Nalifan owes the gold favors, not the other way around. The answer is "none."LadyTevar wrote:Other than the Gold... what Dragons owe Nalifan favors?
The Face of My Enemy (Forgotten Realms-Nalifan)
Moderator: LadyTevar
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
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- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
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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.
Another red herring for your readers, then?Imperial Overlord wrote:Nalifan owes the gold favors, not the other way around. The answer is "none."LadyTevar wrote:Other than the Gold... what Dragons owe Nalifan favors?
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
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Teleporting substantial distances through faerzress is commonly thought to be impossible, by those familiar with the subject. This is, however, not true. It is merely extraordinarily difficult and far beyond the abilities of most magi. Most of the time this is a distinction of no significance. This is not one of those times.
The beast rose through the air, its scales a dull red fading to grey in parts. Fungus dotted its armoured hide and in some places scales had fallen away to reveal oozing flesh. Its eyes were dark voids with blue corpselight dancing within. Still, it rose up on tattered wings and opened its jaws. For a moment its carrion reek stench was overpowered by a wash of brimstone as flames erupted from its maw. A war machine and its crew were consumed by the flames as the undead dragon rose higher.
A second undead dragon emerged from the portal of blood red light in front of the Desanna fortress. It's scales were a dark purple, almost black, and its build was more serpentine than that of the bulky red. It beat tattered wings as well and rose into the air. A cloud of dark green acidic vapors blasted forth from its jaws, dissolving the flesh of drow and bugbears clustered on one part of the battlements.
The undead deep dragon landed amongst the dissolving corpses and snatched a bugbear from a nearby tower with its jaws. Bones crunched and blood spurted from dying humanoid before the undead tossed the corpse away with a flick of its head. The defenders scrambled away from the fearsome beast as more distant warriors aimed weapons at them.
Two nightmarish beings of pure darkness walked out of the portal. One was a gaunt humanoid of pure shadow the height of a frost giant. The other was a bipedal toad-beast the size of an ogre but far more graceful. The black slaad was colour of the void and two stars blazed where its eyes should be. It expectorated a gob of pure chaos, which splattered on the Desanna's gate of spell wrought adamantine. The gate began to dissolve.
Four undead beholders, their armour plates marred by fungal growths, floated out of the portal. They were spheres six feet in diameter with a single huge central eye over a gaping maw, crowned by ten sinister eyestalks. They trained their deadly eye rays on the defenders above them as they rose. Beams of light flight flashed. Flesh was ruptured or turned to stone. Others fell screaming and dying or dissolved into a stray motes of light. Sorcery failed under the gaze of their central eyes.
The black slaad smashed through what was left of the main gate as four masses of fire slid out of the gate. Two were propelled by magic high onto the walls of the fortress to burn and kill. The other two slid after the nightwalker and the black slaad.
In the wake of the fire elementals came a pair of air elementals, swirling whirlwinds of destruction, and a pair of nabassu demons that resembled gaunt, humanoid bats. The demons and the air elementals rose into the air and descended on the Desanna fortress. Rock and bodies flew in the wake of the air elementals and the victims of the nabassu's deadly claws and dark magic rose behind their killers as undead slaves.
Nalifan strode through the portal, Fadina at his side. Two massive red-skinned efreeti moved up to flank them. "You are still determined to do this alone?" she asked.
"If I fall, I need an ally who will play the long game," said Nalifan. "If I don't return, everything is yours. Including whatever I have left in the treasury. I can't risk you here."
"Alright," she replied. They stepped away from the gate to allow the last wave through. Two massive glaberzu demons, each more than twice as tall as the drow with four arms and a a dog-like head. Violet light burned in their eye sockets. Behind them were four ogre-sized constructs of reshaped bones. Each had four arms, two that ended in maces and two that ended in scythe blades. The glaberzu clacked their larger pair of arms pincher's impatiently.
She touched his shoulder and power flooded through him. Nalifan twitched and staggered forward. She held him up so he did not fall. His breathing was ragged. "The reigns of my summoned creatures and every spell I can give you," she said. "Win."
He nodded mutely. Fadina retreated into the teleport portal, her face hidden behind her impassive silver mask. Nalifan turned to the efreeti. "Enter the fortress, avoid direct confrontation, pick off the Desanna and their retainers when opportunity presents, and free all prisoners. Go."
The drow then addressed the glaberzu. "Lead the my maulers in. The nightwalker and the slaad shall act as the vanguard." The glaberzu growled, but obeyed. They had been tightly bound, so much so they were little more than extension's of Nalifan's will. Power surged and swirled around the arch-necromancer, more power than even he alone to wield at his height. Above him one of the death tyrants was blown apart by war engines and drow magic. A half dozen rays of deadly magic converged on the killers.
The glabezu walked over the remains of the Desanna's front gate, the mauler's trailing in their wake. Above them and in front of them came the shouts and the screams of the dying. In their wake came Nalifan D'Azurentien, at the height of his powers and with magic lent by another. "Chronomancer, we would both rewrite fate," whispered the arch-necromancer. It is time to see whose will is paramount."
The beast rose through the air, its scales a dull red fading to grey in parts. Fungus dotted its armoured hide and in some places scales had fallen away to reveal oozing flesh. Its eyes were dark voids with blue corpselight dancing within. Still, it rose up on tattered wings and opened its jaws. For a moment its carrion reek stench was overpowered by a wash of brimstone as flames erupted from its maw. A war machine and its crew were consumed by the flames as the undead dragon rose higher.
A second undead dragon emerged from the portal of blood red light in front of the Desanna fortress. It's scales were a dark purple, almost black, and its build was more serpentine than that of the bulky red. It beat tattered wings as well and rose into the air. A cloud of dark green acidic vapors blasted forth from its jaws, dissolving the flesh of drow and bugbears clustered on one part of the battlements.
The undead deep dragon landed amongst the dissolving corpses and snatched a bugbear from a nearby tower with its jaws. Bones crunched and blood spurted from dying humanoid before the undead tossed the corpse away with a flick of its head. The defenders scrambled away from the fearsome beast as more distant warriors aimed weapons at them.
Two nightmarish beings of pure darkness walked out of the portal. One was a gaunt humanoid of pure shadow the height of a frost giant. The other was a bipedal toad-beast the size of an ogre but far more graceful. The black slaad was colour of the void and two stars blazed where its eyes should be. It expectorated a gob of pure chaos, which splattered on the Desanna's gate of spell wrought adamantine. The gate began to dissolve.
Four undead beholders, their armour plates marred by fungal growths, floated out of the portal. They were spheres six feet in diameter with a single huge central eye over a gaping maw, crowned by ten sinister eyestalks. They trained their deadly eye rays on the defenders above them as they rose. Beams of light flight flashed. Flesh was ruptured or turned to stone. Others fell screaming and dying or dissolved into a stray motes of light. Sorcery failed under the gaze of their central eyes.
The black slaad smashed through what was left of the main gate as four masses of fire slid out of the gate. Two were propelled by magic high onto the walls of the fortress to burn and kill. The other two slid after the nightwalker and the black slaad.
In the wake of the fire elementals came a pair of air elementals, swirling whirlwinds of destruction, and a pair of nabassu demons that resembled gaunt, humanoid bats. The demons and the air elementals rose into the air and descended on the Desanna fortress. Rock and bodies flew in the wake of the air elementals and the victims of the nabassu's deadly claws and dark magic rose behind their killers as undead slaves.
Nalifan strode through the portal, Fadina at his side. Two massive red-skinned efreeti moved up to flank them. "You are still determined to do this alone?" she asked.
"If I fall, I need an ally who will play the long game," said Nalifan. "If I don't return, everything is yours. Including whatever I have left in the treasury. I can't risk you here."
"Alright," she replied. They stepped away from the gate to allow the last wave through. Two massive glaberzu demons, each more than twice as tall as the drow with four arms and a a dog-like head. Violet light burned in their eye sockets. Behind them were four ogre-sized constructs of reshaped bones. Each had four arms, two that ended in maces and two that ended in scythe blades. The glaberzu clacked their larger pair of arms pincher's impatiently.
She touched his shoulder and power flooded through him. Nalifan twitched and staggered forward. She held him up so he did not fall. His breathing was ragged. "The reigns of my summoned creatures and every spell I can give you," she said. "Win."
He nodded mutely. Fadina retreated into the teleport portal, her face hidden behind her impassive silver mask. Nalifan turned to the efreeti. "Enter the fortress, avoid direct confrontation, pick off the Desanna and their retainers when opportunity presents, and free all prisoners. Go."
The drow then addressed the glaberzu. "Lead the my maulers in. The nightwalker and the slaad shall act as the vanguard." The glaberzu growled, but obeyed. They had been tightly bound, so much so they were little more than extension's of Nalifan's will. Power surged and swirled around the arch-necromancer, more power than even he alone to wield at his height. Above him one of the death tyrants was blown apart by war engines and drow magic. A half dozen rays of deadly magic converged on the killers.
The glabezu walked over the remains of the Desanna's front gate, the mauler's trailing in their wake. Above them and in front of them came the shouts and the screams of the dying. In their wake came Nalifan D'Azurentien, at the height of his powers and with magic lent by another. "Chronomancer, we would both rewrite fate," whispered the arch-necromancer. It is time to see whose will is paramount."
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2008-06-11 09:35pm, 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.
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Imperial Overlord
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Shelarn watch the undead dragon rise up on the beats of tattered wings. Patches of scales had sloughed off or been blasted of the dragon's body, revealing gray, decaying flesh beneath. Four large bolts pierced the undead's body, but did little to hinder the dragon. There was a gargling sound, vaguely like that of a boiling kettle but a hundred times louder. A stream of fire erupted from the dragon's maw and consumed a ballista and its bugbear crew.
