?" asked Endire.
"They are ruthless killers. One of them was completely seriously injured and still utterly lethal. They worked as a team and the dhaerow were clearly in charge but the humans were not thralls. I think they were truthful. They serve their own interests, which in Wulvic coincided with ours. They will not be content to leave until they have made the overmasters howl, but this in not their world."
"Half measures," said Endire.
"Excuse me elder, I do not understand," said Arinyaniquis.
"Half measures never succeed," he clarified.
"You over reach yourself Endire," said Farendil, speaking for the first time. Snow white hair hung half way down his back. The magic that had held back aging was beginning to fail, but only the faintest of lines touched his face.
"I dare to imagine victory," said Endire. "An end to cowering in fear. An end to tyranny and the beginning of justice. If that is over reaching, I am guilty."
"We shall consider this matter," said Farendil. He gestured to Arinyaniquis and Leshanna. "You may leave us."
----------------------------------------------------
The next night four grey owls rose from the Forest of Wulvic and flew west, towards the heart of the Achenoi Empire. Towards Neridian.
They did not go unobserved. Fiendish eyes easily pierced darkness that was opaque to humans. Four owls flying at once was unusual. Four owls that could not be seeing with scrying magic were not owls.
Gutweaver, shapeshifted into the form of a bat, shifted his footing on the tree branch. He had awaited them on the edge of the forest, hiding himself from all means of detection. Considerable thought had gone into choosing the location of his perch. If the outworlders remained inside the fortress the overmasters would come to grips with them with all their numbers. If they fled they would want the cover of the woods. Being too close to army would heighten their chances of detection so he perched here, waiting for them to come. As did his less than joyful minions.
The summoning magic that had brought both balors and nalfeshnees to his side was strong enough to break through the Great Ward, but it faded after an hour or so. Normally that would mean that they would return to their own domains, but the Great Ward prevented that occurrence. For as long as the Ward existed, they were trapped here.
Gutweaver sent orders to the minds of his minions. "Go to them. Harry them. We drive them down and to us. We shall close on them like the jaws of a dragon."
The mighty bat winged balors howled their agreement and their range. Demons of fire and terror, they resented being held in bondage by the klurichir, but feared his terrible power. The monstrous beings rose up from the woods on the beats of mighty wings.
The ape-boar nalfeshnees, with their massive bodies and tiny wings should not have been able to fly but their magic solved that problem. They rose clumsily into the air after the balors. Gutweaver watched them go and then resumed his natural form. The immense four armed demon spread his own wings and joined his minion in pursuit.
Strong points can be made in favor of the strategy of battlefield control. How can one criticize placing one's opponents at a disadvantage? Easily, of course. What is the purpose of war? To destroy one's enemies. Why let your foe live and fight and perhaps alter the situation to favor him when you can strike him down directly?
Why when that is the best choice, of course. A wise man, whether wizard or warrior, makes use of whatever advantages present themselves but one must not forget the purpose is not to seize advantage, but to kill. Battlefield control is thus revealled to be the preferred approach of those magic workers cannot swiftly inflict devastating injuries upon their foes. In other words, it is the tactic of the weak.
I abhor weakness. The battle field is controlled when all my foes are dead, preferably while still reaching for their weapons or with the words of their first spell frozen on their dead lips. They tend to be less troublesome that way.
As an aside, a glass dragon falling through the air is truly one of the most beautiful sights one can ever see.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in response to a criticism that his tactics lacked subtlety and effectiveness.
Some problems are nails. For those you shouldn't fuck around and just hit them with a gods damned hammer.
-Trizkel, restating Nalifan's point with considerably greater brevity.
Half stunned elves accepted the embraces of their northern kin as the people of Elenthenian made their kin welcome. The entire city, nearly four hundred people, had shown up to greet them. The wrapped the former slaves in long coats and took them into the pale halls of Elenthenian for food and shelter.
Arinyaniquis watched the reunion with a wry smile. Yanara looked over at him and gave him a wry smile. Leshanna tapped him on the shoulder. "They want to speak with you."
He nodded and followed her through he streets to the grove of the elders. It was funny, seeing his people again and noting how pale they were in comparison to the refugees. The elders sat serenely around the giant stump. "You have brought some of our lost kin back to us," said Endire, as pale as frost with eyes like blue ice. "Did you leave any clue as your identity while in the south."
"Yes," said Arinyaniquis. "There was much chaos, but we were seen in bird form heading north."
"So they may not have recognized you?" said Shehala.
"I doubt they did. They were focused on the outlanders but when they are gone and they think of where the elves went, they will look north."
"But will they look far enough and deeply enough?" asked Marinsena, an ancient crone in white robes. "We are deep in the realm of chill, buried in the heart of a great glacier and shielded from their powers. To find us, they will have to come here and lay eyes upon us."
"We should take precautions," said Arinyaniquis. "They have been dealt heavy blows, but they are far from beaten. They will want an ocean of blood for this."
The elders exchanged glances. "They have already been taken. Tell us of the strangers."
"Two are humans, the other two are dhaerow." There was a collective intake of breath. "They claim their entire race was cursed and outcast and they aren't as bad as I feared."
"Your observations?" asked Endire.
"They are ruthless killers. One of them was completely seriously injured and still utterly lethal. They worked as a team and the dhaerow were clearly in charge but the humans were not thralls. I think they were truthful. They serve their own interests, which in Wulvic coincided with ours. They will not be content to leave until they have made the overmasters howl, but this in not their world."
"Half measures," said Endire.
"Excuse me elder, I do not understand," said Arinyaniquis.
"Half measures never succeed," he clarified.
"You over reach yourself Endire," said Farendil, speaking for the first time. Snow white hair hung half way down his back. The magic that had held back aging was beginning to fail, but only the faintest of lines touched his face.
"I dare to imagine victory," said Endire. "An end to cowering in fear. An end to tyranny and the beginning of justice. If that is over reaching, I am guilty."
"We shall consider this matter," said Farendil. He gestured to Arinyaniquis and Leshanna. "You may leave us."
----------------------------------------------------
The next night four grey owls rose from the Forest of Wulvic and flew west, towards the heart of the Achenoi Empire. Towards Neridian.
They did not go unobserved. Fiendish eyes easily pierced darkness that was opaque to humans. Four owls flying at once was unusual. Four owls that could not be seeing with scrying magic were not owls.
Gutweaver, shapeshifted into the form of a bat, shifted his footing on the tree branch. He had awaited them on the edge of the forest, hiding himself from all means of detection. Considerable thought had gone into choosing the location of his perch. If the outworlders remained inside the fortress the overmasters would come to grips with them with all their numbers. If they fled they would want the cover of the woods. Being too close to army would heighten their chances of detection so he perched here, waiting for them to come. As did his less than joyful minions.
The summoning magic that had brought both balors and nalfeshnees to his side was strong enough to break through the Great Ward, but it faded after an hour or so. Normally that would mean that they would return to their own domains, but the Great Ward prevented that occurrence. For as long as the Ward existed, they were trapped here.
Gutweaver sent orders to the minds of his minions. "Go to them. Harry them. We drive them down and to us. We shall close on them like the jaws of a dragon."
The mighty bat winged balors howled their agreement and their range. Demons of fire and terror, they resented being held in bondage by the klurichir, but feared his terrible power. The monstrous beings rose up from the woods on the beats of mighty wings.
The ape-boar nalfeshnees, with their massive bodies and tiny wings should not have been able to fly but their magic solved that problem. They rose clumsily into the air after the balors. Gutweaver watched them go and then resumed his natural form. The immense four armed demon spread his own wings and joined his minion in pursuit.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
One thing to remember about Nalifan is that despite his mastery of the art, he is still quite young. He is prone to impatience, to direct, brute force solutions, skeptical of the wisdom of the gods and the elders, and to simple solutions where complex ones might work better. Intellectually, he recognizes this and the weaknesses that can come of them, but emotionally these are answers he prefers. Unlike like most young men, he has enormous power with which to indulge his desires and this makes him very dangerous.
In a hundred years or so he will have settled down and cold reason will rule him absolutely, with only the flicker of emotional heat. Then he will truly become the paragon of magical might and skill he believes himself to be. Before then, the path of his life needs to be altered or shortened, for the sake of all who live in this world and any others he can reach.
-Kaeryn, speaking at a private conclave.
The owls continued to head west as the demons gained on them from behind. The mighty balors rose above the owls, slowly moving into position where they could swoop down on them from above and behind. Despite their advantages of position and darkness, their approach was not unobserved.
One owl bore a headpiece of mithril and ruby that covered an eye and a quarter of his head. Nothing was hidden from his sight. Nalifan, Trizkel sent telepathically, we have company. Two balors moving up on us from above, three other demons trailing.
How fast are they gaining? Nalifan sent.
Not very, Trizkel replied.
Then we just need to drag them a little further away from the army so they don't see the light show, replied Nalifan.
Baator's Hells, replied Trizkel, I can barely see the army from here.
Yes, but they're not exploding, sent Nalifan. But point taken. Not much further now. The owl arch-mage beat his wings several more times and extended them to glide. A shimmering ran over his form and Nalifan was once again in his true form, falling from the air. He intoned a short phrase and he was flying again, albeit slower than he had been as an owl, facing the demons and drifting backwards in a generally westerly direction.
The drow shouted at challenge in the grating and terrible tongue of Abyssal, the language of demons. Sylvetria and Mikos shuddered to hear those words, even if they could not understand those abominable words. "Come here and face me," Nalifan taunted in the demon tongue, using the intonations of disdain. "Come and taste pain before I end you."
The balors roared in response. Their words promised suffering beyond comprehension or even a saint's endurance and on those promises they could deliver. Fires ignited on their great bodies as they swooped down towards him. They could have unleashed terrible powers of rending and destruction instead, but they knew such abilities would likely fail against the defences of a drow arch-mage. No defence would save him from flaming whips and swords of tainted steel and impregnated with unholy might.
Nalifan shouted the initiators of a spell and an emerald glow enveloped the closest balor. Dark red flesh turned to transparent glass and the fragile statue plummeted through the air. The other balor snarled and then screamed as arrows struck him, two high in the chest and the third in his belly. Behind Nalifan Mikos had resumed his human form and hovered, suspended in the air by magic looted from the overmasters.
Black blood, smoking and hissing, bubbled up from the wounds but the demon did not change course. He swooped towards Nalifan and the whip of spikes and flames struck the mage, binding his arms. The spikes couldn't pierce Nalifan's spell shields and one of his rings still shielded him from fire, but the whip was still binding. He was dragged away by and swooping balor who drew him in close to his seathing body flames.
Nalifan's ring continued to protect from the flames and he was too close for the balor to use his massive and cursed sword to full effect, which meant his protections would probably hold. Beneath him, the glass statue of the other balor struck the earth.
Light. Blazing, searing, all consuming garish yellow light erupted the moment the statue shattered. The earth around it was melted and fused, the grass blown to ash. No one, even people miles away, looking in that direction could have possibly missed it. To those struggling in the sky it was a footnote on the fate of a participant already defeated. To the distant army, it was too far away to see. To another hunter on the ground and in the sky, it was a beacon.
The balor had no intention of letting the drow wriggle free or escape his grasp. His sword was of no use in this situation so he left it drop and drew the arch-necromancer towards his tusk filled maw with his free talon. Nalifan got a hand free and braced himself against the demon's lower jaw. The drow's magically augmented strength was enormous. He could tear a man's limbs off or fell an ogre with his bare hands. The fiend was stronger.
As Nalifan was drawn struggling towards the balor's maw Trizkel, still in owl form, swooped down upon the demon and then shifted back into his own shape. He fell upon the demon's burning back and gripped one of the balor's spine spikes. The flames nipped at his flesh, but he was shielded from the unholy flames, at least temporarily.
The drow drove Mind Eater through the balor's right shoulder and out the front. Black blood streamed from the wound and the demon howled. With its right arm weakened, Nalifan was able to hold himself away from those terrible jaws. Trizkel jabbed the black crystal blade through the demon's left shoulder and it howled again. Its' grip slackened. Trizkel stabbed it in the wing joint and Nalifan kicked free of the falling demon. The drow ascended away from the balor as it beat the air with its' wings, arresting its tumble.
Two arrows streaked down as the drow flew up. One struck the balor in the muzzle and pierced its upper jaw. The other hit the mighty demon between its eyes and continued a whole foot into its skull. The demon's wings faltered and then another blast of infernal light lit the sky.
"Nice shooting," said Nalifan.
"Anytime," said Mikos. "Was a bit tricky timing it so you would be outside the explosion when I killed it."
"Your artistry is appreciated."
"The others are breaking off," said Trizkel, peering into the night sky. "Guess they don't like the odds with the balors gone. "One of them is quite odd."
"Really?" said Nalifan. "How so?"
"Four arms and wings."
The arch-necromancer thought for a moment. "Pinchers and a second maw in its stomach."
"Too far to be sure, but yeah there was something odd with its lower torso. What is it?"
"A kluricher," said Nalifan. "They tend to be independent lordlings or powerful lieutenants to demon lords. They rival the power of even the balors." His eyes widened. "And they tend to be powerful summoners. He brought help across the Greater Ward. Someone is a fool to choose that demon as instrument on this world of all places." He paused for a moment. "A fool or dangerously clever."
--------------------------------------------------
"Dear brother," Enalisiquis said as she embraced Arinyaniqus, "it is good to see you again."
He hugged his older sister back. They looked much alike, the male and female version of the same being it was sometimes joked. At the moment the contrast between his travelling furs and leathers and her silver gown and cobalt cloak did make telling them apart quite easy."I'm not gone that often."
"You're not here that often either," she said. "Always travelling or preparing for your next venture or studying more magic." She walked slowly away from the elder's grove and he followed her at a leisurely pace through the city's tree lined streets.
"There is some truth to that," he admitted. "It is always good to see you again."
"I'm not the only one that misses you."
"Father does not approve. I will not yield. Therefore, I see them infrequently and discuss other things. That way harmony is maintained."
"Just so," she said. "But perhaps what you have accomplished will change his mind." She paused at the door of a two story long house of white wood.
"It will not. He will merely say that I have endangered us all with my rash actions. His argument will not be entirely without merit."
"You're worried?" she asked.
"I have seen enough of the overmasters power and their evil to know that worrying is very sensible," he said. "When these outlanders are finished ripping into them, they will no longer be self-indulgent tyrants happily sunning themselves on warm rocks. The survivors will be angry and bloodthirsty. They may stir themselves to go north."
"That is unsettling," she admitted. "You will join us for dinner?"
"Of course," he agreed easily. "I will behave, I promise."
"I will hold you to it," she said laughing. "'ware the stormcrow," she said.
Endire was eating up the distance to Enalisquis's house with swift strides. That was quick, Arinyaniquis though to himself. "Elder," he said bowing fractionally.
"We have matters to discuss," said the ice eyed elf.
In a hundred years or so he will have settled down and cold reason will rule him absolutely, with only the flicker of emotional heat. Then he will truly become the paragon of magical might and skill he believes himself to be. Before then, the path of his life needs to be altered or shortened, for the sake of all who live in this world and any others he can reach.
-Kaeryn, speaking at a private conclave.
The owls continued to head west as the demons gained on them from behind. The mighty balors rose above the owls, slowly moving into position where they could swoop down on them from above and behind. Despite their advantages of position and darkness, their approach was not unobserved.
One owl bore a headpiece of mithril and ruby that covered an eye and a quarter of his head. Nothing was hidden from his sight. Nalifan, Trizkel sent telepathically, we have company. Two balors moving up on us from above, three other demons trailing.
How fast are they gaining? Nalifan sent.
Not very, Trizkel replied.
Then we just need to drag them a little further away from the army so they don't see the light show, replied Nalifan.
Baator's Hells, replied Trizkel, I can barely see the army from here.
Yes, but they're not exploding, sent Nalifan. But point taken. Not much further now. The owl arch-mage beat his wings several more times and extended them to glide. A shimmering ran over his form and Nalifan was once again in his true form, falling from the air. He intoned a short phrase and he was flying again, albeit slower than he had been as an owl, facing the demons and drifting backwards in a generally westerly direction.
The drow shouted at challenge in the grating and terrible tongue of Abyssal, the language of demons. Sylvetria and Mikos shuddered to hear those words, even if they could not understand those abominable words. "Come here and face me," Nalifan taunted in the demon tongue, using the intonations of disdain. "Come and taste pain before I end you."
The balors roared in response. Their words promised suffering beyond comprehension or even a saint's endurance and on those promises they could deliver. Fires ignited on their great bodies as they swooped down towards him. They could have unleashed terrible powers of rending and destruction instead, but they knew such abilities would likely fail against the defences of a drow arch-mage. No defence would save him from flaming whips and swords of tainted steel and impregnated with unholy might.
Nalifan shouted the initiators of a spell and an emerald glow enveloped the closest balor. Dark red flesh turned to transparent glass and the fragile statue plummeted through the air. The other balor snarled and then screamed as arrows struck him, two high in the chest and the third in his belly. Behind Nalifan Mikos had resumed his human form and hovered, suspended in the air by magic looted from the overmasters.
Black blood, smoking and hissing, bubbled up from the wounds but the demon did not change course. He swooped towards Nalifan and the whip of spikes and flames struck the mage, binding his arms. The spikes couldn't pierce Nalifan's spell shields and one of his rings still shielded him from fire, but the whip was still binding. He was dragged away by and swooping balor who drew him in close to his seathing body flames.
Nalifan's ring continued to protect from the flames and he was too close for the balor to use his massive and cursed sword to full effect, which meant his protections would probably hold. Beneath him, the glass statue of the other balor struck the earth.
Light. Blazing, searing, all consuming garish yellow light erupted the moment the statue shattered. The earth around it was melted and fused, the grass blown to ash. No one, even people miles away, looking in that direction could have possibly missed it. To those struggling in the sky it was a footnote on the fate of a participant already defeated. To the distant army, it was too far away to see. To another hunter on the ground and in the sky, it was a beacon.
The balor had no intention of letting the drow wriggle free or escape his grasp. His sword was of no use in this situation so he left it drop and drew the arch-necromancer towards his tusk filled maw with his free talon. Nalifan got a hand free and braced himself against the demon's lower jaw. The drow's magically augmented strength was enormous. He could tear a man's limbs off or fell an ogre with his bare hands. The fiend was stronger.
As Nalifan was drawn struggling towards the balor's maw Trizkel, still in owl form, swooped down upon the demon and then shifted back into his own shape. He fell upon the demon's burning back and gripped one of the balor's spine spikes. The flames nipped at his flesh, but he was shielded from the unholy flames, at least temporarily.
The drow drove Mind Eater through the balor's right shoulder and out the front. Black blood streamed from the wound and the demon howled. With its right arm weakened, Nalifan was able to hold himself away from those terrible jaws. Trizkel jabbed the black crystal blade through the demon's left shoulder and it howled again. Its' grip slackened. Trizkel stabbed it in the wing joint and Nalifan kicked free of the falling demon. The drow ascended away from the balor as it beat the air with its' wings, arresting its tumble.
Two arrows streaked down as the drow flew up. One struck the balor in the muzzle and pierced its upper jaw. The other hit the mighty demon between its eyes and continued a whole foot into its skull. The demon's wings faltered and then another blast of infernal light lit the sky.
"Nice shooting," said Nalifan.
"Anytime," said Mikos. "Was a bit tricky timing it so you would be outside the explosion when I killed it."
"Your artistry is appreciated."