Four engines fired globes of green glass. Two missed to impact somewhere in the city below. The other two struck the dragon and burst. Green fire ran over the the dragon's scales and dripped of its body. Where it found gaps in the dragon's armour it dissolved flesh and pooled, burning holes through the dragon's undead flesh.
A half dozen silvery bolts slammed into the dragon, blasting more scales loose and lacerating flesh. Brackish blood oozed from the wounds. One was dripping liquid green, indicating that some of the flame had managed to burn all the way through the dragon's torso. The red continued to climb, sweeping one battlement clear with a swipe of its tail. Its eyes fell on Shelarn.
"I am drow," the wizard whispered to himself and then began his most potent spell as the dragon reared in air above him. Fires were burning in a dozen places. At least one air and one fire elemental were in the fortress itself, killing and destroying. A pair of beholders still survived. As did the dragons. The red's head descended towards the drow wizard like a striking snake.
Shelarn finished his spell. A beam of jade light shot forth, striking the dragon in its chests. Scales and muscles dissolved, revealing bones coated in black filth. Jaws clashed shut a yard from the drow's face as the dragons dissolved into a cloud of green glowing motes and then was gone. He shuddered with relief.
A scarlet beam struck him in the back of the neck blood blasted out the hole in the front. Shelarn fell, never seeing the beholder that killed him.
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Household retainers and bloodkin of Desanna swirled around Shaharith as the Dread Queen stalked her halls. A yard wide crystal globe rotated in front of her, displaying the carnage that was taking place on the outer walls. "Lolth's fangs!" she swore. "How many engines have we lost? No, that wasn't actually a question fool!"
"The attackers have breached the castle in at least three places," said Relshan, one her most capable arcanists and a distant nephew. He was a small, plainly dressed male. "Twice in the upper regions and the main gate. A black slaad leads the assault through the gates. At least one beholder is inside the upper towers."
"Where is Wither?" she shouted.
"Here," said the worm that walks, materializing from a patch of shadow. "The attack was much, much worse in the original timeline. We are doing quite well."
"To all the Hells of Baator with that," said the Dread Queen. "Your spells had better work!"
"You know they do. You had ample opportunity to test them yourself. I suggest you concentrate on defeating Nalifan's forces."
"We can ignore neither of them," said Tasseen. "If either pierces the way to our dungeons, Nalifan will withdraw with his prize. If they are ignored or met with insufficient force, they will continue to devastate their way down and flank the main force. He's forcing us to split our forces, so when he attacks he'll face only a portion of our might."
"She's right," said Arensur, one of Shaharith's consorts. "Majesty, the beholders are undead. A poisoned crossbow bolt will not suffice and besides, they will not be alone."
"Take the Reavers and every male you can find on your way up and destroy them," Shaharith commanded her consort.
"Your will," said Arensur and became a barely visible blur as he ran away at impossible speeds. Shaharith turned towards Elvarra. "The constructs and guards are slowing the lower party down. Take command of them and kill the attackers. I want your lover's head on a pike."
"As you command mother." She ran off.
"My queen," said Relshan, "your will is law, but-"
"Yes, they are likely to fail and die if they confront the main thrust, the one that Nalifan is with. In doing so they will buy us time to organize and gather our forces. Now wizard, bring our bound demons to attend to us. We shall need all of Desanna's strength."
Four engines fired globes of green glass. Two missed to impact somewhere in the city below. The other two struck the dragon and burst. Green fire ran over the the dragon's scales and dripped of its body. Where it found gaps in the dragon's armour it dissolved flesh and pooled, burning holes through the dragon's undead flesh.
A half dozen silvery bolts slammed into the dragon, blasting more scales loose and lacerating flesh. Brackish blood oozed from the wounds. One was dripping liquid green, indicating that some of the flame had managed to burn all the way through the dragon's torso. The red continued to climb, sweeping one battlement clear with a swipe of its tail. Its eyes fell on Shelarn.
"I am drow," the wizard whispered to himself and then began his most potent spell as the dragon reared in air above him. Fires were burning in a dozen places. At least one air and one fire elemental were in the fortress itself, killing and destroying. A pair of beholders still survived. As did the dragons. The red's head descended towards the drow wizard like a striking snake.
Shelarn finished his spell. A beam of jade light shot forth, striking the dragon in its chests. Scales and muscles dissolved, revealing bones coated in black filth. Jaws clashed shut a yard from the drow's face as the dragons dissolved into a cloud of green glowing motes and then was gone. He shuddered with relief.
A scarlet beam struck him in the back of the neck blood blasted out the hole in the front. Shelarn fell, never seeing the beholder that killed him.
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Household retainers and bloodkin of Desanna swirled around Shaharith as the Dread Queen stalked her halls. A yard wide crystal globe rotated in front of her, displaying the carnage that was taking place on the outer walls. "Lolth's fangs!" she swore. "How many engines have we lost? No, that wasn't actually a question fool!"
"The attackers have breached the castle in at least three places," said Relshan, one her most capable arcanists and a distant nephew. He was a small, plainly dressed male. "Twice in the upper regions and the main gate. A black slaad leads the assault through the gates. At least one beholder is inside the upper towers."
"Where is Wither?" she shouted.
"Here," said the worm that walks, materializing from a patch of shadow. "The attack was much, much worse in the original timeline. We are doing quite well."
"To all the Hells of Baator with that," said the Dread Queen. "Your spells had better work!"
"You know they do. You had ample opportunity to test them yourself. I suggest you concentrate on defeating Nalifan's forces."
"We can ignore neither of them," said Tasseen. "If either pierces the way to our dungeons, Nalifan will withdraw with his prize. If they are ignored or met with insufficient force, they will continue to devastate their way down and flank the main force. He's forcing us to split our forces, so when he attacks he'll face only a portion of our might."
"She's right," said Arensur, one of Shaharith's consorts. "Majesty, the beholders are undead. A poisoned crossbow bolt will not suffice and besides, they will not be alone."
"Take the Reavers and every male you can find on your way up and destroy them," Shaharith commanded her consort.
"Your will," said Arensur and became a barely visible blur as he ran away at impossible speeds. Shaharith turned towards Elvarra. "The constructs and guards are slowing the lower party down. Take command of them and kill the attackers. I want your lover's head on a pike."
"As you command mother." She ran off.
"My queen," said Relshan, "your will is law, but-"
"Yes, they are likely to fail and die if they confront the main thrust, the one that Nalifan is with. In doing so they will buy us time to organize and gather our forces. Now wizard, bring our bound demons to attend to us. We shall need all of Desanna's strength."
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.
She doesn't care if Elvarra or her mate die, because they aren't that important.
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
The black slaad pulled a ballista bolt out of its shoulder and the wound began to close immediately. Around it were shattered constructs and slain war slaves. Trolls could survive being pulped and torn asunder thanks to their amazing regenerative powers, but entropy undid even their flesh as it did all matter. The war machines that had wounded it were even now bubbling and collapsing into a slimy waste. It hoped forward, an unnaturally fast black mass. Blink and you might think it teleported from place to place.
Behind the black slaad came the nightwalker, implacable and unstoppable. The undead was only slightly more vulnerable than the slaad and it had even less mercy. The chill of the grave surrounded it, but that did not hinder the undead warriors Nalifan had sent with it. The glaberzu demons clicked their claws in unease. Even they, with all their mystic might, feared the nightwalker and the slaad.
The slaad passed a deserted corridor junction and the glaberzu leapt at the chance to abandon the offensive. They could not disobey the orders to slay the Desanna and try to liberate the prisoners, but they could change tactics. They became invisible and stalked the lower levels as the nabassu and the efreeti stalked the corridors above them. Behind them came the dreadful four armed bone constructs.
Nalifan smiled as the demons left the front lines. Chaos served him. The Desanna had to stop every avenue of attack, because the one they did not stop would be the route that he would take. The blood of slaves and victims would join that of the drow on the floors of the castle as his minions slew and the Desanna did not know which way that he came.
There was still the little matter of having sufficient forces when he made his move. He opened a small pouch and two clouds of darkness poured out. They swirled with a score of forms straining to get out and glared at him with hell red eyes.
"Defend me," he commanded the dread wraiths and the mighty undead, forged from the deaths of dozens, could do not but obey. "Take up a position six yards in front of me." The seething clouds of darkness drifted ahead of him. He had yet to expend a single spell.
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The nabassu dipped its tusked muzzle into the human's chest and bite out its heart, tearing it from the dying man's chest and devouring it in great gulp. The demon reared up from the corpse as the human's heart slid down its gullet. Its great talons should have clicked on the floor, but they did not. The nabassu moved with enough stealth that the greatest of human assassins could only envy.
A dozen new ghoul slaves were rampaging through the nearby corridors. The nabassu's orders were clear and its bindings were potent. It had to descend to the heart of the Desanna fortress, killing as it went. It savored the taste of the blood and souls and relished taking new slaves, but it could not tarry killing slaves for sport. It had to move on.
The bat-like demon stalked down the spiral staircase. A red-hot razor of pain ripped through its throat, severing its spine and opening its arteries. Black blood spilled forth in smoking streams as the drow assassin detached himself from the ceiling where he had hidden. The nabassu's head twitched as its life spilled out over the steps. The assassin smiled and looked up into the very dead face of a bugbear war slave.
The ghoul swung its talons at the drow's face. The assassin ducked and ran, racing down the steps. Heat hit him like a hammer. He kept going. The corridor leading out of the tower was engulfed in flame. Damned elementals. He dropped down another floor, blade in hand. Running away in his house's own castle. This was some seriously screwed up shit.
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What in the name of the goddess was she doing? Taking on Nalifan's minions head on, with him behind them, with only a fraction of Desanna's strength? Yes, her only goal here was to strip him of his battle fodder so he would be easier prey and yes that meant she didn't have to destroy his servants and then take him head to head, but it could still easily get her killed. And for what reward?
No, Lolth take that plan. She wasn't going to die so her sisters could gloat over her corpse. She had to play this one smart. Let others do the dying so she could get her hits in and evade and escape.
She spun in place. Behind her were two stone statues the size of ogres, a pair of elephantine steel spiders, a half dozen trolls and a score of elite drow. "Captain Tilshay," she said.
A gaunt looking woman, her muscles steel ropes over her bones, stepped forward. Tilshay was half a head taller than Elvarra and had killed bugbears with her bare hands. The black mithril plate gave her the freedom of movement needed to strike swiftly with blade and spell while protecting her from almost all harm. Elvarra had no illusions that the woman would last against the black slaad. "Your will, revered daughter."
"Engage the vanguard with constructs and expendables. Keep their attention. I will attack them from the flank and destroy them."
"As you command mistress," said the drow captain, ringing her gauntlet off her breastplate. The orders gave her a chance to survive and for that she was not ungrateful.
"Go," said Elvarra. She swiftly darted along a side corridor, heading for a staircase. This plan was slightly safer than what her mother had in mind. She needed a way out of this mess. She swept around the corner and vaulted up the stairs, or at least she intended to. The drow sorceress bounced off an invisible column of flesh and fell back on her backside, sprawling on the corridor.
The the midnight blue flesh of the two glaberzu phased back into visibility. The fifteen foot tall demons extended the pincers of their outer arms toward her as the clawed hands of their inner arms worked their Weave and their eyes shown like violet stars with barely restrained power.
"Lolth's fangs," Elvarra swore and then they were upon her.
Behind the black slaad came the nightwalker, implacable and unstoppable. The undead was only slightly more vulnerable than the slaad and it had even less mercy. The chill of the grave surrounded it, but that did not hinder the undead warriors Nalifan had sent with it. The glaberzu demons clicked their claws in unease. Even they, with all their mystic might, feared the nightwalker and the slaad.
The slaad passed a deserted corridor junction and the glaberzu leapt at the chance to abandon the offensive. They could not disobey the orders to slay the Desanna and try to liberate the prisoners, but they could change tactics. They became invisible and stalked the lower levels as the nabassu and the efreeti stalked the corridors above them. Behind them came the dreadful four armed bone constructs.
Nalifan smiled as the demons left the front lines. Chaos served him. The Desanna had to stop every avenue of attack, because the one they did not stop would be the route that he would take. The blood of slaves and victims would join that of the drow on the floors of the castle as his minions slew and the Desanna did not know which way that he came.
There was still the little matter of having sufficient forces when he made his move. He opened a small pouch and two clouds of darkness poured out. They swirled with a score of forms straining to get out and glared at him with hell red eyes.
"Defend me," he commanded the dread wraiths and the mighty undead, forged from the deaths of dozens, could do not but obey. "Take up a position six yards in front of me." The seething clouds of darkness drifted ahead of him. He had yet to expend a single spell.
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The nabassu dipped its tusked muzzle into the human's chest and bite out its heart, tearing it from the dying man's chest and devouring it in great gulp. The demon reared up from the corpse as the human's heart slid down its gullet. Its great talons should have clicked on the floor, but they did not. The nabassu moved with enough stealth that the greatest of human assassins could only envy.
A dozen new ghoul slaves were rampaging through the nearby corridors. The nabassu's orders were clear and its bindings were potent. It had to descend to the heart of the Desanna fortress, killing as it went. It savored the taste of the blood and souls and relished taking new slaves, but it could not tarry killing slaves for sport. It had to move on.
The bat-like demon stalked down the spiral staircase. A red-hot razor of pain ripped through its throat, severing its spine and opening its arteries. Black blood spilled forth in smoking streams as the drow assassin detached himself from the ceiling where he had hidden. The nabassu's head twitched as its life spilled out over the steps. The assassin smiled and looked up into the very dead face of a bugbear war slave.
The ghoul swung its talons at the drow's face. The assassin ducked and ran, racing down the steps. Heat hit him like a hammer. He kept going. The corridor leading out of the tower was engulfed in flame. Damned elementals. He dropped down another floor, blade in hand. Running away in his house's own castle. This was some seriously screwed up shit.
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What in the name of the goddess was she doing? Taking on Nalifan's minions head on, with him behind them, with only a fraction of Desanna's strength? Yes, her only goal here was to strip him of his battle fodder so he would be easier prey and yes that meant she didn't have to destroy his servants and then take him head to head, but it could still easily get her killed. And for what reward?
No, Lolth take that plan. She wasn't going to die so her sisters could gloat over her corpse. She had to play this one smart. Let others do the dying so she could get her hits in and evade and escape.
She spun in place. Behind her were two stone statues the size of ogres, a pair of elephantine steel spiders, a half dozen trolls and a score of elite drow. "Captain Tilshay," she said.
A gaunt looking woman, her muscles steel ropes over her bones, stepped forward. Tilshay was half a head taller than Elvarra and had killed bugbears with her bare hands. The black mithril plate gave her the freedom of movement needed to strike swiftly with blade and spell while protecting her from almost all harm. Elvarra had no illusions that the woman would last against the black slaad. "Your will, revered daughter."
"Engage the vanguard with constructs and expendables. Keep their attention. I will attack them from the flank and destroy them."
"As you command mistress," said the drow captain, ringing her gauntlet off her breastplate. The orders gave her a chance to survive and for that she was not ungrateful.
"Go," said Elvarra. She swiftly darted along a side corridor, heading for a staircase. This plan was slightly safer than what her mother had in mind. She needed a way out of this mess. She swept around the corner and vaulted up the stairs, or at least she intended to. The drow sorceress bounced off an invisible column of flesh and fell back on her backside, sprawling on the corridor.
The the midnight blue flesh of the two glaberzu phased back into visibility. The fifteen foot tall demons extended the pincers of their outer arms toward her as the clawed hands of their inner arms worked their Weave and their eyes shown like violet stars with barely restrained power.
"Lolth's fangs," Elvarra swore and then they were upon her.
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
The lead glaberzu reached for Elvarra with its left pincher hand. She extended a hand and shouted a word. Silver fire streamed from her hand, engulfing the demon and scorching its flesh. It lurched back, howling in agony as the fire consumed its skin and ate at its muscles. Incredibly, the creature did not fall, a testimony to its unholy vitality.
The other glaberzu spoke a word of power and sent the sorceress lolling backwards. Its claw closed just below her shoulders, pinning her hands to her side. Warding runes flashed violet and silver in the air as the glaberzu squeezed and drow magic warred with Abyssal might. It raised her up and opened its maw to devour Elvarra head first.
Robes of thick, green saliva slid off Elvarra's face as she was thrust into the demon's maw. The jaws closed as she shouted a word. Her eyes burned like golden suns and the demon exploded into ash, sending down to the hard stone floor.
She landed on her feet and fell forward onto her hands. Elvarra's wards took the worst of the shock. Then the other glaberzu kicked her in the chest and bounced her off the wall. She half-bounced, half rolled away from the wall, trying to regain her bearings. Her wards had saved her from broken bones and ruptured organs, but she was still shook up from the attack.
The glaberzu loomed over and stomped on her chest. Wards discharged in a blast of violent ghost-fire. The floor beneath her cracked. She spat up bright blood and a five terrible syllables. Jade light flashed and the clear glass statue of a glaberzu demon fell backwards and exploded into a million pieces.
The maulers advanced, ogre sized constructs of bone and black necromancy, each of their four arms ending in scythe or a mace. Elvarra shouted another phrase and the corridor was filled with fire.
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The black slaad tossed the top half of Captain Tilshay's body one way and the bottom half the other. Some of her entrails spilled on the floor, which was now filthy with the blood and body fluids of a score of dead drow. Shattered constructs and dead war slaves formed a trail of carnage behind the slaad. A half dozen of the dead shuffled behind the nightwalker, undead recruits pressed into Nalilfan's service.
A pair of great oak doors set with silver stood before the slaad. Its eyes flared and the doors exploded inward, leaving only pieces of wood attached to the hinges. A flame shrouded nightmare stepped out.
He was known on a score of worlds. On one he was the personification of cataclysm and destruction. The Desanna had swelled his power with blood and souls and offerings of sorcery. Even among his kindred his might was feared. Summoners knew him by the name Harbringer of Sorrow. Murder was his sport, torment was his pleasure, and devastation his legacy.
The remnants of the door burned as the balor moved into the halls. Tapestries were set alight before his flame aura touched them. His monstrous horned head nearly scrapped the sealing. His wings were folded against his back. His eyes were pits of eternal darkness that examined the world with a pitiless stare. Stone cracked under his cloven hooves.
The black slaad's eyes flared again as it unleashed forces upon the Harbringer of Sorrow which would tear the flesh off a storm giant. It shrugged off the slaad's killing stroke as well as the nightwalker's killing magic. Black lightning crackled around its hands, joining to form a mote of raw destructive power between them.
The balor unleashed the power. The walls near the slaad cracked and the tapestries withered. The slaad staggered for a moment as the dark magic struck it and then passed over. The nightwalker convulsed and shrunk within itself and then exploded, pelting the walls and floors with pieces of shadow that vanished like snow in forge.