"The others are breaking off," said Trizkel, peering into the night sky. "Guess they don't like the odds with the balors gone. "One of them is quite odd."
"Really?" said Nalifan. "How so?"
"Four arms and wings."
The arch-necromancer thought for a moment. "Pinchers and a second maw in its stomach."
"Too far to be sure, but yeah there was something odd with its lower torso. What is it?"
"A kluricher," said Nalifan. "They tend to be independent lordlings or powerful lieutenants to demon lords. They rival the power of even the balors." His eyes widened. "And they tend to be powerful summoners. He brought help across the Greater Ward. Someone is a fool to choose that demon as instrument on this world of all places." He paused for a moment. "A fool or dangerously clever."
--------------------------------------------------
"Dear brother," Enalisiquis said as she embraced Arinyaniqus, "it is good to see you again."
He hugged his older sister back. They looked much alike, the male and female version of the same being it was sometimes joked. At the moment the contrast between his travelling furs and leathers and her silver gown and cobalt cloak did make telling them apart quite easy."I'm not gone that often."
"You're not here that often either," she said. "Always travelling or preparing for your next venture or studying more magic." She walked slowly away from the elder's grove and he followed her at a leisurely pace through the city's tree lined streets.
"There is some truth to that," he admitted. "It is always good to see you again."
"I'm not the only one that misses you."
"Father does not approve. I will not yield. Therefore, I see them infrequently and discuss other things. That way harmony is maintained."
"Just so," she said. "But perhaps what you have accomplished will change his mind." She paused at the door of a two story long house of white wood.
"It will not. He will merely say that I have endangered us all with my rash actions. His argument will not be entirely without merit."
"You're worried?" she asked.
"I have seen enough of the overmasters power and their evil to know that worrying is very sensible," he said. "When these outlanders are finished ripping into them, they will no longer be self-indulgent tyrants happily sunning themselves on warm rocks. The survivors will be angry and bloodthirsty. They may stir themselves to go north."
"That is unsettling," she admitted. "You will join us for dinner?"
"Of course," he agreed easily. "I will behave, I promise."
"I will hold you to it," she said laughing. "'ware the stormcrow," she said.
Endire was eating up the distance to Enalisquis's house with swift strides. That was quick, Arinyaniquis though to himself. "Elder," he said bowing fractionally.
"We have matters to discuss," said the ice eyed elf.
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2007-01-03 12:46am, edited 2 times in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
I'm guessing a "He is/He's" should go there.One thing to remember about Nalifan is that despite his mastery of the art, quite young
Another dropped pronoun, for Trisk this time.The flames nipped at his flesh, but was shielded from the unholy flames, at least temporarily.
Otherwise, yet another great chapter in the series. I am wondering how the Glass Spell managed to work so well on the Balor... and what caused the explosion when he hit ground.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
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- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
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Because at around 13th level with less powerful items, no arch-mage class levels, no massive inherent bonuses to Int, and no Crown of Sorcery superboosting his casting stat, Nalifan with Spell Focus: Transmutation was able to turn a mature adult shadow dragon swooping down on the party into a falling glass statue. A very cool moment and after checking their stats later to crunch the numbers, not an unlikely outcome. Then there was the Balor he finger of deathed around 16th and so on and so forth.LadyTevar wrote: Otherwise, yet another great chapter in the series. I am wondering how the Glass Spell managed to work so well on the Balor... and what caused the explosion when he hit ground.
Epic Nalifan with the Crown of Sorcery on is not someone whose spells you want to have to save against.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Conceeded.Imperial Overlord wrote:Because at around 13th level with less powerful items, no arch-mage class levels, no massive inherent bonuses to Int, and no Crown of Sorcery superboosting his casting stat, Nalifan with Spell Focus: Transmutation was able to turn a mature adult shadow dragon swooping down on the party into a falling glass statue. A very cool moment and after checking their stats later to crunch the numbers, not an unlikely outcome. Then there was the Balor he finger of deathed around 16th and so on and so forth.LadyTevar wrote: Otherwise, yet another great chapter in the series. I am wondering how the Glass Spell managed to work so well on the Balor... and what caused the explosion when he hit ground.
Epic Nalifan with the Crown of Sorcery on is not someone whose spells you want to have to save against.
I keep forgetting that Nalifan is a specialist in more than just Necromancy.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Honesty compels me to admit that ruthless self interest, the most drow like of motivations, has not been the dominant determiner in many of the most important decisions of my life. Sentimentality, that fatal weakness for all drow, has played its part. It is a a fatal weakness, the product of soft living, and it seems I have acquired it despite all the harsh discipline of my education and the unyielding expectations of my mother. I could cut it all out of my life if I wished, but I do not. I prefer to spend my existence around people I like and can trust than the scorpion's nest of drow society. One weakness is fewer than most and not such a terrible thing when one is aware of it and can armour against as well as having friends to cover your back. I am content with it and will await whatever my life shall bring me.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in private contemplation.
Arinyaniquis followed Endire down the tree lined lanes and into the elder's modest wooden house. Pelts of the mighty white bear covered most of the floor and hung on the walls. "From when I was younger," said Endire. "You aren't the first of us to possess a fiery temperment. In my youth. . . well, that was another time."
"And now?"
"Now I am ice. Fire avails nothing. Wrath, temper, hatred, it will do damage to the overmasters but in the end it will do nothing but betray us and deliver our people into slavery and death. Ice; cold, patient, relentless. When we sent you out, we rolled the dice. It could be, and might still be, a complete disaster."
"So what now?"
"Half measures tend not to work. They don't work against these," Endire said pointing at a bear pelt, "and they won't work against the Achenoi. The others are concerned about how much attention we will draw if we continue to act. In my opinion, it's too late for that. Once this settles they will put the pieces together and start to look. We need to rip open the wounds these off worlders have inflicted and make injuries of our own. The Achenoi are bleeding, but not down. They have revealed their weakness in the way they have been made fools of by these off worlders. We need to hit them and keep hitting them until the overmasters' house begins to collapse. Then their subjects will do the rest of the work for us."
"I agree."
"Of course you do. But that's not reason speaking, but passion. You're still young, your blood still burns."
"My blood does burn," Arinyaniquis said to the pale elf, "but my reason agrees with it."
"So it's settled. We need to leave now."
"Now?"
"Before it is forbidden."
"Technicalities are something humans worry about, not elves."
"Truth. But we will not be stopped now. Besides, we will be heading north, not south."
"What lies north?"
"The ice holds many secrets. You know many of them. There is one more you must know."
"And you?"
"The ice holds the answer to that question as well."
-----------------------------------------------------------
A great bat monster watched from high up as the adventurers descended to the ground, their flight magic expended. It had been drawn to them by the flash, which had been too far away for the human fools to notice but had not escaped his eyes.
Zehaneth circled high above, waiting patiently. His other bodies were constrained to run on land and would take awhile to arrive, even travelling at a pace that would kill a horse. These were dangerous prey, having disposed of balors. Attacking alone would only cost him a precious body and the souls and blood invested in forging it.
He could wait. He had fed quite well and the rest of him would arrive soon enough. And then he would end these mortals and the Achenoi would have to deal with what they had let loose upon the land. Saliva dripped from his jaws. Soon. Soon.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in private contemplation.
Arinyaniquis followed Endire down the tree lined lanes and into the elder's modest wooden house. Pelts of the mighty white bear covered most of the floor and hung on the walls. "From when I was younger," said Endire. "You aren't the first of us to possess a fiery temperment. In my youth. . . well, that was another time."
"And now?"
"Now I am ice. Fire avails nothing. Wrath, temper, hatred, it will do damage to the overmasters but in the end it will do nothing but betray us and deliver our people into slavery and death. Ice; cold, patient, relentless. When we sent you out, we rolled the dice. It could be, and might still be, a complete disaster."
"So what now?"
"Half measures tend not to work. They don't work against these," Endire said pointing at a bear pelt, "and they won't work against the Achenoi. The others are concerned about how much attention we will draw if we continue to act. In my opinion, it's too late for that. Once this settles they will put the pieces together and start to look. We need to rip open the wounds these off worlders have inflicted and make injuries of our own. The Achenoi are bleeding, but not down. They have revealed their weakness in the way they have been made fools of by these off worlders. We need to hit them and keep hitting them until the overmasters' house begins to collapse. Then their subjects will do the rest of the work for us."
"I agree."
"Of course you do. But that's not reason speaking, but passion. You're still young, your blood still burns."
"My blood does burn," Arinyaniquis said to the pale elf, "but my reason agrees with it."
"So it's settled. We need to leave now."
"Now?"
"Before it is forbidden."
"Technicalities are something humans worry about, not elves."
"Truth. But we will not be stopped now. Besides, we will be heading north, not south."
"What lies north?"
"The ice holds many secrets. You know many of them. There is one more you must know."
"And you?"
"The ice holds the answer to that question as well."
-----------------------------------------------------------
A great bat monster watched from high up as the adventurers descended to the ground, their flight magic expended. It had been drawn to them by the flash, which had been too far away for the human fools to notice but had not escaped his eyes.
Zehaneth circled high above, waiting patiently. His other bodies were constrained to run on land and would take awhile to arrive, even travelling at a pace that would kill a horse. These were dangerous prey, having disposed of balors. Attacking alone would only cost him a precious body and the souls and blood invested in forging it.
He could wait. He had fed quite well and the rest of him would arrive soon enough. And then he would end these mortals and the Achenoi would have to deal with what they had let loose upon the land. Saliva dripped from his jaws. Soon. Soon.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
A short chapter, but one very welcome. I've missed reading this, my friend 
I hope your writers block is over.
I hope your writers block is over.Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
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It wasn't writer's block, it was burnout. I could write more on it, but it felt like a chore instead of fun. So I let it cool until it for a while.LadyTevar wrote:A short chapter, but one very welcome. I've missed reading this, my friend
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
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I have done terrible things and I have no remorse. I have been generous and kind and I have no regrets about those actions either. What does that make me? No saint, certainly, but what kind of sinner? How does the weight of my crimes compare to the thousands of lives I have saved, many of those without any expectation of reward? What kind of forgiveness does the life of a child earn me?
Those questions are for those who worry about those things, like you. When I finally die beyond the recall of arcane and divine sorcery, my soul will end up in whatever place is most appropriate thanks to the ancient and primal laws of sympathetic attraction. The soul of a high mage does not become a mere petitioner and wherever I end up, I shall walk with power and not be victim or supplicant. That sounds rather unfair, that I could drench my hands red and not be punished, but I didn't make the multiverse, I just live in it. As for the possible injustice of it all, priests of Bane will get an even cosier deal for worse crimes.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in conversation with Kaeryn
Two white hawks flew over an endless plain of ice. Here the glaciers never relaxed their grip and the powers of fire and life were at best feeble shadows. The dead lay entombed until the end of the world in the glacier's clutch. A few things lived here, but even the terrible remorhaz could not be found here as there was simply not enough prey to sustain it.
A great ice-sheathed mountain loomed in the distance, under the shadow of dark clouds. The hawks approached, gliding over the lifeless plain. As they grew closer gusts of wind made their flight more difficult as the weather grew worse and worse. The wind battered them about and drove snow at them. Endire descended to the ground and resumed elven form. Arinyaniquis followed suit.
"This is no ordinary storm," said Arinyaniquis, stating the obvious as he hurried to catch up with Endire. The elder was striding towards the mountain at a rapid pace. "Is this part of what you wanted me to see?"
"Yes," the elder responded. "The storm is not a defence, but an uncontrolled manifestation of its power. That is why it is not near the city. It is too dangerous."
"Can this manifestation be controlled?"
"If the wielder is strong enough, yes, it can be subdued completely. For a while. If unused its power will build up until it is beyond control and burst forth in a truly terrible storm. This is merely power bleeding off."
"Gods," said Arinyaniquis. "Why not use it?"
"We were too few and not the only ones with terrible weapons is why we haven't used it recently. I only found it long after the retreat."
"You found it?"
"And shaped it and molded it into something that could be used and controlled instead of wild elemental fury," said Endire. "I thought I would wield its one day, in a glorious war of liberation when the time was right. Well, the time has come to wield it, but it will not be my hand."
"You're giving it to me?"
"Yes," he said. "Or rather entrusting it to you for the time being."
"What will you be doing?" Arinyaniquis asked.
"Nothing that the enemy be permitted to know at all costs. You will not be alone and I will join in the effort. There are simply secrets that I cannot risk."
"The elders keep more than a few," said Arinyaniquis.
"That is true and I wish it were otherwise, but it is for the best even if it tastes bitter in my mouth. We keep them from you most of all, because you of all of us might be captured by the enemy and be stripped of all you know."
"I understand," said Arinyaniquis. "It is the nature of things. For now."
"For now," Endire agreed, "but hopefully not much longer. Come, it isn't too far now. You may gaze upon it before nightfall."
---------------------------------------------------
Zehaneth watched the off worlders from above and behind. His bodies were far swifter than horses and the bipeds were travelling on foot. They were between villages, moving down the road through the partially forested countryside. Dawn was approaching and darkness would not favor weak eyed humans. Now was the time to strike.
The bat began its descent as the cat-thing shadowed them from about two miles to the adventurer's left. The wolf-lizard and tusked wolverine rapidly closed on them from behind, their claws tearing up the road and sending plumes of dust into air.
Trizkel, wearing the illusion of a poorly shaven human traveller, stopped and turned. "What in Asmodeus's Hells are those two things?" he asked, pointing down the road. To unaugmented human vision, both of the pursuers were obscured by darkness.
Mikos looked for a moment. "Trouble," he said drawing his bow and reaching for an arrow. "Bad trouble." He pointed up, at the the bat-thing flying high above. "So is that." The cat-thing stopped pacing them an charged towards them. The adventurers were more than a mile away, behind a hill, woods, and fenced fields. It would be upon them very quickly.
"Missed that," said Trizkel. "Very sneaky. Nal?"
"Bad trouble, I agree. I'll take the one with scales." The illusions fell away from the adventurers. Sylvetria and Mikos loosed arrow after arrow in rapid succession. Nalifan whispered a killing spell.
Arrows fell around the octopedal wolverine, but only three struck it. None of the shafts, despite being enchanted and launched from enchanted bows by magically enhanced expert archers, penetrated more than inch of its flesh. "Beshaba's Brats," his Mikos. Those shots could have killed men through mundane plate and the beast dodged too damn well.
Four dark red fiery spheres shot from Nalifan's hand. Three struck the wolf-lizard and one missed, striking the road ten yards behind it and detonating. The meteors burst in explosions that engulfed the scorched the tusked-wolverine. Both creatures charged through the fire and smoke without a second thought. The lizard-wolf seemed moderately scorched while the elephantine wolverine thing seemed only lightly wounded from the flames. "Hades," whispered Nalifan.
"Yeah," said Trizkel. The giant bat thing was swooping down on them, clawed arms extended. Trizkel exhaled a stream of corrosive acid at its chest. The bat thing screamed and momentarily retreated, smoke rising from its torso. The other two came closer.
Mikos fired rapidly at the massive wolverine beast, bouncing one shaft off of its skull and sinking two deeply into its muscled hump and a third in between its ribs. Blood streamed from those wounds but the creature continued to charge the Dalesman. At the last moment Mikos rolled out of the way of its charge.
Sylvetria leapt forward, her warhammer in both hands, as the creature charged passed. The blow slammed into its hip with terrible force, the spike on her hammer penetrating all the way. The force of its charge ripped the weapon free, enlarging the wound in the process and almost tearing the hammer out of her hands.
The lizard-wolf leapt at Nalifan. Trizkel met it in mid air, blades flashing in his hands. They landed just off to left of where Nalifan was standing a moment ago, Trizkel on top his blade scoring shallow wounds in Zehaneth's scaly hide. The wolf thing go up snapping and Trizkel danced to the side and stabbed it in the side with Mind Eater. The blade barely penetrated, opening a shallow wound. The drow bit back a curse and concentrated on fighting.
The bat swooped down, aiming at Trizkel's exposed back. Nalifan uttered a few terrible syllables and unleashed the power of The End of All Flesh. Blood red runes sprang into existence around the descending bat beast.
Zehaneth did not scream and blood did not pour out of its pour out of its body. Its skin remained intact and its flesh unriven. The protogod did not convulse or collapse. Seemingly unaffected by this dreadful killing spell, it continued its plunge with its claws extended to rend Trizkel.
At the last moment the drow dodged out of the way and the bat and the lizard collided. The Eyes of Arachnidae provided Trizkel with all around vision. He rushed forward, stabbing furiously as Zehaneth tried to disentangle his bodies. Blood flew as he stabbed mercilessly. A blow from the bat's left arm knocked Trizkel sprawling. He regained his feet as his enemies separated themselves and the wolverine thing turned for another charge.
The cat beast screamed as it erupted from a nearby copse of trees. It was a huge night black panther that had to weight at least two tons. It sported twin spiked tails and infinite malice. Trizkel's eyes momentarily met Nalifan's. A brief pair of messages were exchanged in that moment. The messages were identical. I think we're in trouble.
Those questions are for those who worry about those things, like you. When I finally die beyond the recall of arcane and divine sorcery, my soul will end up in whatever place is most appropriate thanks to the ancient and primal laws of sympathetic attraction. The soul of a high mage does not become a mere petitioner and wherever I end up, I shall walk with power and not be victim or supplicant. That sounds rather unfair, that I could drench my hands red and not be punished, but I didn't make the multiverse, I just live in it. As for the possible injustice of it all, priests of Bane will get an even cosier deal for worse crimes.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, in conversation with Kaeryn
Two white hawks flew over an endless plain of ice. Here the glaciers never relaxed their grip and the powers of fire and life were at best feeble shadows. The dead lay entombed until the end of the world in the glacier's clutch. A few things lived here, but even the terrible remorhaz could not be found here as there was simply not enough prey to sustain it.
A great ice-sheathed mountain loomed in the distance, under the shadow of dark clouds. The hawks approached, gliding over the lifeless plain. As they grew closer gusts of wind made their flight more difficult as the weather grew worse and worse. The wind battered them about and drove snow at them. Endire descended to the ground and resumed elven form. Arinyaniquis followed suit.
"This is no ordinary storm," said Arinyaniquis, stating the obvious as he hurried to catch up with Endire. The elder was striding towards the mountain at a rapid pace. "Is this part of what you wanted me to see?"
"Yes," the elder responded. "The storm is not a defence, but an uncontrolled manifestation of its power. That is why it is not near the city. It is too dangerous."
"Can this manifestation be controlled?"
"If the wielder is strong enough, yes, it can be subdued completely. For a while. If unused its power will build up until it is beyond control and burst forth in a truly terrible storm. This is merely power bleeding off."
"Gods," said Arinyaniquis. "Why not use it?"
"We were too few and not the only ones with terrible weapons is why we haven't used it recently. I only found it long after the retreat."
"You found it?"
"And shaped it and molded it into something that could be used and controlled instead of wild elemental fury," said Endire. "I thought I would wield its one day, in a glorious war of liberation when the time was right. Well, the time has come to wield it, but it will not be my hand."
"You're giving it to me?"
"Yes," he said. "Or rather entrusting it to you for the time being."
"What will you be doing?" Arinyaniquis asked.
"Nothing that the enemy be permitted to know at all costs. You will not be alone and I will join in the effort. There are simply secrets that I cannot risk."
"The elders keep more than a few," said Arinyaniquis.
"That is true and I wish it were otherwise, but it is for the best even if it tastes bitter in my mouth. We keep them from you most of all, because you of all of us might be captured by the enemy and be stripped of all you know."