The slaad closed with the balor. The Harbringer stepped forward to meet it, drawing forth a great sword of jagged metal from the air. The blade pierced the slaad's left shoulder and exited out the back in a spray of red blood.
The slaad bit down on the Harbringer's forearm, piercing its unholy flesh and infecting it with its chaos spittle. The demon gripped the slaad's head with its left hand and let go of its sword. With its customary cruelty, the talon on the Harbringer of Sorrow's left hand found the slaad's eye and gouged. The slaad snarled and raked the demon's legs with its foot-talons.
The Harbringer of Sorrow forced the smaller slaad down and raised its right foot. The slaad's skin was crisping and peeling under the onslaught of the balor's body flames, but it did not otherwise seem adversely affected. The balor pushed its hoof into the slaad's belly and pinned it to the floor while yanking its arm free in a welter of smoking black blood.
The Harbringer of Sorrow was pained by the injury, but the chaos saliva did it little harm. It had arisen from the Abyss, the primal source of chaos that everything decent had abandoned at the beginning of the multiverse. Primal chaos was something much less harmful to the Harbringer of Sorrow than other creatures.
The slaad reached out and slammed the balor's leg, loosening its pin enough for the black slaad to wiggle out. It sprung up and at the demon, scythe-like claws extended. The Harbringer of Sorrow smashed it in the side of the head and it rebounded off the wall. A whip of flame and barbed adamantine wire appeared in the balor's left hand.
The whip lashed out, entangling the slaad's legs and with a yank the Harbringer pulled the slaad off of its feet. Its hoof came down again and its drew its sword from the slaad's shoulder as the black slaad tore itself free from the whip. The slaad leapt at the demon's neck.
The black slaad's head left it shoulders in a gout of blood as the Harbringer of Sorrow's blade continued its sweep. The demon stepped over the slaad's corpse, igniting it as it dissolved into a chaotic mix of fluids. It had no interest in the corpses of the defeated, its prey was in sight.
Two shadowy wraiths proceeded a human sized figure encased in elaborate set of cerulean plate armour. The Harbringer's eyes beheld the armour of force planes and defensive runes encasing the arch-necromancer and the power granted to him by the Crown of Sorcery. The Desanna would have many sacrifices to make before they could again call on him might and Lolth would have to pay dearly if she wanted to taste the sweet meat of his soul. He cracked his whip and called upon the full might of the inferno. As pleasing as it might be, this one was too dangerous to toy with.
The other glaberzu spoke a word of power and sent the sorceress lolling backwards. Its claw closed just below her shoulders, pinning her hands to her side. Warding runes flashed violet and silver in the air as the glaberzu squeezed and drow magic warred with Abyssal might. It raised her up and opened its maw to devour Elvarra head first.
Robes of thick, green saliva slid off Elvarra's face as she was thrust into the demon's maw. The jaws closed as she shouted a word. Her eyes burned like golden suns and the demon exploded into ash, sending down to the hard stone floor.
She landed on her feet and fell forward onto her hands. Elvarra's wards took the worst of the shock. Then the other glaberzu kicked her in the chest and bounced her off the wall. She half-bounced, half rolled away from the wall, trying to regain her bearings. Her wards had saved her from broken bones and ruptured organs, but she was still shook up from the attack.
The glaberzu loomed over and stomped on her chest. Wards discharged in a blast of violent ghost-fire. The floor beneath her cracked. She spat up bright blood and a five terrible syllables. Jade light flashed and the clear glass statue of a glaberzu demon fell backwards and exploded into a million pieces.
The maulers advanced, ogre sized constructs of bone and black necromancy, each of their four arms ending in scythe or a mace. Elvarra shouted another phrase and the corridor was filled with fire.
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The black slaad tossed the top half of Captain Tilshay's body one way and the bottom half the other. Some of her entrails spilled on the floor, which was now filthy with the blood and body fluids of a score of dead drow. Shattered constructs and dead war slaves formed a trail of carnage behind the slaad. A half dozen of the dead shuffled behind the nightwalker, undead recruits pressed into Nalilfan's service.
A pair of great oak doors set with silver stood before the slaad. Its eyes flared and the doors exploded inward, leaving only pieces of wood attached to the hinges. A flame shrouded nightmare stepped out.
He was known on a score of worlds. On one he was the personification of cataclysm and destruction. The Desanna had swelled his power with blood and souls and offerings of sorcery. Even among his kindred his might was feared. Summoners knew him by the name Harbringer of Sorrow. Murder was his sport, torment was his pleasure, and devastation his legacy.
The remnants of the door burned as the balor moved into the halls. Tapestries were set alight before his flame aura touched them. His monstrous horned head nearly scrapped the sealing. His wings were folded against his back. His eyes were pits of eternal darkness that examined the world with a pitiless stare. Stone cracked under his cloven hooves.
The black slaad's eyes flared again as it unleashed forces upon the Harbringer of Sorrow which would tear the flesh off a storm giant. It shrugged off the slaad's killing stroke as well as the nightwalker's killing magic. Black lightning crackled around its hands, joining to form a mote of raw destructive power between them.
The balor unleashed the power. The walls near the slaad cracked and the tapestries withered. The slaad staggered for a moment as the dark magic struck it and then passed over. The nightwalker convulsed and shrunk within itself and then exploded, pelting the walls and floors with pieces of shadow that vanished like snow in forge.
The slaad closed with the balor. The Harbringer stepped forward to meet it, drawing forth a great sword of jagged metal from the air. The blade pierced the slaad's left shoulder and exited out the back in a spray of red blood.
The slaad bit down on the Harbringer's forearm, piercing its unholy flesh and infecting it with its chaos spittle. The demon gripped the slaad's head with its left hand and let go of its sword. With its customary cruelty, the talon on the Harbringer of Sorrow's left hand found the slaad's eye and gouged. The slaad snarled and raked the demon's legs with its foot-talons.
The Harbringer of Sorrow forced the smaller slaad down and raised its right foot. The slaad's skin was crisping and peeling under the onslaught of the balor's body flames, but it did not otherwise seem adversely affected. The balor pushed its hoof into the slaad's belly and pinned it to the floor while yanking its arm free in a welter of smoking black blood.
The Harbringer of Sorrow was pained by the injury, but the chaos saliva did it little harm. It had arisen from the Abyss, the primal source of chaos that everything decent had abandoned at the beginning of the multiverse. Primal chaos was something much less harmful to the Harbringer of Sorrow than other creatures.
The slaad reached out and slammed the balor's leg, loosening its pin enough for the black slaad to wiggle out. It sprung up and at the demon, scythe-like claws extended. The Harbringer of Sorrow smashed it in the side of the head and it rebounded off the wall. A whip of flame and barbed adamantine wire appeared in the balor's left hand.
The whip lashed out, entangling the slaad's legs and with a yank the Harbringer pulled the slaad off of its feet. Its hoof came down again and its drew its sword from the slaad's shoulder as the black slaad tore itself free from the whip. The slaad leapt at the demon's neck.
The black slaad's head left it shoulders in a gout of blood as the Harbringer of Sorrow's blade continued its sweep. The demon stepped over the slaad's corpse, igniting it as it dissolved into a chaotic mix of fluids. It had no interest in the corpses of the defeated, its prey was in sight.
Two shadowy wraiths proceeded a human sized figure encased in elaborate set of cerulean plate armour. The Harbringer's eyes beheld the armour of force planes and defensive runes encasing the arch-necromancer and the power granted to him by the Crown of Sorcery. The Desanna would have many sacrifices to make before they could again call on him might and Lolth would have to pay dearly if she wanted to taste the sweet meat of his soul. He cracked his whip and called upon the full might of the inferno. As pleasing as it might be, this one was too dangerous to toy with.
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
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Arensur motioned his warriors away from the fire filled corridor. "The beholder will have to come this way. It doesn't want to burn either."
"How are we going to stop an undead beholder without a priestess?" asked Henoth. The scared veteran was one of Desanna's most capable warriors. "Poison won't work, no siege engines, and head to head is suicide. It's central eye-"
"I know the problems," said Arensur. "We're going to be clever. Yesin, take point. You're on watch. I'll need to know when the beholder is coming." The young drow shivered, but nodded. "Go!" he commanded. Yesin ran to the end of the corridor. "Malinzen, I'll need your teleport spell."
"Where to?" asked the middle aged and slightly portly wizard.
"Behind it. Outside of fireball blast range but in line of sight. I'm the target."
"Clever," said the wizard. "Risky."
"You want to take it head on?"
"Lolth no."
"The rest of you, cut it to pieces once I've burned off its eyestalks." The score of drow nodded. A shriek announced Yesin's fall. The drow's flesh was already putrefying.
"Far end, just around the corner," said Malinzen.
"Go," commanded Arensur. Malizen intoned the spell ans Arensur vanished and reappeared, a killing spell on his lips. The grey-green body of the undead beholder filled his vision as it glided down the corridor. Two eyestalks with red, cat-slitted eyes leaking puss swiveled towards him.
A scarlet beam missed him by inches, gouging a hole in the wall behind him as he unleashed his own magic. A sphere of orange flame shot from his hand and detonated when it struck the beholder. A dark shape was dimly visible in the mass of flames as heat blasted back up the corridor, striking the drow like a physical blow.
The flames died down and the heat began to fade. Drow charged the charred and blackened beholder, contemptuous of its seared off eyestalks. They slicing open its armoured hide and began cutting its flesh to pieces. Arensur smiled and then gasped in agony.