"I understand," said Arinyaniquis. "It is the nature of things. For now."
"For now," Endire agreed, "but hopefully not much longer. Come, it isn't too far now. You may gaze upon it before nightfall."
---------------------------------------------------
Zehaneth watched the off worlders from above and behind. His bodies were far swifter than horses and the bipeds were travelling on foot. They were between villages, moving down the road through the partially forested countryside. Dawn was approaching and darkness would not favor weak eyed humans. Now was the time to strike.
The bat began its descent as the cat-thing shadowed them from about two miles to the adventurer's left. The wolf-lizard and tusked wolverine rapidly closed on them from behind, their claws tearing up the road and sending plumes of dust into air.
Trizkel, wearing the illusion of a poorly shaven human traveller, stopped and turned. "What in Asmodeus's Hells are those two things?" he asked, pointing down the road. To unaugmented human vision, both of the pursuers were obscured by darkness.
Mikos looked for a moment. "Trouble," he said drawing his bow and reaching for an arrow. "Bad trouble." He pointed up, at the the bat-thing flying high above. "So is that." The cat-thing stopped pacing them an charged towards them. The adventurers were more than a mile away, behind a hill, woods, and fenced fields. It would be upon them very quickly.
"Missed that," said Trizkel. "Very sneaky. Nal?"
"Bad trouble, I agree. I'll take the one with scales." The illusions fell away from the adventurers. Sylvetria and Mikos loosed arrow after arrow in rapid succession. Nalifan whispered a killing spell.
Arrows fell around the octopedal wolverine, but only three struck it. None of the shafts, despite being enchanted and launched from enchanted bows by magically enhanced expert archers, penetrated more than inch of its flesh. "Beshaba's Brats," his Mikos. Those shots could have killed men through mundane plate and the beast dodged too damn well.
Four dark red fiery spheres shot from Nalifan's hand. Three struck the wolf-lizard and one missed, striking the road ten yards behind it and detonating. The meteors burst in explosions that engulfed the scorched the tusked-wolverine. Both creatures charged through the fire and smoke without a second thought. The lizard-wolf seemed moderately scorched while the elephantine wolverine thing seemed only lightly wounded from the flames. "Hades," whispered Nalifan.
"Yeah," said Trizkel. The giant bat thing was swooping down on them, clawed arms extended. Trizkel exhaled a stream of corrosive acid at its chest. The bat thing screamed and momentarily retreated, smoke rising from its torso. The other two came closer.
Mikos fired rapidly at the massive wolverine beast, bouncing one shaft off of its skull and sinking two deeply into its muscled hump and a third in between its ribs. Blood streamed from those wounds but the creature continued to charge the Dalesman. At the last moment Mikos rolled out of the way of its charge.
Sylvetria leapt forward, her warhammer in both hands, as the creature charged passed. The blow slammed into its hip with terrible force, the spike on her hammer penetrating all the way. The force of its charge ripped the weapon free, enlarging the wound in the process and almost tearing the hammer out of her hands.
The lizard-wolf leapt at Nalifan. Trizkel met it in mid air, blades flashing in his hands. They landed just off to left of where Nalifan was standing a moment ago, Trizkel on top his blade scoring shallow wounds in Zehaneth's scaly hide. The wolf thing go up snapping and Trizkel danced to the side and stabbed it in the side with Mind Eater. The blade barely penetrated, opening a shallow wound. The drow bit back a curse and concentrated on fighting.
The bat swooped down, aiming at Trizkel's exposed back. Nalifan uttered a few terrible syllables and unleashed the power of The End of All Flesh. Blood red runes sprang into existence around the descending bat beast.
Zehaneth did not scream and blood did not pour out of its pour out of its body. Its skin remained intact and its flesh unriven. The protogod did not convulse or collapse. Seemingly unaffected by this dreadful killing spell, it continued its plunge with its claws extended to rend Trizkel.
At the last moment the drow dodged out of the way and the bat and the lizard collided. The Eyes of Arachnidae provided Trizkel with all around vision. He rushed forward, stabbing furiously as Zehaneth tried to disentangle his bodies. Blood flew as he stabbed mercilessly. A blow from the bat's left arm knocked Trizkel sprawling. He regained his feet as his enemies separated themselves and the wolverine thing turned for another charge.
The cat beast screamed as it erupted from a nearby copse of trees. It was a huge night black panther that had to weight at least two tons. It sported twin spiked tails and infinite malice. Trizkel's eyes momentarily met Nalifan's. A brief pair of messages were exchanged in that moment. The messages were identical. I think we're in trouble.
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2007-02-15 11:37pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Most paladins don't really understand Tyr. It's easy to understand why they don't, he's not from around here. At all. His home pantheon is different and although an aspect of him is present around Abner Toril, he isn't native. He's from a rough and tough foreign pantheon and they play a lot harder than Toril's gods do. They're more than a little rough around the edges. Hard gods and goddesses. So Tyr has stepped it down a few degrees to fit in and run his paladins as he's supposed to, but we are talking about a god who put his hand in the maw of a cosmic wolf, knowing he was going to lose it permanently. It's not surprising he's the only the god that had the balls to call Ao on his bullshit to his face, even knowing he was going to take a hit.
Speaking of taking a hit, Ao maybe the top god in the region around Toril, but that's about it. Tyr's known on a lot of worlds and he isn't even one of the top gods in his pantheon. Beating up his Toril manifestation is not the same thing as taking the god on in his seat of power, let alone his allies. If I were Ao, I wouldn't go wandering around Ysgard anytime soon. Someone could get hurt. With a god slaying hammer or spear.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, discussing the implications of multiple worlds and religion.
Endire lead Arinyaniquis towards a small cave at the base of the mountain. The younger elf stopped a the entrance. "This should be sealed in ice."
"Yes," said Endire, "in other circumstances it would be."
Warm air billowed from the cave. "Watch your step," said Endire. "It's slippery. Wet ice."
Arinyaniquis followed gingerly. "The heat is your work, to keep the passage open."
"Yes. I mastered fire before ice."
"I didn't know that."
"It was a long time ago," said the elder elf as he lead the way down the cave. "Before I discovered some of the secrets hidden in the ice and the true power of winter. Some of which I have passed along to you."
"But not all."
"Well, I wouldn't have to take you here if I had already passed them along."
Endire lead him deeper and deeper into the ice. The ice got dimmer, the ghost of a dozen reflections leading back to the surface. Elven eyes managed to pierce the gloom as they continued into the mountain's heart.
Eventually that light became to feeble for even elves to see by. A faint blue phosphorescent glow. "What's that light ahead?" Arinyaniquis asked.
"Fire," Endire replied. It got brighter and brighter as they continued ahead. "We are almost there."
The passage opened up into a vaulted chamber one hundred feet across. In the center was a ring of blue flames surrounding a pedestal of ice. Snow blew and gusted around the top of the column. "What is that?" Arinyaniquis asked. "I can feel its power from here."
"Go forward and discover for yourself," Endire replied. Arinyaniquis muttered a spell and walked across the chamber. The heat of the flames fell upon him, but he did not feel them as he crossed through the ring.
Ahead of him the prize glittered.
He approached slowly. It wasn't very big, a smooth limp of white ice that could fit into his hand. Snowy and icy winds blew around it. He reached out and took it with his right hand. It was so cold it burned. Snow blew around him. He focused his will and the wind died.
"The Heart of Winter," said Endire. "It is time that winter moved south."
---------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan shouted a deadly spell, channelling additional force into the working so it would strike with even more power. An emerald beam shot from his finger and brushed the side of the cat-monster. Hide and muscles dissolved away in a shower of green motes, revealing a large swath of wet muscle and bloody bone that stretched from its left shoulder almost to its hips. It screamed in agony. "Mikos!" Nalifan shouted.
The archer spun and fired. Without the resistance of the creature's unnaturally tough hide three arrows sank in deep between the creatures ribs. The cat beast coughed up blood and attempted to stagger forward. It barely kept its footing.
The eight legged wolverine-beast completed its charge and turned around to charged again. One leg was dragging, but the other seven worked well enough. It charged Sylvetria. The Vaasan raised her hammer and stood ready. At the last moment she dodged to the side, intending to strike again as the beast moved passed. She wasn't fast enough.
The wolverine-thing caught her with its tusks and tossed her twenty feet into the air. She landed with a loud crunch thirty feet away at the side of the road. Mikos put a shaft into its neck. Blood poured from the wound. "Over here!" he yelled.
Trizkel gave ground steadily as a the bat and the lizard-wolf tore at him. Blood trickled from shallow wounds on his arms and chest and from numerous wounds on Zehaneth's bodies. Even the severest blows barely bit their divine flesh and only the drow's speed and skill had prevented him from being rent asunder.
Nalifan shouted a spell and bloody mist poured off each of Zehaneth's bodies. They hissed or growled in pain, but did not stop fighting. The wolverine-beast bellowed and charged Mikos. The Dalesman knocked an arrow and aimed carefully. The beast drew close. He loosed.
The arrow struck the wolverine-thing in the right eye and the Dalesman leapt that way, out of the path of the charge. Zehaneth was unable react swiftly enough on his blind side and Mikos escaped unharmed. The wolverine turned and roared at Mikos and the Dalesman shot it down the throat. The beast staggered and then fell.
Trizkel belched a lethal stream of acid at the bat creature. It shrieked and rose into the air away from him. Nalifan shouted a spell a sphere of lightning too intense to directly see formed around the bat. Branches of lightning arced to the ground. A blackened, unrecognizable corpse fell to the earth in a shower of ash.
The lizard wolf darted for the trees, running at cheetah sprint speed. One of Mikos's arrows bounced off its hide, another sunk into its haunches. "Damn," the Dalesman swore.
"Syl!" Trizkel shouted as he rushed to her side.
"I'm alright," she said as she used her hammer to level herself to her feet. She spasmed as a coughing fit wracked her body. Bloody phlegm spilled from her lips. "Well, not alright, but nothing that can't be fixed."
Trizkel placed his arm around her and steadied her. "Nal, what in all of Baator's Hells was that thing?"
"I don't know for sure," said the drow. "Probably something left over from the Illithid War. I'm not sure why, but The End of All Flesh couldn't bite the bat."
"Because it wasn't the bat," said Trizkel. "They're one soul or one group of souls, not a group of different creatures."
"The power of a collective soul to resist the spell, yes," said Nalifan. "Those eyes of yours are useful."
"So its immune to death magic?" asked Mikos.
"No, no, not immune it just can resist with its collective instead of individual strength. For most practical purposes that's almost as good as immunity."
"Your working on something," said Trizkel.
"Just considering possibilities," the arch-necromancer replied. "I'll need tissue samples and time to conduct examinations and then we'll see."
"You think we'll see it again."
"A weapon that lethal is worth restoring and sending out again. You don't need to be as smart as I am to know that's a good move and they have the resources of an empire for the restoration."
"Fuck," said Mikos.
Speaking of taking a hit, Ao maybe the top god in the region around Toril, but that's about it. Tyr's known on a lot of worlds and he isn't even one of the top gods in his pantheon. Beating up his Toril manifestation is not the same thing as taking the god on in his seat of power, let alone his allies. If I were Ao, I wouldn't go wandering around Ysgard anytime soon. Someone could get hurt. With a god slaying hammer or spear.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien, discussing the implications of multiple worlds and religion.
Endire lead Arinyaniquis towards a small cave at the base of the mountain. The younger elf stopped a the entrance. "This should be sealed in ice."
"Yes," said Endire, "in other circumstances it would be."
Warm air billowed from the cave. "Watch your step," said Endire. "It's slippery. Wet ice."
Arinyaniquis followed gingerly. "The heat is your work, to keep the passage open."
"Yes. I mastered fire before ice."
"I didn't know that."
"It was a long time ago," said the elder elf as he lead the way down the cave. "Before I discovered some of the secrets hidden in the ice and the true power of winter. Some of which I have passed along to you."
"But not all."
"Well, I wouldn't have to take you here if I had already passed them along."
Endire lead him deeper and deeper into the ice. The ice got dimmer, the ghost of a dozen reflections leading back to the surface. Elven eyes managed to pierce the gloom as they continued into the mountain's heart.
Eventually that light became to feeble for even elves to see by. A faint blue phosphorescent glow. "What's that light ahead?" Arinyaniquis asked.
"Fire," Endire replied. It got brighter and brighter as they continued ahead. "We are almost there."
The passage opened up into a vaulted chamber one hundred feet across. In the center was a ring of blue flames surrounding a pedestal of ice. Snow blew and gusted around the top of the column. "What is that?" Arinyaniquis asked. "I can feel its power from here."
"Go forward and discover for yourself," Endire replied. Arinyaniquis muttered a spell and walked across the chamber. The heat of the flames fell upon him, but he did not feel them as he crossed through the ring.
Ahead of him the prize glittered.
He approached slowly. It wasn't very big, a smooth limp of white ice that could fit into his hand. Snowy and icy winds blew around it. He reached out and took it with his right hand. It was so cold it burned. Snow blew around him. He focused his will and the wind died.
"The Heart of Winter," said Endire. "It is time that winter moved south."
---------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan shouted a deadly spell, channelling additional force into the working so it would strike with even more power. An emerald beam shot from his finger and brushed the side of the cat-monster. Hide and muscles dissolved away in a shower of green motes, revealing a large swath of wet muscle and bloody bone that stretched from its left shoulder almost to its hips. It screamed in agony. "Mikos!" Nalifan shouted.
The archer spun and fired. Without the resistance of the creature's unnaturally tough hide three arrows sank in deep between the creatures ribs. The cat beast coughed up blood and attempted to stagger forward. It barely kept its footing.
The eight legged wolverine-beast completed its charge and turned around to charged again. One leg was dragging, but the other seven worked well enough. It charged Sylvetria. The Vaasan raised her hammer and stood ready. At the last moment she dodged to the side, intending to strike again as the beast moved passed. She wasn't fast enough.
The wolverine-thing caught her with its tusks and tossed her twenty feet into the air. She landed with a loud crunch thirty feet away at the side of the road. Mikos put a shaft into its neck. Blood poured from the wound. "Over here!" he yelled.
Trizkel gave ground steadily as a the bat and the lizard-wolf tore at him. Blood trickled from shallow wounds on his arms and chest and from numerous wounds on Zehaneth's bodies. Even the severest blows barely bit their divine flesh and only the drow's speed and skill had prevented him from being rent asunder.
Nalifan shouted a spell and bloody mist poured off each of Zehaneth's bodies. They hissed or growled in pain, but did not stop fighting. The wolverine-beast bellowed and charged Mikos. The Dalesman knocked an arrow and aimed carefully. The beast drew close. He loosed.
The arrow struck the wolverine-thing in the right eye and the Dalesman leapt that way, out of the path of the charge. Zehaneth was unable react swiftly enough on his blind side and Mikos escaped unharmed. The wolverine turned and roared at Mikos and the Dalesman shot it down the throat. The beast staggered and then fell.
Trizkel belched a lethal stream of acid at the bat creature. It shrieked and rose into the air away from him. Nalifan shouted a spell a sphere of lightning too intense to directly see formed around the bat. Branches of lightning arced to the ground. A blackened, unrecognizable corpse fell to the earth in a shower of ash.
The lizard wolf darted for the trees, running at cheetah sprint speed. One of Mikos's arrows bounced off its hide, another sunk into its haunches. "Damn," the Dalesman swore.
"Syl!" Trizkel shouted as he rushed to her side.
"I'm alright," she said as she used her hammer to level herself to her feet. She spasmed as a coughing fit wracked her body. Bloody phlegm spilled from her lips. "Well, not alright, but nothing that can't be fixed."
Trizkel placed his arm around her and steadied her. "Nal, what in all of Baator's Hells was that thing?"
"I don't know for sure," said the drow. "Probably something left over from the Illithid War. I'm not sure why, but The End of All Flesh couldn't bite the bat."
"Because it wasn't the bat," said Trizkel. "They're one soul or one group of souls, not a group of different creatures."
"The power of a collective soul to resist the spell, yes," said Nalifan. "Those eyes of yours are useful."
"So its immune to death magic?" asked Mikos.
"No, no, not immune it just can resist with its collective instead of individual strength. For most practical purposes that's almost as good as immunity."
"Your working on something," said Trizkel.
"Just considering possibilities," the arch-necromancer replied. "I'll need tissue samples and time to conduct examinations and then we'll see."
"You think we'll see it again."
"A weapon that lethal is worth restoring and sending out again. You don't need to be as smart as I am to know that's a good move and they have the resources of an empire for the restoration."
"Fuck," said Mikos.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
It's high time the cakewalk ended 
I wonder where Nalifan will find a laboratory to carry out his research (maybe he carries one in a bag of holding ?
).
Lack of healing magic sucks, though. Good thing they looted a few cure wands. I wonder why they did not "hire" a cleric, but with the dimensional barrier they couldn't receive spells from their gods, no? What about a druid?
I wonder where Nalifan will find a laboratory to carry out his research (maybe he carries one in a bag of holding ?
).Lack of healing magic sucks, though. Good thing they looted a few cure wands. I wonder why they did not "hire" a cleric, but with the dimensional barrier they couldn't receive spells from their gods, no? What about a druid?
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
I have no idea why some elves don't get along with dwarves. They're skilled craftsmen and brewers and on the surface they don't even share the same habitat. They have enemies in common. Where's the problem? You don't like each other's attitudes? Not betrayal, not war, not bloodshed, not even non-payment of debts? Merciful Ilmatar, that's nothing.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
This coming from a man who thinks sufficient disrespect is a killing offence?
-Kaeryn
When have I treated a dwarf craftsmen with anything less than respect? It's really not that hard.
-Nalifan
Not everyone is as bright as you are. As you keep on mentioning.
-Kaeryn
An elbow jostled Kerovos, causing wine to spill from his cup. He growled and turned. He was not a man to anger lightly. Slightly over average height, with permanent stubble and long dark mustaches, the trader had a chest like a barrel and arms like an ape. The man who had bumped him at the bar was just a little on the short side, light skinned and blonde. The northerner was wearing leathers and had one of those lean wiry builds which meant he would be trouble in a fight if you gave him the opportunity.
"Sorry friend," said the northerner. "Let me make it up to you." Another northerner next to him was ready to back him up. He was taller than Kerovos and not quite as heavily built. Between them both northerners carried a very respectable amount of steel. Kerovos's mood was bad, but not quite bad enough to want to tangle with these two.
"Wine!" the blonde shouted. "Three!" he said holding up his fingers. Coins hit the bar. The bartender filled three clay cups and pushed them across.
Kerovos nodded at the northerner in acknowledgement that everything was going to be okay. "You new in town?" he asked, business skills coming to the fore now that violence wasn't going to happen.
"Yes," said the northerner.
"What's your business?"
"Slaves, mostly. Catch and bring 'em down, get whatever is cheap here and will sell dear up north. By my father's bones, the prices of slaves are high here and everyone's buying. Did better than I expected."
"Your timing is good friend," said Kerovos. "The overmasters bought every slave and called in every debt they could in the form of flesh a month ago. All of them disappeared, vanished. Gone. The price of slaves jumped through the roof. Got here a month earlier and you would have lost them at a mandated price and only gotten a small profit."
"Dog's balls!" the small man swore. "That would have been bad."
"Just you and your friend in the business?"
"Eh? Oh no. My brother and his wife as well. A few old family retainers, you know how it is. Born into the business and die in the business."
"Best kind of men. Dependable. How many times have you been to Neridian?"