The efreeti behind him ripped his huge blade out of the dying drow. "You forgot to check what might be traveling in the beholder's wake, little drow," the red skinned genie said with a laugh. He vanished and began stalking his next victim.
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The Harbringer of Sorrow lashed its whip and sent a wave of flame rushing down the corridor at Nalifan. Blood boiled away, steel melted, flagstones cracked, and corpses turned to ash as the demonic flames rushed over them and sped towards Nalifan. The fire hit the arch-necromancer and passed over him, consuming both dread wraiths and leaving nothing of them behind. The blue glow of his spell armour faded somewhat.
The drow extended his hands as he finished the spell he had been whispering. Harsh blue-white light descended from another realm and pinned the balor in place like an unearthly spotlight. The Harbringer of Sorrow's body flames died.
The stones around the balor ceased to glow a dull read. Frost began to form on them. With a sound like a falling tower they cracked under the stress of the rapid temperature change. Patches of ice formed on the balor's skin. Frost began to cover the corridor.
The demon roared, exhaling a cloud of mist which fell to the floor as tiny ice crystals and shattered. The Harbringer's jaw froze open. A layer of ice now completely covered the demon's body. The frost advanced to Nalifan's feet. The deadly light grew brighter.
The balor's body was bone-white and now entirely encased in ice. Golden light flared, brighter than that of Nalifan's killing spell. The drow ceased to channel the deadly spell as fiery heat smote the corridor and raged against unearthly cold. Already overstressed rocks exploded as the Harbringer of Sorrows death knell consumed a part of the Desanna castle.
The ceiling collapsed over where the Harbringer had stood and much of the floor above. Pieces of stone and the bodies of the dying fell and joined the mound of rubble. Nalifan's armour went from opaque to translucent.
The arch-necromancer waited a minute for the debris to stop falling and then drifted over the pile of rubble. He could sense many enemies waiting for him in the chamber beyond, although their numbers were much reduced. It would have to do. His defences were still strong and he still possessed enough magic to lay waste to them all. It would not be an easy battle, but he was ready for it.
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Elvarra coughed up more blood as she reached for another healing potion. Her hands were clumsy, slick with her own blood. She managed to get the top off and raised it too her lips. She chocked as she downed the sticky, too sweet fluid. She managed to get it down and keep it down.
She rose to her feet. She was already feeling better. The pain in her chest was fading the the bloody coughs no longer racked her body. Then the castle shook with a huge explosion and she lost her footing.
She caught herself against the walls. Gods and goddesses, this was going to get her killed without even getting sight of Nal, let alone killing him. And for what? No prize for her and a future as a third tier daughter. Life would be her prize.
"The first rule is that everyone comes back alive," she whispered. "No matter what happens or how it has to happen." No matter what. No matter how. Forgiveness might be on the cards. Mercy. High magic. She would have committed the ultimate betrayal to side with them. It might happen. It could happen.
It would happen. She gathered her power and sped through the halls of the dying castle as a black and silver sorcerously accelerated blur. She had to reach the dungeons in time. With Trizkel and the rest free, the balance of power would shift and victory could be theirs. It would be theirs.
"How are we going to stop an undead beholder without a priestess?" asked Henoth. The scared veteran was one of Desanna's most capable warriors. "Poison won't work, no siege engines, and head to head is suicide. It's central eye-"
"I know the problems," said Arensur. "We're going to be clever. Yesin, take point. You're on watch. I'll need to know when the beholder is coming." The young drow shivered, but nodded. "Go!" he commanded. Yesin ran to the end of the corridor. "Malinzen, I'll need your teleport spell."
"Where to?" asked the middle aged and slightly portly wizard.
"Behind it. Outside of fireball blast range but in line of sight. I'm the target."
"Clever," said the wizard. "Risky."
"You want to take it head on?"
"Lolth no."
"The rest of you, cut it to pieces once I've burned off its eyestalks." The score of drow nodded. A shriek announced Yesin's fall. The drow's flesh was already putrefying.
"Far end, just around the corner," said Malinzen.
"Go," commanded Arensur. Malizen intoned the spell ans Arensur vanished and reappeared, a killing spell on his lips. The grey-green body of the undead beholder filled his vision as it glided down the corridor. Two eyestalks with red, cat-slitted eyes leaking puss swiveled towards him.
A scarlet beam missed him by inches, gouging a hole in the wall behind him as he unleashed his own magic. A sphere of orange flame shot from his hand and detonated when it struck the beholder. A dark shape was dimly visible in the mass of flames as heat blasted back up the corridor, striking the drow like a physical blow.
The flames died down and the heat began to fade. Drow charged the charred and blackened beholder, contemptuous of its seared off eyestalks. They slicing open its armoured hide and began cutting its flesh to pieces. Arensur smiled and then gasped in agony.
The efreeti behind him ripped his huge blade out of the dying drow. "You forgot to check what might be traveling in the beholder's wake, little drow," the red skinned genie said with a laugh. He vanished and began stalking his next victim.
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The Harbringer of Sorrow lashed its whip and sent a wave of flame rushing down the corridor at Nalifan. Blood boiled away, steel melted, flagstones cracked, and corpses turned to ash as the demonic flames rushed over them and sped towards Nalifan. The fire hit the arch-necromancer and passed over him, consuming both dread wraiths and leaving nothing of them behind. The blue glow of his spell armour faded somewhat.
The drow extended his hands as he finished the spell he had been whispering. Harsh blue-white light descended from another realm and pinned the balor in place like an unearthly spotlight. The Harbringer of Sorrow's body flames died.
The stones around the balor ceased to glow a dull read. Frost began to form on them. With a sound like a falling tower they cracked under the stress of the rapid temperature change. Patches of ice formed on the balor's skin. Frost began to cover the corridor.
The demon roared, exhaling a cloud of mist which fell to the floor as tiny ice crystals and shattered. The Harbringer's jaw froze open. A layer of ice now completely covered the demon's body. The frost advanced to Nalifan's feet. The deadly light grew brighter.
The balor's body was bone-white and now entirely encased in ice. Golden light flared, brighter than that of Nalifan's killing spell. The drow ceased to channel the deadly spell as fiery heat smote the corridor and raged against unearthly cold. Already overstressed rocks exploded as the Harbringer of Sorrows death knell consumed a part of the Desanna castle.
The ceiling collapsed over where the Harbringer had stood and much of the floor above. Pieces of stone and the bodies of the dying fell and joined the mound of rubble. Nalifan's armour went from opaque to translucent.
The arch-necromancer waited a minute for the debris to stop falling and then drifted over the pile of rubble. He could sense many enemies waiting for him in the chamber beyond, although their numbers were much reduced. It would have to do. His defences were still strong and he still possessed enough magic to lay waste to them all. It would not be an easy battle, but he was ready for it.
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Elvarra coughed up more blood as she reached for another healing potion. Her hands were clumsy, slick with her own blood. She managed to get the top off and raised it too her lips. She chocked as she downed the sticky, too sweet fluid. She managed to get it down and keep it down.
She rose to her feet. She was already feeling better. The pain in her chest was fading the the bloody coughs no longer racked her body. Then the castle shook with a huge explosion and she lost her footing.
She caught herself against the walls. Gods and goddesses, this was going to get her killed without even getting sight of Nal, let alone killing him. And for what? No prize for her and a future as a third tier daughter. Life would be her prize.
"The first rule is that everyone comes back alive," she whispered. "No matter what happens or how it has to happen." No matter what. No matter how. Forgiveness might be on the cards. Mercy. High magic. She would have committed the ultimate betrayal to side with them. It might happen. It could happen.
It would happen. She gathered her power and sped through the halls of the dying castle as a black and silver sorcerously accelerated blur. She had to reach the dungeons in time. With Trizkel and the rest free, the balance of power would shift and victory could be theirs. It would be theirs.
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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Brain_Caster
- Youngling
- Posts: 120
- Joined: 2005-04-27 02:45pm
So Elvarra does make the right decision after all.
Hmm... I think I might have figured it out now. Crazy conspiracy theory follows in smallest size and background color, just in case I'm right
Wither told Elvarra (s)he went back in time to "change my choices". Not to change the past directly. If my theory is correct, and Wither is actually Elvarra, not Nalifan or some enemy of his, those very words might have been the act of changing her choices - indirectly, by making her past self realize that she's fighting on the wrong side - and thereby altering the past without having to interfere in the fighting personally (which would probably make her too much of an Inevitable-magnet to have a chance of achieving anything).
I could be completely wrong, of course...
By the way, what did Nalifan use to dispose of that Balor?
Hmm... I think I might have figured it out now. Crazy conspiracy theory follows in smallest size and background color, just in case I'm right
Wither told Elvarra (s)he went back in time to "change my choices". Not to change the past directly. If my theory is correct, and Wither is actually Elvarra, not Nalifan or some enemy of his, those very words might have been the act of changing her choices - indirectly, by making her past self realize that she's fighting on the wrong side - and thereby altering the past without having to interfere in the fighting personally (which would probably make her too much of an Inevitable-magnet to have a chance of achieving anything).
I could be completely wrong, of course...
By the way, what did Nalifan use to dispose of that Balor?
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Elvarra reached the edge of the inner teleport barrier, one of several shields erected around the more important parts of the Desanna castle in addition to the outer barriers. She drew upon her power and vanished in swirl of silver light, reappearing outside a large adamantine door. The door guards, males armoured in black plate, were startled by her sudden appearance but did not bar her way.
The door swung open under the power of the iron golem waiting on the other side. Elvarra darted through and down the ramp. The Desanna, contrary to what most humans would believe, had a very small dungeon. They rarely merely imprisoned their enemies and those they held were rarely held for long. A single corridor stretched from the bottom of the ramp with doors on either side. The first eight doors were cells and the next four were torture chambers. The door at the end was a vault where the possessions of captives was held prior to division of the spoils, or in rare instances where a captive's freedom was purchased, returned.
Normally there were no guards on duty, but there were four drow present. They weren't there to fight Nalifan, but they could stop him. The cursed dagger that their leader held would send the souls of its victims screaming to the Abyss. Such an act would not escape Nalifan's divinations as the doomed souls were hurtled away from the shields of the Desanna fortress and so it would not be performed until Nalifan was victorious, thus turning his triumph into ash. One did not destroy the bait before the rat was fully in the trap and the Dread Queen had no desire to destroy her foes so quickly when she had the leisure to savor their agony.
"My lady," the leader began, Esenit, a whip-lean male who served as Desanna's Master Torturer, "should we-"
He never had the chance to finish. Violet lightning exploded from Elvarra's hands, arcing to the drow and smashing their bodies up against the stone walls as it boiled their eyes in their sockets and cooked their flesh. The overpowering stench of burned flesh filled the dungeon as their steaming bodies slumped to the floor. "Die?" Elvarra finished. "Yes, you should." She bent over the Esenit's body and removed the key to the vault, a jagged black iron triangle marked with golden runes.
The door to the cell in front of her melted like wax in front of a roaring fire. Hostile stares met her as she stepped in. "The first rule yes?" she said. "Everyone gets out alive." She gestured and power came. The shackles opened and the adventurers dropped three feet to the floor.
Sylvetria was on her like a flash, seizing Elvarra by the throat and pinning her against the wall. "Syl," said Trizkel, "let her loose." The warrior woman glared at Elvarra, but relaxed her grip.
"Hurry," said Elvarra. "Your weapons are in the vault." She held up the key. Kuuni snatched it from her. "My mother has spells set with fragments of Nal's true name. He won't be able to stand against them."
"Are we actually going to trust this bitch?" asked Sylvetria as the others slipped passed her.
"There is no way in Baator's Nine Hells that letting us go and arming us helps them kill Nal," said Trizkel. "For now she's helping and we're at the heart of an enemy fortress. We'll discuss long term later. The worm that walks, where is it?"
"I don't know," said Elvarra. "It's not important, not now. It can't intervene directly."
Trizkel let out a short bark of of laughter as the vault door slid open. "Oh yes it can."
Elvarra turned toward him. "What?"
"You didn't know?" said Trizkel. "Interesting." The interior of the vault was lined with shelves for storing the goods placed inside. "I wish I knew more about the game it is playing," he said as he armed himself. "There will be time for that later."
Armour and magical talismans were swiftly donned and the adventurers headed out of the dungeon. The iron golem, obedient to its commands to obey a Desanna, did nothing to hinder their escape. The door swung open and Kuuni darted out. Both dungeon guards fell with blood spurting from dagger wounds in their chest. Kuuni smiled. "Slow," she said.
"Where to?" asked Trizkel.
"My mother has gathered much of her strength at the Second Concourse, between us and Nalifan. Even without those spells she would have a good chance against Nalifan. With them . . ."
"Fastest route?" Mikos asked.
"That corridor," said Elvarra. "Follow me." The quickening spell was still active. She flashed through the corridor, leaving the others to hurry in her wake. She practically flew up a flight of stairs, threw open, and stepped inside.
Smoke rose from a half score of charred bodies littering the guardroom. Wither stood at the far side of the room. "You," Elvarra sneered. "What game are you playing?"
"A winning one," rasped a thousand tiny voices. Trizkel came up behind Elvarra. The whole building rumbled and shook. Mikos and Sylvetria steaded themselves against the wall and Kuuni almost tumbled down the stairs.
"He can't hurt us," said Elvarra. "He would have already struck if he could. Save your strength and ignore him. All he can do is delay us."
"Perceptive," said Wither. "But too late. I have already won."
The door swung open under the power of the iron golem waiting on the other side. Elvarra darted through and down the ramp. The Desanna, contrary to what most humans would believe, had a very small dungeon. They rarely merely imprisoned their enemies and those they held were rarely held for long. A single corridor stretched from the bottom of the ramp with doors on either side. The first eight doors were cells and the next four were torture chambers. The door at the end was a vault where the possessions of captives was held prior to division of the spoils, or in rare instances where a captive's freedom was purchased, returned.
Normally there were no guards on duty, but there were four drow present. They weren't there to fight Nalifan, but they could stop him. The cursed dagger that their leader held would send the souls of its victims screaming to the Abyss. Such an act would not escape Nalifan's divinations as the doomed souls were hurtled away from the shields of the Desanna fortress and so it would not be performed until Nalifan was victorious, thus turning his triumph into ash. One did not destroy the bait before the rat was fully in the trap and the Dread Queen had no desire to destroy her foes so quickly when she had the leisure to savor their agony.
"My lady," the leader began, Esenit, a whip-lean male who served as Desanna's Master Torturer, "should we-"
He never had the chance to finish. Violet lightning exploded from Elvarra's hands, arcing to the drow and smashing their bodies up against the stone walls as it boiled their eyes in their sockets and cooked their flesh. The overpowering stench of burned flesh filled the dungeon as their steaming bodies slumped to the floor. "Die?" Elvarra finished. "Yes, you should." She bent over the Esenit's body and removed the key to the vault, a jagged black iron triangle marked with golden runes.
The door to the cell in front of her melted like wax in front of a roaring fire. Hostile stares met her as she stepped in. "The first rule yes?" she said. "Everyone gets out alive." She gestured and power came. The shackles opened and the adventurers dropped three feet to the floor.
Sylvetria was on her like a flash, seizing Elvarra by the throat and pinning her against the wall. "Syl," said Trizkel, "let her loose." The warrior woman glared at Elvarra, but relaxed her grip.
"Hurry," said Elvarra. "Your weapons are in the vault." She held up the key. Kuuni snatched it from her. "My mother has spells set with fragments of Nal's true name. He won't be able to stand against them."
"Are we actually going to trust this bitch?" asked Sylvetria as the others slipped passed her.
"There is no way in Baator's Nine Hells that letting us go and arming us helps them kill Nal," said Trizkel. "For now she's helping and we're at the heart of an enemy fortress. We'll discuss long term later. The worm that walks, where is it?"
"I don't know," said Elvarra. "It's not important, not now. It can't intervene directly."
Trizkel let out a short bark of of laughter as the vault door slid open. "Oh yes it can."
Elvarra turned toward him. "What?"
"You didn't know?" said Trizkel. "Interesting." The interior of the vault was lined with shelves for storing the goods placed inside. "I wish I knew more about the game it is playing," he said as he armed himself. "There will be time for that later."
Armour and magical talismans were swiftly donned and the adventurers headed out of the dungeon. The iron golem, obedient to its commands to obey a Desanna, did nothing to hinder their escape. The door swung open and Kuuni darted out. Both dungeon guards fell with blood spurting from dagger wounds in their chest. Kuuni smiled. "Slow," she said.
"Where to?" asked Trizkel.
"My mother has gathered much of her strength at the Second Concourse, between us and Nalifan. Even without those spells she would have a good chance against Nalifan. With them . . ."
"Fastest route?" Mikos asked.
"That corridor," said Elvarra. "Follow me." The quickening spell was still active. She flashed through the corridor, leaving the others to hurry in her wake. She practically flew up a flight of stairs, threw open, and stepped inside.
Smoke rose from a half score of charred bodies littering the guardroom. Wither stood at the far side of the room. "You," Elvarra sneered. "What game are you playing?"
"A winning one," rasped a thousand tiny voices. Trizkel came up behind Elvarra. The whole building rumbled and shook. Mikos and Sylvetria steaded themselves against the wall and Kuuni almost tumbled down the stairs.
"He can't hurt us," said Elvarra. "He would have already struck if he could. Save your strength and ignore him. All he can do is delay us."
"Perceptive," said Wither. "But too late. I have already won."
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 hate cliffhangers. What's Happening?! Issit time for the Reveal yet?
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
I am assuming that this isn't about Nal after all? Just a very elaborate ruse to destroy the House of Desanna?LadyTevar wrote:I hate cliffhangers. What's Happening?! Issit time for the Reveal yet?
ASVS('97)/SDN('03)
"Whilst human alchemists refer to the combustion triangle, some of their orcish counterparts see it as more of a hexagon: heat, fuel, air, laughter, screaming, fun." Dawn of the Dragons
ASSCRAVATS!
"Whilst human alchemists refer to the combustion triangle, some of their orcish counterparts see it as more of a hexagon: heat, fuel, air, laughter, screaming, fun." Dawn of the Dragons
ASSCRAVATS!
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
"He can't fight us," said Elvarra, "but he can stall us. He could be lying. The fight still could be going on." Wither didn't respond.
Elvarra darted passed him, her speed still magically accelerated. Trizkel followed in her wake, growling at Wither as he passed. "Gods no," Elvarra said. The end of the corridor was choked with rubble.
"Move," said Trizkel, pushing her out of the way. "More blasting might bring more rubble down." The drow picked up a stone slab that must have weighed a ton and tossed it aside. More stonework followed.
Elvarra gestured and a small stone slid out of the debris pile toward her. Then another. Then another. Then a pair of larger stones. The stream of rock became a torrent.
Trizkel tossed aside another huge slab. Dust rolled into from the gap that Trizkel exposed. "It's quiet," said Sylvetria dully. "They were throwing around spells with enough power to shake the castle and its quiet. He's right. It's over. Triz, I'm so sorry."
"No," said the drow, clenching his teeth. "It could be lull as he's broken off to evade them. He could have won."
"Not against those spells or that kind of power," said Elvarra. "Not without us." She looked away. "Too late," she whispered.
Laughter came from behind them. They turned to see Wither. "I told you," he said in a thousand voices, "it is over. I won." The air shimmered around him. "And just in time too."
Four inevitables stepped into his timestream, one in front, one in the back, and one on either side. The hands of the blue and gold behemoths descended. Wither's robe parted under the blades. Worm segments and yellow ichor spilled over the floor. The silver face mask flew from its head and then there was nothing but slime, carrion, and tattered rags on the floor. Nothing but the brass lantern.
A foot came down and shattered it. Abruptly all trace of Wither and the inevitables vanished. "What just happened?" asked Sylvetria.
"We lost and so did Wither," said Mikos.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A wall of fire rushed down the corridor and into the the long hall of the Second Concourse. Drow were hidden in niches along the long hall or floated well above the floor surrounded by shimmering bubbles. At the far end, Shaharith waited with a pair of iron golem wrought in the form of gigantic warriors in spike plate armour. A mobile wall of flame did not impress her.
The flame twisted, turning from a line to a V-shape with the ends of the V being a pair of unfortunate drow. Neither got out of the way as the lines of fire struck and enveloped them with the whole mass of the fire. The male fell screaming and burning and the other's wards took the brunt of the damage. The priestess fell to her hands and knees, smoke rising from her armour. Healing prayers were chanted through clenched teeth.
In the wake of the flames came a mirrored egg crowned by five blood red stars. Spheres of blue ghost-fire shot from the sphere towards the right on Shaharith's right side. The detonated in a ravening explosion that consumed two priestesses and one of her best battle mages. The stars orbiting the egg flew off each one streaking towards an flying mage.
Three of the blood stars tore through the mage shields as if they were paper. They burst through the mages' bodies in sprays of gore. The other two impacted and detonated the enough force to sway Shaharith twenty yards away despite her crackling mantle of power. One mage survived, merely stunned. The body parts of the other rained down the hall. The three surviving blood stars turned and swung towards new targets. The iron golems lurched forward.
Counter spells were frantically cast. Streaks of violet and crimson light flashed down the hall and splattered harmlessly on the mirrored egg. Words of rending and unmaking were shouted despite the stress they placed on all too mortal flesh. Two of the blood stars vanished. The third cored another mage and swooped towards another target.
The egg advanced, its surface reflecting the hellish storm of fire and lightning that was being unleashed against it. Shaharith knew this outer shell had to be cracked first before the truename spells would bite. A bolt of ebony power flew from her hand as a black fog ate the flesh off the bones of three of her retainers and the last blood star blew a priestess into a geyser of blood and bone fragments.
The mirror cocoon shattered under the power of Shaharith's spell revealing the ghostly cerulean mage armour that encased Nalifan. One of her mages fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces of razor edged glass. Azure lightning and cyan frost swept the walls, killing her blood and her retainers. The cost had been high, but victory was within her grasp. She and her surviving subjects took it.
The iron golems lurched towards Nalifan, but he had a spell ready for them. Their near immunity to magic did not extend to the spell that he invoked with a flick of his fingers. Red-brown spots appeared on their night-black armour and grew rapidly. Rusted spikes fell from the statues and their movement slowed as the corrosive magic ate away at them. Fewer than half the drow were still standing and he still had much of the force of the Celestial Knight left as well as his wards and talismans to protect him. No shortage of killing spells danced in his brain.
Only the strongest were left now, the weaker ones having been scourged away and they were scattered about the hall.. Individual killing spells where the tools best employed now. He unleashed an emerald ray, backed by the power of Spellbreaker to tear through a priestess's wards and dissolve her armour and flesh into a cloud of green motes. Weavebinder's star sapphires glowed softly as the talisman secured his control over his own magics, preventing them from being turned against him by clever slights. He spoke another killing spell and a mage's bones glowed white hot, visible through his flesh and robes as his life force was converted to killing heat which cooked him from the inside out. The floor shook as a wave of force blasted apart the two collapsing golems and smote Nalifan. The walls shook and weakened stone toppled to the floor.
The Celestial Knight fell away in shards of light, but Nalifan was unharmed. His blood ran with fire, joy and determination surging in his veins. He was so fast, quicksilver death compared to them. The survivors finished their spells almost simultaneously. Orbs of ghostly yellow-green flame left their hands, trailing streams of hell-light behind them as they flew at him.
He sprung out of the way, leaping impossibly high and surging through the air but the spells twisted and followed. His wards would take the worst of it and he would survive, vampirizing his enemies' life force if necessary to heal the wounds. The spells converged and at the last moment he realized why they had been able to so easily track him and why his wards would not be enough. Then he was engulfed in an inferno.
Twenty feet of the floor of the hall a conflagration of spell wrought flame burned with unholy fury. Drow turned away, shielding their eyes from the brightness of the flame and the roar of the fires that filled their ears. Tendrils of hell-flame sprouted from the mass and flexed. And struck.
Streams of flame poured into the surviving drow, turning them into living and screaming torches as the center-mass diminished. Ribbons of shadow extended from the mass and bored through Exandra's chest and out the other side. Tasseen extended her hand and black lightning lashed the flames. The drow's priestess fell screaming as her skin and then her flesh unraveled from her body. Shaharith saw her daughter collapse in pool of blood, but the words of a healing spell did not leave her lips.
She was undone, how she did not know, but House Desanna was undone. It would take centuries to rebuild their power. The flames died finally, revealing Nalifan. The gems of Weavebinder glowed like a star. She had her own talisman of power. The Crown of Lolth had sustained her power during the Silence and it would grant her victory now.
Blood red runes formed around Sheharith. Her organs turned to mush and her life poured out of her mouth. Her lips tried to form a spell, but her strength had left her. Nalifan floated down, Weavebinder still glowing like a constellation of new stars. He nudged her body with his boot. Nothing. There was no left in the hall save the dead.
His magic could not be used against him while he wore Weavebinder and the fragments of his truename embedded in those spells had made them his as surely as if he had spoken the initiators himself and insured his victory. He had won, but if his friends had perished, if they had not survived . . . . No. He crushed his enemies. He had won. He had to have won. Please, Tymora, let him have won. Let him have engineered that victory as well as this one. Mother Mystra, let him have won.
Elvarra darted passed him, her speed still magically accelerated. Trizkel followed in her wake, growling at Wither as he passed. "Gods no," Elvarra said. The end of the corridor was choked with rubble.
"Move," said Trizkel, pushing her out of the way. "More blasting might bring more rubble down." The drow picked up a stone slab that must have weighed a ton and tossed it aside. More stonework followed.
Elvarra gestured and a small stone slid out of the debris pile toward her. Then another. Then another. Then a pair of larger stones. The stream of rock became a torrent.
Trizkel tossed aside another huge slab. Dust rolled into from the gap that Trizkel exposed. "It's quiet," said Sylvetria dully. "They were throwing around spells with enough power to shake the castle and its quiet. He's right. It's over. Triz, I'm so sorry."
"No," said the drow, clenching his teeth. "It could be lull as he's broken off to evade them. He could have won."
"Not against those spells or that kind of power," said Elvarra. "Not without us." She looked away. "Too late," she whispered.
Laughter came from behind them. They turned to see Wither. "I told you," he said in a thousand voices, "it is over. I won." The air shimmered around him. "And just in time too."
Four inevitables stepped into his timestream, one in front, one in the back, and one on either side. The hands of the blue and gold behemoths descended. Wither's robe parted under the blades. Worm segments and yellow ichor spilled over the floor. The silver face mask flew from its head and then there was nothing but slime, carrion, and tattered rags on the floor. Nothing but the brass lantern.
A foot came down and shattered it. Abruptly all trace of Wither and the inevitables vanished. "What just happened?" asked Sylvetria.
"We lost and so did Wither," said Mikos.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A wall of fire rushed down the corridor and into the the long hall of the Second Concourse. Drow were hidden in niches along the long hall or floated well above the floor surrounded by shimmering bubbles. At the far end, Shaharith waited with a pair of iron golem wrought in the form of gigantic warriors in spike plate armour. A mobile wall of flame did not impress her.
The flame twisted, turning from a line to a V-shape with the ends of the V being a pair of unfortunate drow. Neither got out of the way as the lines of fire struck and enveloped them with the whole mass of the fire. The male fell screaming and burning and the other's wards took the brunt of the damage. The priestess fell to her hands and knees, smoke rising from her armour. Healing prayers were chanted through clenched teeth.
In the wake of the flames came a mirrored egg crowned by five blood red stars. Spheres of blue ghost-fire shot from the sphere towards the right on Shaharith's right side. The detonated in a ravening explosion that consumed two priestesses and one of her best battle mages. The stars orbiting the egg flew off each one streaking towards an flying mage.
Three of the blood stars tore through the mage shields as if they were paper. They burst through the mages' bodies in sprays of gore. The other two impacted and detonated the enough force to sway Shaharith twenty yards away despite her crackling mantle of power. One mage survived, merely stunned. The body parts of the other rained down the hall. The three surviving blood stars turned and swung towards new targets. The iron golems lurched forward.
Counter spells were frantically cast. Streaks of violet and crimson light flashed down the hall and splattered harmlessly on the mirrored egg. Words of rending and unmaking were shouted despite the stress they placed on all too mortal flesh. Two of the blood stars vanished. The third cored another mage and swooped towards another target.
The egg advanced, its surface reflecting the hellish storm of fire and lightning that was being unleashed against it. Shaharith knew this outer shell had to be cracked first before the truename spells would bite. A bolt of ebony power flew from her hand as a black fog ate the flesh off the bones of three of her retainers and the last blood star blew a priestess into a geyser of blood and bone fragments.
The mirror cocoon shattered under the power of Shaharith's spell revealing the ghostly cerulean mage armour that encased Nalifan. One of her mages fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces of razor edged glass. Azure lightning and cyan frost swept the walls, killing her blood and her retainers. The cost had been high, but victory was within her grasp. She and her surviving subjects took it.
The iron golems lurched towards Nalifan, but he had a spell ready for them. Their near immunity to magic did not extend to the spell that he invoked with a flick of his fingers. Red-brown spots appeared on their night-black armour and grew rapidly. Rusted spikes fell from the statues and their movement slowed as the corrosive magic ate away at them. Fewer than half the drow were still standing and he still had much of the force of the Celestial Knight left as well as his wards and talismans to protect him. No shortage of killing spells danced in his brain.
Only the strongest were left now, the weaker ones having been scourged away and they were scattered about the hall.. Individual killing spells where the tools best employed now. He unleashed an emerald ray, backed by the power of Spellbreaker to tear through a priestess's wards and dissolve her armour and flesh into a cloud of green motes. Weavebinder's star sapphires glowed softly as the talisman secured his control over his own magics, preventing them from being turned against him by clever slights. He spoke another killing spell and a mage's bones glowed white hot, visible through his flesh and robes as his life force was converted to killing heat which cooked him from the inside out. The floor shook as a wave of force blasted apart the two collapsing golems and smote Nalifan. The walls shook and weakened stone toppled to the floor.
The Celestial Knight fell away in shards of light, but Nalifan was unharmed. His blood ran with fire, joy and determination surging in his veins. He was so fast, quicksilver death compared to them. The survivors finished their spells almost simultaneously. Orbs of ghostly yellow-green flame left their hands, trailing streams of hell-light behind them as they flew at him.
He sprung out of the way, leaping impossibly high and surging through the air but the spells twisted and followed. His wards would take the worst of it and he would survive, vampirizing his enemies' life force if necessary to heal the wounds. The spells converged and at the last moment he realized why they had been able to so easily track him and why his wards would not be enough. Then he was engulfed in an inferno.
Twenty feet of the floor of the hall a conflagration of spell wrought flame burned with unholy fury. Drow turned away, shielding their eyes from the brightness of the flame and the roar of the fires that filled their ears. Tendrils of hell-flame sprouted from the mass and flexed. And struck.
Streams of flame poured into the surviving drow, turning them into living and screaming torches as the center-mass diminished. Ribbons of shadow extended from the mass and bored through Exandra's chest and out the other side. Tasseen extended her hand and black lightning lashed the flames. The drow's priestess fell screaming as her skin and then her flesh unraveled from her body. Shaharith saw her daughter collapse in pool of blood, but the words of a healing spell did not leave her lips.
She was undone, how she did not know, but House Desanna was undone. It would take centuries to rebuild their power. The flames died finally, revealing Nalifan. The gems of Weavebinder glowed like a star. She had her own talisman of power. The Crown of Lolth had sustained her power during the Silence and it would grant her victory now.
Blood red runes formed around Sheharith. Her organs turned to mush and her life poured out of her mouth. Her lips tried to form a spell, but her strength had left her. Nalifan floated down, Weavebinder still glowing like a constellation of new stars. He nudged her body with his boot. Nothing. There was no left in the hall save the dead.
His magic could not be used against him while he wore Weavebinder and the fragments of his truename embedded in those spells had made them his as surely as if he had spoken the initiators himself and insured his victory. He had won, but if his friends had perished, if they had not survived . . . . No. He crushed his enemies. He had won. He had to have won. Please, Tymora, let him have won. Let him have engineered that victory as well as this one. Mother Mystra, let him have won.
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.
As I said in IMs, hon: Great Job! 
Nal had 'insured' himself victory... as Wither
Nal had 'insured' himself victory... as Wither
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
Rubble shifted away, allowing a could of dust to billow into the corridor. A dark figure emerged from the debris. "Nal?" said Trizkel, daring to believe what was revealed to him. "Nal!"
The Arch-necromancer and the psychic warrior embraced each other. "We thought you were dead," said Trizkel. "We thought we were too late."
"It was never important that you be on time," Nalifan said, releasing his friend. "It only mattered that you lived. Everything was extra."
"The first rule," Elvarra whispered. Trizkel released his friend and Sylvetria embraced him. Tears were running down her cheeks. Kuuni hugged his leg. Nalifan reached down and ruffled the gnome's hair.
"Gods," Sylvetria said softly, "I never thought I would be this glad to see you."
Nalifan nodded mutely. Words for a situation like this did not come easy. "It's alright," he said. "We all made it. Everything will be as it should." His gaze drifted passed her and found Elvarra, her face as frozen as stone. He gently broke away from Sylvetria.
"She set us free," Trizkel whispered. Nalifan walked passed him as if he did not hear. He stopped in front of her.
"Please," she whispered.
"Why would I reject the fruits of victory?" he said soflty and smiled. They embraced fiercely, desperately. "You threw away everything a princess of the blood is supposed to value for me," he whispered into her ear. His lips twitched into a smile. "You did it late, but not too late." Tears were running down his cheek.
They pulled back. Her finger traced the streak of moisture left on his face. "You're weeping," she said softly, in wonder.
"With joy," he replied. His index finger traced her cheek. "So are you."
"I've never-," she began, "I've never felt like this." She laughed giddily.
"Go ahead," said Nalifan. "Let it on out. There is no one here looking for weakness or trying to put a blade in your back. It's safe."
"I'm not sure I believe that," she said.
"You will. With time."
"Nal," said Trizkel. "What about the worm that walked?"
"Me, or what would have been me," said Nalifan. "A remnant of myself infused with hatred for my killers and a desire for us to live. Mastered chronomancy and came back to alter events so they were similar to how the originally were, but different enough that we would win at the end."
"It didn't use magic like you did," said Trizkel.
"Of course it didn't," said Nalifan. "That would have been too easily recognized. It probably spent years practicing and preparing for this moment before making the attempt. I only knew at the end, when the Desanna used truename spells against me that were subject to Weavebinder's power."
"Enough talk," said Sylvetria, "at least for now. I want to breath clean air under open sky, away from all this darkness and fear."
"Agreed," said Mikos.
"As you wish," said Nalifan. "I think Fadina will be quiet happy to see us all alive and well and I think her garden fits the requirements. Shall we?"
The Arch-necromancer and the psychic warrior embraced each other. "We thought you were dead," said Trizkel. "We thought we were too late."
"It was never important that you be on time," Nalifan said, releasing his friend. "It only mattered that you lived. Everything was extra."
"The first rule," Elvarra whispered. Trizkel released his friend and Sylvetria embraced him. Tears were running down her cheeks. Kuuni hugged his leg. Nalifan reached down and ruffled the gnome's hair.
"Gods," Sylvetria said softly, "I never thought I would be this glad to see you."
Nalifan nodded mutely. Words for a situation like this did not come easy. "It's alright," he said. "We all made it. Everything will be as it should." His gaze drifted passed her and found Elvarra, her face as frozen as stone. He gently broke away from Sylvetria.
"She set us free," Trizkel whispered. Nalifan walked passed him as if he did not hear. He stopped in front of her.
"Please," she whispered.
"Why would I reject the fruits of victory?" he said soflty and smiled. They embraced fiercely, desperately. "You threw away everything a princess of the blood is supposed to value for me," he whispered into her ear. His lips twitched into a smile. "You did it late, but not too late." Tears were running down his cheek.
They pulled back. Her finger traced the streak of moisture left on his face. "You're weeping," she said softly, in wonder.
"With joy," he replied. His index finger traced her cheek. "So are you."
"I've never-," she began, "I've never felt like this." She laughed giddily.
"Go ahead," said Nalifan. "Let it on out. There is no one here looking for weakness or trying to put a blade in your back. It's safe."
"I'm not sure I believe that," she said.
"You will. With time."
"Nal," said Trizkel. "What about the worm that walked?"
"Me, or what would have been me," said Nalifan. "A remnant of myself infused with hatred for my killers and a desire for us to live. Mastered chronomancy and came back to alter events so they were similar to how the originally were, but different enough that we would win at the end."
"It didn't use magic like you did," said Trizkel.
"Of course it didn't," said Nalifan. "That would have been too easily recognized. It probably spent years practicing and preparing for this moment before making the attempt. I only knew at the end, when the Desanna used truename spells against me that were subject to Weavebinder's power."
"Enough talk," said Sylvetria, "at least for now. I want to breath clean air under open sky, away from all this darkness and fear."
"Agreed," said Mikos.
"As you wish," said Nalifan. "I think Fadina will be quiet happy to see us all alive and well and I think her garden fits the requirements. Shall we?"
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.
Wins the day AND Gets the Girl.
Amazingly enough, he still wants her too
Amazingly enough, he still wants her too
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
Wow. That was amazing work, IO. This has definitely been the best installment of the tales of Nalifan to date. I do so enjoy reading about the exploits of suitably puissant high-level magic users in D&D. A pity that Mystra's upcoming death will render most of that wonderful magic impotent, at least temporarily. 
And I was almost certain that Wither was actually Elvarra...
And I was almost certain that Wither was actually Elvarra...
"There is a high statistical probability of death by gunshot. A punch to the face is also likely." - Legion
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
To a drow, someone that you actually -can- trust that far is worth killing gods 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