"First time. Usually catch 'em and sell them up north. Long term maintenance and security has its own costs. Easier and cheaper to just sell them to the local merchants. More investment needed to bring them down, but more profits too so we made the jump."
"Expanding the business," said Kerovos. "I understand. Look, I know the city, know some people. I can help you."
"For a little sweetener."
"Catch more flies with honey than vinegar."
"Truth."
"That could be helpful," said the slim man. "There's something else I need. My brother's going to be starting a family and wants a tutor from the capital for his kids."
"They're the best," said Kerovos.
"Know where I can get one?"
"Don't worry, I can help you with that."
-------------------------------------------------------------
The eagle winged its way south over the great plains of ice. Soon it would be clear of this glacier and once again over the lands of men. The power of winter rested quietly within, its power stilled and building. Soon it would have to be unleashed or it would erupt of its own accord, but Arinyaniquis had more than enough time for his plans. The killing cold would be unleashed in accordance to his own will and plans. Winter would not be denied.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
This coming from a man who thinks sufficient disrespect is a killing offence?
-Kaeryn
When have I treated a dwarf craftsmen with anything less than respect? It's really not that hard.
-Nalifan
Not everyone is as bright as you are. As you keep on mentioning.
-Kaeryn
An elbow jostled Kerovos, causing wine to spill from his cup. He growled and turned. He was not a man to anger lightly. Slightly over average height, with permanent stubble and long dark mustaches, the trader had a chest like a barrel and arms like an ape. The man who had bumped him at the bar was just a little on the short side, light skinned and blonde. The northerner was wearing leathers and had one of those lean wiry builds which meant he would be trouble in a fight if you gave him the opportunity.
"Sorry friend," said the northerner. "Let me make it up to you." Another northerner next to him was ready to back him up. He was taller than Kerovos and not quite as heavily built. Between them both northerners carried a very respectable amount of steel. Kerovos's mood was bad, but not quite bad enough to want to tangle with these two.
"Wine!" the blonde shouted. "Three!" he said holding up his fingers. Coins hit the bar. The bartender filled three clay cups and pushed them across.
Kerovos nodded at the northerner in acknowledgement that everything was going to be okay. "You new in town?" he asked, business skills coming to the fore now that violence wasn't going to happen.
"Yes," said the northerner.
"What's your business?"
"Slaves, mostly. Catch and bring 'em down, get whatever is cheap here and will sell dear up north. By my father's bones, the prices of slaves are high here and everyone's buying. Did better than I expected."
"Your timing is good friend," said Kerovos. "The overmasters bought every slave and called in every debt they could in the form of flesh a month ago. All of them disappeared, vanished. Gone. The price of slaves jumped through the roof. Got here a month earlier and you would have lost them at a mandated price and only gotten a small profit."
"Dog's balls!" the small man swore. "That would have been bad."
"Just you and your friend in the business?"
"Eh? Oh no. My brother and his wife as well. A few old family retainers, you know how it is. Born into the business and die in the business."
"Best kind of men. Dependable. How many times have you been to Neridian?"
"First time. Usually catch 'em and sell them up north. Long term maintenance and security has its own costs. Easier and cheaper to just sell them to the local merchants. More investment needed to bring them down, but more profits too so we made the jump."
"Expanding the business," said Kerovos. "I understand. Look, I know the city, know some people. I can help you."
"For a little sweetener."
"Catch more flies with honey than vinegar."
"Truth."
"That could be helpful," said the slim man. "There's something else I need. My brother's going to be starting a family and wants a tutor from the capital for his kids."
"They're the best," said Kerovos.
"Know where I can get one?"
"Don't worry, I can help you with that."
-------------------------------------------------------------
The eagle winged its way south over the great plains of ice. Soon it would be clear of this glacier and once again over the lands of men. The power of winter rested quietly within, its power stilled and building. Soon it would have to be unleashed or it would erupt of its own accord, but Arinyaniquis had more than enough time for his plans. The killing cold would be unleashed in accordance to his own will and plans. Winter would not be denied.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
YES! FINALLY ANOTHER CHAPTER!
*huggles and lubs on ImpO*
*huggles and lubs on ImpO*
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
To do magic is to draw upon the fundamental powers of all existence to accomplish ones desires. One can raise the dead, slay the living, step across a continent, vanish from sight, turn lead to gold, and stone to dust. All these things are possible, but in some situations wringing a neck or slitting a throat are still the best solutions.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
There's also a lot to be said in favor of an arrow in the back.
-Mikos
Kerovos clutched his throat in a feeble attempt to staunch the flow of blood spilling from his wound. Nalifan kicked his feet out from under him, dropping the dying man to the dirt. Kerovos gasped and twitched.
The drow looked around, seeing if anyone was paying attention to the goings on occuring in the alley. The narrow, winding passage between closely packed buildings was deserted, with the exception of a few rats and roaches. Amazing how the locals disappeared when the going got rough. Slums seemed to be the same everywhere.
He cleaned his dagger on the tunic of Kerovos's friend. The drow had broken his neck at the start of the fight. Miko was cleaning his sword on a third. "You know," said Nalifan as he sheathed his blade, "I was fairly sure that pretending to be slavers was going to create the impression we were too nasty to be messed with. Its not like either of us are underarmed."
Miko finished cleaning his blade. "They got greedy and dumb. Then they got dead. Never changes." He sheathed his sword and stepped over the corpse. He altered course slightly to avoid a growing pool of blood. "Should we try again?"
"No," said Nalifan. "Not until we see if Trizkel and Syl had any luck."
Mikos shrugged in acknowledgement. Either way it didn't mean much to him. He bent down to slice off Kerovos's purse and then followed the drow back into the sunlight.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Trizkel waived Nalifan and Miko over to where he and Sylvetria were seated. The drow appeared as a somewhat squat tanned skinned blonde human, well armed and in the presence of an attractive woman carrying just as much steel. The crowds in the square had begun to ease up as the day closed and they had secured a table near the fountain, a thirty foot tall monstrosity of coiling dragons rising into the air and the faces of forgotten gods staring out from the base. Coins of various denominations lay in the bottom. The water elemental gliding through the water made any attempts at theft most unwise.
Trizkel had been able to pick up the language by now. It really wasn't that hard and he was a quick study. He had loaded a basket with some of the most appealing items and he and Sylvetria had started in on their evening meal.
Miko slid in next to Sylvetria and Nalifan next to Trizkel. "Any luck?" Nalifan asked.
"You?" Trizkel responded.
"Some fool thought of trying to relieve us of the burden of our wealth."
"So you failed," said Trizkel with a faint smile.
"Yes," said Nalifan. "I take it that the self satisfied smirk you're wearing means that you didn't?"
"Yes," said Trizkel. Nalifan reached passed him and grabbed the wine bottle and skewer of meat and vegetables.
"Might as well tell me know," said Nalifan.
"Easy enough," Trizkel drawled. "We posed as a newly married pair of social climbers, eager to correct any deficiencies in our education and making sure our children would get a proper education. These people all believe northerners are outrageously barbaric."
"And?" said Nalifan raising his eyebrows.
"So we were directed to a few scholars. Interviewed them and asked questions, to establish their level of knowledge." There was a glint in his eye.
"Let me guess," said Nalifan. "You got the answers."
"Yep. There's a big chunk of land out east owned by a bunch of monks who live on a mountain. They don't do anything except study and perfect themselves. If anyone's got the answers on that multibodied thingy or whatever else you want to know, it will be them. And they don't even take sides."
"Good," said Nalifan. He filled a clay cup with wine and then passed the bottle to Miko. "And the overmasters?"
"A bunch of them have come back, according to the rumour mill. They mostly stay in their fortress or so the gossip says."
"What kind of presence do they have in the east?"
"None. The monks own it free and clear. Apparently some of their masters are kick ass psionicists and such, but they aren't political. They just stick to themselves. Some of the their students do leave and join up with the overmasters though."
"Hmm," said Nalifan. "Might be an angle we could exploit."
"They don't sound so bad," said Sylvetria.
"They don't sound so good either," said Nalifan. "Sitting on your ass and spending tithe money on yourself isn't a sign of virtue. They're invested in the status quo. We need to be careful when dealing with them."
Trizkel shrugged. "There's always the usual," he said patting Mind Eater's hilt.
"True," said Nalifan.
"We're going to get into a lot more trouble," said Miko.
"Yes, we are," Sylvetria replied.
"I wasn't complaining, just making sure I was understanding things correctly," said Miko.
"The monks had better hope not," said Nalifan. "A fight might be rough going for us, but it will murder them."
"Get new jokes," said Sylvetria as she unwrapped a leaf package. "Figs?" she offered.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
There's also a lot to be said in favor of an arrow in the back.
-Mikos
Kerovos clutched his throat in a feeble attempt to staunch the flow of blood spilling from his wound. Nalifan kicked his feet out from under him, dropping the dying man to the dirt. Kerovos gasped and twitched.
The drow looked around, seeing if anyone was paying attention to the goings on occuring in the alley. The narrow, winding passage between closely packed buildings was deserted, with the exception of a few rats and roaches. Amazing how the locals disappeared when the going got rough. Slums seemed to be the same everywhere.
He cleaned his dagger on the tunic of Kerovos's friend. The drow had broken his neck at the start of the fight. Miko was cleaning his sword on a third. "You know," said Nalifan as he sheathed his blade, "I was fairly sure that pretending to be slavers was going to create the impression we were too nasty to be messed with. Its not like either of us are underarmed."
Miko finished cleaning his blade. "They got greedy and dumb. Then they got dead. Never changes." He sheathed his sword and stepped over the corpse. He altered course slightly to avoid a growing pool of blood. "Should we try again?"
"No," said Nalifan. "Not until we see if Trizkel and Syl had any luck."
Mikos shrugged in acknowledgement. Either way it didn't mean much to him. He bent down to slice off Kerovos's purse and then followed the drow back into the sunlight.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Trizkel waived Nalifan and Miko over to where he and Sylvetria were seated. The drow appeared as a somewhat squat tanned skinned blonde human, well armed and in the presence of an attractive woman carrying just as much steel. The crowds in the square had begun to ease up as the day closed and they had secured a table near the fountain, a thirty foot tall monstrosity of coiling dragons rising into the air and the faces of forgotten gods staring out from the base. Coins of various denominations lay in the bottom. The water elemental gliding through the water made any attempts at theft most unwise.
Trizkel had been able to pick up the language by now. It really wasn't that hard and he was a quick study. He had loaded a basket with some of the most appealing items and he and Sylvetria had started in on their evening meal.
Miko slid in next to Sylvetria and Nalifan next to Trizkel. "Any luck?" Nalifan asked.
"You?" Trizkel responded.
"Some fool thought of trying to relieve us of the burden of our wealth."
"So you failed," said Trizkel with a faint smile.
"Yes," said Nalifan. "I take it that the self satisfied smirk you're wearing means that you didn't?"
"Yes," said Trizkel. Nalifan reached passed him and grabbed the wine bottle and skewer of meat and vegetables.
"Might as well tell me know," said Nalifan.
"Easy enough," Trizkel drawled. "We posed as a newly married pair of social climbers, eager to correct any deficiencies in our education and making sure our children would get a proper education. These people all believe northerners are outrageously barbaric."
"And?" said Nalifan raising his eyebrows.
"So we were directed to a few scholars. Interviewed them and asked questions, to establish their level of knowledge." There was a glint in his eye.
"Let me guess," said Nalifan. "You got the answers."
"Yep. There's a big chunk of land out east owned by a bunch of monks who live on a mountain. They don't do anything except study and perfect themselves. If anyone's got the answers on that multibodied thingy or whatever else you want to know, it will be them. And they don't even take sides."
"Good," said Nalifan. He filled a clay cup with wine and then passed the bottle to Miko. "And the overmasters?"
"A bunch of them have come back, according to the rumour mill. They mostly stay in their fortress or so the gossip says."
"What kind of presence do they have in the east?"
"None. The monks own it free and clear. Apparently some of their masters are kick ass psionicists and such, but they aren't political. They just stick to themselves. Some of the their students do leave and join up with the overmasters though."
"Hmm," said Nalifan. "Might be an angle we could exploit."
"They don't sound so bad," said Sylvetria.
"They don't sound so good either," said Nalifan. "Sitting on your ass and spending tithe money on yourself isn't a sign of virtue. They're invested in the status quo. We need to be careful when dealing with them."
Trizkel shrugged. "There's always the usual," he said patting Mind Eater's hilt.
"True," said Nalifan.
"We're going to get into a lot more trouble," said Miko.
"Yes, we are," Sylvetria replied.
"I wasn't complaining, just making sure I was understanding things correctly," said Miko.
"The monks had better hope not," said Nalifan. "A fight might be rough going for us, but it will murder them."
"Get new jokes," said Sylvetria as she unwrapped a leaf package. "Figs?" she offered.
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2007-03-25 08:39pm, edited 2 times in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Heavens... where do I start the Typo Brigade...
And, as Syl suggested, Get New Jokes
That would be really hard with magic, wouldn't it. It would really have to depend on the content, right?step across a content,
Seated?he and Sylvetria were seating.
Past.Nalifan reached passed him
Now."Might as well tell me know,
There's a word left out there somewhere....We posed as a newly married of social climbers
And, as Syl suggested, Get New Jokes
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Past.LadyTevar wrote:
Nalifan reached passed him
[/quote]
It is formulated correctly either way, actually. Like leapt either leaped can be correct. Don't you just love English?
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
In my time I have dealt with many wizards, priests, seers, visionaries, and so called wisemen. I have studied at the feet of the cruel and learned and listened to the good and wise and after all of that I have come to the conclusion that there are few things more selfish than the so-called pursuit of enlightenment practiced by various mystics. After receiving years of instruction, being fed and clothed and educated thanks to someone else's labour, they withdraw from the world to 'perfect' themselves. What a wonderful deal for the average peasant. My pursuit of power is just as selfish, but more honest.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
Your cynicism is grating, as usual, but in this instance I happen to agree. Of course, it would be nicer if you were more public spirited in your uses of power as well.
-Kaeryn
How many times to I have to avert catastrophe before I get any credit?
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
I said "more". More, as in you do it but it would be nicer if you did it more often.
-Kaeryn
"How in the name of all of Baator's Hells can that thing be natural?" Syvetria asked. They were all staring at it, an impossible column of earth and rock towering into the sky. "It's the size of a thrice cursed mountain, in the middle of a god's damn plain with nothing like it around."
"Maybe vulcanism," said Nalifan. "Shaped obviously. Or elemental magics from the first. The Achenoi wielded great power in their prime. This would not have been beyond them."
"I guess the perfecti moved in after the Illithids were defeated?" asked Mikos.
"Yes," said Sylvetria. She nudged her horse ahead. Rolling fields of wheat and small orchards were visible as far as the eye could see. A complicated network of irrigation canals fed the fields and a great host of peasants were at work tending the fields. Clusters of huts were grouped next to animal sheds, forming a ring around a larger compound that was the nexus of little village communities.
"Wonder what kind of lords the monks are?" Mikos asked.
"Bad ones," said Sylvetria. "This is rich land. Even if you're blind to the soil you can see its bounty. All this, and good grazing land to, and the farmers live in those little huts? And look at those men over there. The big ones on horses. Overseers. They squeeze for their masters. They're serfs or as close to it as makes no difference."
"Close enough to the way things are run back home," Nalifan said.
"The Dales aren't like that!" said Mikos.
"I meant the Underdark," said Nalifan.
"You've lived in that house how long and it still isn't home?" asked Mikos.
"Years," said Nalifan, "although not as many years as I spent in my mother's home."
"Sometimes I forget how old both of you are," Sylvetria said softly.
"We tend to judge things by familiar standards, those we were taught by whoever raised us," said Nalifan. "All of existence tends to be a bit more complex."
"Do you have a plan?" Sylvetria asked. "Are we going to walk up there and ask to use their library? After keeping our identities secret and scaling a five mile tall mountain and getting inside the castle on top?"
"Actually I do," said Nalifan. "We're going to go check the base and see if it is in any way volcanic."
"Why?" asked Mikos.
"Lava tubes," said Nalifan. "A natural series of tunnels, ideal for constructing laboratories and storage rooms if one is a powerful wizard. And libraries. And the original owners were powerful wizards."
"And if they don't all connect up or you're wrong?"
"I have this handy spell for phasing through rock," said the drow with a smile. "It's all the rage in the Underdark. Would anyone care to join me?"
Trizkel laughed and the others joined in with him. Riding sedately, the adventurers headed towards the man made mountain and the castle in the clouds.
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
Your cynicism is grating, as usual, but in this instance I happen to agree. Of course, it would be nicer if you were more public spirited in your uses of power as well.
-Kaeryn
How many times to I have to avert catastrophe before I get any credit?
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
I said "more". More, as in you do it but it would be nicer if you did it more often.
-Kaeryn
"How in the name of all of Baator's Hells can that thing be natural?" Syvetria asked. They were all staring at it, an impossible column of earth and rock towering into the sky. "It's the size of a thrice cursed mountain, in the middle of a god's damn plain with nothing like it around."
"Maybe vulcanism," said Nalifan. "Shaped obviously. Or elemental magics from the first. The Achenoi wielded great power in their prime. This would not have been beyond them."
"I guess the perfecti moved in after the Illithids were defeated?" asked Mikos.
"Yes," said Sylvetria. She nudged her horse ahead. Rolling fields of wheat and small orchards were visible as far as the eye could see. A complicated network of irrigation canals fed the fields and a great host of peasants were at work tending the fields. Clusters of huts were grouped next to animal sheds, forming a ring around a larger compound that was the nexus of little village communities.
"Wonder what kind of lords the monks are?" Mikos asked.
"Bad ones," said Sylvetria. "This is rich land. Even if you're blind to the soil you can see its bounty. All this, and good grazing land to, and the farmers live in those little huts? And look at those men over there. The big ones on horses. Overseers. They squeeze for their masters. They're serfs or as close to it as makes no difference."
"Close enough to the way things are run back home," Nalifan said.
"The Dales aren't like that!" said Mikos.
"I meant the Underdark," said Nalifan.
"You've lived in that house how long and it still isn't home?" asked Mikos.
"Years," said Nalifan, "although not as many years as I spent in my mother's home."
"Sometimes I forget how old both of you are," Sylvetria said softly.
"We tend to judge things by familiar standards, those we were taught by whoever raised us," said Nalifan. "All of existence tends to be a bit more complex."
"Do you have a plan?" Sylvetria asked. "Are we going to walk up there and ask to use their library? After keeping our identities secret and scaling a five mile tall mountain and getting inside the castle on top?"
"Actually I do," said Nalifan. "We're going to go check the base and see if it is in any way volcanic."
"Why?" asked Mikos.
"Lava tubes," said Nalifan. "A natural series of tunnels, ideal for constructing laboratories and storage rooms if one is a powerful wizard. And libraries. And the original owners were powerful wizards."
"And if they don't all connect up or you're wrong?"
"I have this handy spell for phasing through rock," said the drow with a smile. "It's all the rage in the Underdark. Would anyone care to join me?"
Trizkel laughed and the others joined in with him. Riding sedately, the adventurers headed towards the man made mountain and the castle in the clouds.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Actually, Kaeryn should have said "When you do it for reasons other than Power, Revenge, or because you 'owe' someone?"How many times to I have to avert catastrophe before I get any credit?
-Nalifan D'Azurentien
I said "more". More, as in you do it but it would be nicer if you did it more often.
-Kaeryn
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet