Be Careful What You Wish For (Nalifan)

[Crom]

Nalifan made it clear that he doesn't want to be found because of the geas that compels him to defend the kingdom. If Elvarra comes riding in with the cavalry, Nalifan will have to try to stop them. I'm hoping Elvarra will make the connection, since she has seen the echo of the spell that summoned Nalifan.

[LadyTevar]

Luckily, even if Elvarra doesn't, some of Nalifan's friends may make the connection for her.

[Deadpan29]

The previously mentioned crossover (Sasuke, Faith, Duo) is Lemonade by Elizabeth Culmer at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2604823/1/ and her livejournal.

[Crom]

Luckily, even if Elvarra doesn't, some of Nalifan's friends may make the connection for her.

Sersly. I doubt Nalifan can fend off the oncoming invaders and an invasion of his epic BFF brigade.

[TheClueless]

Luckily, even if Elvarra doesn't, some of Nalifan's friends may make the connection for her.

Sersly. I doubt Nalifan can fend off the oncoming invaders and an invasion of his epic BFF brigade.

Well, she *did* notice that the spell-trace showed signs of not just summoning magics, but also binding magics. While she could hope for the best - that it was just physically prevent him from fighting his kidnappers - Elvarra's still a very high level drow noble.

If you survive to be an epic level adventurer, the idea that you should "plan for the worst" ought be as automatic as breathing. And any drow that makes it to the sixth character level *without* taking this saying to heart shouldn't have survived that long.

[Imperial Overlord]

Sir Quinlen smiled as the elf approached, the witch girl trailing in his wake. He had seen the elf kill. He was fast, very fast. Almost as fast as Quinlen was but he didn't have Quinlen's reach and he wouldn't have Quinlen's strength. He rested his hands on the hilts of both of his swords and grinned. His face hadn't been a pretty sight in a long while. His smile had made strong men weak with fear.

Nalifan's eyes flickered over him, taking in everything about the six and a half foot tall knight before his eyes shifted back to the door. "Tell him to pass me," he told Miranna.

She stepped forward. "Sir knight," she began, "the king has summoned my lord Nalifan."

Quinlen licked his lips suggestively. She was a pretty little thing, although too short, too dark, and flat chested to match his preferences. He wasn't that picky though. She squirmed nicely. "His majesty has not finished with his current meeting. Until then the wizard will wait on his majesty's pleasure."

"He's going to make me cool my heels, isn't he?" Nalifan said in Elvish.

"Yes, my lord."

"Well fuck it. Is smiley here making you uncomfortable?"

"I'm fine."

"That's a yes then. Fine. Now look at him. Smile. That's it. Hold the smile. Now imagine him lying on the ground and screaming in agony as his guts are being pulled out with a red hot hook. Steady. Hold that smile. Good. Keep the image. He's a scary bastard who is probably tougher than he looks, but he can die. Unless I make a miracle, he will die. Everyone can die."

"That's not reassuring," Miranna replied.

"Then start thinking of yourself as a killer and it will be."

"I'm not a killer."

"Then you're a victim."

"Is there room for nothing else in your view of the world?"

"When everything is stripped down to the bare essentials, no, there is nothing else. There are victims who are protected by killers and they might think of themselves as wives or sons or farmers or potters or whatever, but the fundamental rule of the cosmos is that the strong do what they will."

"So we are all at the mercy of demons and gods?"

"Not if we are strong," said Nalifan. "Even the lords of Hell can be dragged screaming to heal and the gods pulled weeping from their thrones. And they will be."

"They will be?"

"The end of the multiverse is a thing so terrible that it chills even my blood to see it and it has already happened. There is still hope though. What once was will not necessarily will be again."

"My lord, I don't understand."

"It's complicated," replied Nalifan. "Let me say simply that one possible future is that the worst kind of mortal will rule at the end of time, but there are other possibilities as well."

"I think I understand."

"No, you do not, but one day perhaps you will."

The door opened. A man with long greying hair and beard peered out. He was almost as tall as Sir Quinlen and his dark eyes glittered above a hawk-like nose. He wore a mink fur robe and a heavy gold chain of office. "The king will see him now."

Nalifan and Miranna followed the man into the chamber. Inside were Varnar Gest, Queen Alyssia, King Elois, Prince Sagard, the chamberlin, Duke Ericorn, and a half dozen individuals Nalifan didn't recognize. They were seated around a rectangular table of polished and stained wood. All eyes were locked on Nalifan. The drow inclined his head. "What do you wish from me, majesty?"

"You are bound to obey my order, correct?"

"Yes majesty."

"And to protect me and the kingdom?"

"Yes majesty."

"But not my son."

"He is part of the kingdom majesty. I have not specifically been bound to protect him, but he falls within the overarching-"

"That didn't stop you from killing Count Ornhalt." Nalifan said nothing. The king continued. "Undoubtedly you have figured out a loophole that allows you to kill in certain circumstances, like the stories of demons and djinn."

"It was self defence majesty. He challenged me to a duel. If I die, your kingdom burns."

"A duel you provoked. Since you must obey me, I shall start by rectifying Gest's foolishness in binding you so loosely. You will not harm my son in any way. In fact, you shall not harm any of my blood at all. Is that clear?"

"Yes majesty," replied Nalifan.

"He's an insolent slug," said Sagard. "Burn some respect into him."

"Majesty," said Duke Ericorn, "he has broken no laws and we need him."

"Do we?" asked Sagard.

"We need everyone that can help," said Ericorn, "and while he may style himself a wizard he can swing a mean sword. And he is obedient. Majesty, don't throw him away."

"He doesn't need a pretty face to fight," said Sagard. "Or his balls."

There was a long quiet. "No," said the king at last. "He has broken no law. But he has provided no help either."

"That can change," said Nalifan. "The Khaduli won't come until spring, yes?" Nods greeted Miranna's translation. "Before winter is out, I will prove my worth to you."

"How?" asked the king."

"With the only currency that matters, majesty. Skulls. I will kill the Khaduli in such numbers that none will ever doubt my worth."

Elois nodded. "I will hold you to it."

[Crom]

I suppose it's lucky that no one has created a logical set of rules like Isaac Asimov's Three Rules of Robotics in that kingdom.

[LadyTevar]

Of course... if the Prince is hurt and to heal him would mean harming him, say via surgery, Nalifan wouldn't be able to do it, and might even have to prevent someone else from doing it.

[haard]

Of course... if the Prince is hurt and to heal him would mean harming him, say via surgery, Nalifan wouldn't be able to do it, and might even have to prevent someone else from doing it.

Makes note never to summon Lady T.

[White Haven]

You thought Elvarra was bad, imagine what Nitram would do to you?

[dragon]

You guys have way to much fun with your characters

[LadyTevar]

You guys have way to much fun with your characters

Yes, we do

Kaeryn, DweomerKeeper of Mystra, is my character in Nal-Verse. She's got Divine and Arcane magics available as she's got Priest levels, Wizard levels, and Arcane Theurge or something else along that line that I can't recall now...

Either way, she's a 20-some level Arcane Priestess of the Goddess of Magic. If someone's naughty, I can even sever them from the Weave.

[General Trelane (Retired)]

'Obey' and 'serve' don't quite mean the same thing. The binding said to serve, so there's wiggle room. . .

[Skyfox120]

Here's a nasty thought... Since the prince obviously hates him, logically he would go against any advice Nalifan would give him just out of spite... thus if a situation arose where Nalifan's advice might bring him victory, Nalifan woudl likely withhold it because if the prince ignored his words out of spite and Nalifan knew he might, than it coukld possibly be interpreted as 'trying to harm the prince'.

Alternativly Nalifan could arrange for the Prince to be hidden away in a far off place (Offplane?) while the enemy was attacking ensuring no harm would befall him... the fact that this would paint the Prince as a coward and one who abandoned his realm? Not Nalifans problem....

[Crom]

I was wondering, could Nalifan dispell the magic that is binding him to the kingdom?

[Imperial Overlord]

I was wondering, could Nalifan dispell the magic that is binding him to the kingdom?

No.

[Eleas]

I was wondering, could Nalifan dispell the magic that is binding him to the kingdom?

No.

The more I hear about this spell, the more I'm intrigued as to what immensely powerful bastard originally fashioned it. And I especially want to know if it was a generalized "hey, fetch me a savior" summoning, or one tailored specifically for Nalifan's person. If the second is true, Nal might just be in a great deal of trouble down the road.

[Imperial Overlord]

You will know by the end.

[Eleas]

You will know by the end.

*is happy*

[Imperial Overlord]

"That went well," said Nalifan as he walked down the palace's corridors. Miranna matched the drow's rapid pace, trailing just slightly behind him.

"It did?" she asked. "The king all but accused you of plotting to murder the prince."

"I'm sure there's many people who are plotting to murder the prince," said Nalifan. "He takes me seriously though and I've been given time to prove myself on my schedule. That's what I needed. Hopefully future interference will be minimal. Now, tell me about the Khaduli."

"Now?"

"Now."

"Alright. Where to begin? Ah, um, well the Khaduli come from the Morenda Steppe, far too the west. They're one of a number of nomadic peoples that inhabited the area, occasionally raiding through the passes into Western Restul."

"Horse people?" Nalifan asked. "Herders?"

"Yes. They apparently live mostly off their herds and flocks. Horses, sheep, and goats are what has been reported."

"Tough sturdy horses, bows, excellent horsemen, light armour and weapons? Raid settled areas, take slaves and loot. Don't think much of other peoples. Very mobile, hell on infantry, hard to bring to battle with heavy cavalry and all that?"

"Yes," she said.

"It's a common pattern," said Nalifan. "Please continue."

"Well, um, let's see. They worship some kind of death god and they make war on other tribes. They use a lot of magic and they take slaves, some of whom become warrior vassals of some kind."

"Do you have any specifics on that?"

"Um, not really."

"Continue, especially about the magic."

"Well, they have a bunch of female shamans and a few male ones as well. Their magic is crude, but potent. Blasting with wind and lightning, cold gusts, fear, that kind of thing. They practice dark rituals and cannibalism. Oh, and they use gnolls are war-slaves."

"Gnolls?"

"I think so. Big and hyena-like?"

"Yes, those are gnolls. An unusual choice. Thay does that, but for the most part gnolls make terrible war-thralls, especially for horse nomads. Anything else you can tell me about them?"

"Not much," she said. "Just what has happened. They burst out of steppe three years ago and flooded the passes. They crushed every army that's gone against them and laid waste to every kingdom in their path as they've gone east. Their leader is supposedly unkillable and so are his champions."

"Nothing is unkillable," said Nalifan.

"Is that an article of faith?"

"You can call it that if you like," said the drow. "I think of it as an accurate observation of the nature of the multiverse and its inhabitants."

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Trizkel floated through the silvery sea, slightly ahead of his friends. "It just fades away," said the muscular drow. He turned his shaved head back to Elvarra. The bejewelled mithril plate that covered his right eye and a quarter of his skull didn't quite shine in the nonlight of the Astral Sea, but the jewels themselves glowed softly. "There's no trail I can follow."

"There must be," Elvarra snarled. "Magic of that power doesn't just vanish."

"I'm sorry Elvarra," said Trizkel, "but in this case it does. Whoever designed this spell finessed it, not brute forced it. It's a slick piece of work. There's simply not enough left to follow."

"Damned faerie."

"The magic is elvish," agreed Trizkel, "but that doesn't mean elves did this. Half the human magic in the realms is of elvish derivation, from the early days of Netheril."

"He's right," said Mikos. He gently put his hand on Elvarra's shoulder. She angrily shrugged him off. "It could be anyone."

"No," said Trizkel, "it couldn't. This couldn't have been done by an unskilled amateur."

"On which world?" asked Mikos. Silence answered him.

"There is another way," said Elvarra. "There are beings that watch, that possess immense knowledge of the multiverse."

"They're dangerous," said Trizkel. "Just contacting them could kill you are break your mind beyond all recovery."

"Break a human's mind," she hissed. "I am armoured in hate and armed in fury and driven by love. I will not be broken and I will not fail!"

[Imperial Overlord]

Lania watched from the window as Nalifan and Miranna walked across the courtyard to where the knights were sparring. For the most part they were big men wearing mail hauberks or full suits of mail and they swung at each other with blunted swords and axes while blocking with battered and scared practice shields. A few wore pieces of plate armour.

When she had been young she had dreams of a brave and handsome knight falling in love with her and taking her away to live in his castle. There she would be attended by fine ladies and wear beautiful gowns and always have enough to eat. Everyone would bow when she passed by and her knight would defeat black knights and monsters and he would be the best, most handsome man in the land and always be unfailingly courteous to her.

Now she was a whore and a whore knew better. Perfect knights did not visit whores and the ones who did not lie with whores were usually worse than the others. They judged and a whores were always guilty and the guilty could be stolen from or beaten or even killed. The worst were the Knights of the Three with the zealot's fire in their eyes and a cold hearth in their hearts. The lines of the Triad came back to her. Forever cursed be the adulteress and the whore, who by trickery and by guile, would usurp the Mother's place in the Father's bed. She batters her body at the cost of her soul and makes a desert of her womb. From her turn away, forever and for all time.

Whores were weak. Their customers, the Watch, their pimps, their madams, the criminal gangs, and the priests all had power. A whore was a thing to them all, a thing to be used or despised or both. A whore learned to trick, to cajole, to act. To play one against the other, to convince her customers that they were special, that she was special, to survive.

Men, and women, despised whores for that. Nalifan didn't. He expected treachery and deceit and not just from her. She didn't know what she expected from an elf, from a creature from a childhood story, but this was not it. That he was handsome was pleasant, but the handsome ones were often the worst. So far he had been kind, but she knew men well enough to know that many concealed a ravaging beast beneath a mask of courtesy.

The knights were pretending to ignore him. He was engaging in conversation. She couldn't make out what he was saying. Whatever he was saying was effective though. They weren't pretending to ignore him now.

The sparring matches finished and more knights were gathered around him. He made several sweeping gestures with his arms. A question was asked. He responded.

He turned suddenly and looked at her and smiled and then turned back to the knights.

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"That went well," said Miranna.

"Of course it did," said Nalifan. "They wanted a shred of hope and I gave it to them. All the old ways have failed to stop the Khaduli. Only something new can allow them to prevail and they know that. Hope is the cruelest of all goads because it lies even as it drives barbs through its victims' flesh. Although in this case I do not lie."

Miranna tried to hide her feelings. "You are appalled," said Nalifan. "You don't hide your feelings very well. Oh, by human standards you do well enough but I was raised among a race of treacherous liars and murderers. Reading faces and body language is an ancient art among my people. In fact, we have devised a language based upon it. Fear, awe, and repulsion are your feelings toward me. I can read you like a book. You strive to be a proper young woman, but you a wizard and you will never be accepted as such. That young knight you secretly lust after, a lust you are not supposed to feel so you hide it and feel ashamed of it, would bed me before he would bed you.

"So why do you embrace your chains? No matter how many shackles you wear they will not accept you as one of them. Be different, be better. Shine! You have beauty, loyalty, intellect, education, and magic. So few are worthy of you! These others, they are song birds but you, you are the eagle. Fly above them and take what is your due! Do not crush yourself down trying to fit a poor role, a role you will be rejected in anyway. Soar to your destiny!"

She took a step away from him, her eyes wide. "Yes, you are thinking of it now. Good. We will speak more of this, and the local religion, in the morning. You are free to go. We will speak of this again." He turned and walked down the corridor, leaving her watching silently. He sang, his words drifting back to her.

"Sweet enemy, I jerk and twist the knife,
How much pleasure there is in pain and strife,
The flesh twitches, your eyes grow dim,
Closest and most beloved of my kin,

Your breath chokes, blood wells up,
Upon your soul, demons shall sup,
I thrust again, penetration so sweet,
The pleasures of violating the meat,

The deed is done, your life undone,
Far from the harsh light of the sun,
So much joy, so much pain,
Over this house now I shall reign."

[Imperial Overlord]

"Not so frightened now, are you?" Nalifan said softly. Lania tried to keep calm as the dark elf came closer. "You would have fucked me to the best of your ability if I had pushed that first night, but you certainly didn't want to."

"Yes my lord," she said softly as the drow approached her. His fingertips grazed the side of her cheek.

"You're trembling now," he said. "When I was younger, not that I am that old as elves measure time, I delighted in that. The fear mixed with submission was a heady drug, especially when spiced with a touch of lust and a generous helping of pleasure. Pain too, as a corrective and a . . . .stimulant. But I am not the man I once was. Such things pale. I prefer partners to share my desire. Perhaps I'm mellowing with age, or perhaps my ego demands that those who share my bed perceive me as a great lover. Perhaps both." He stroked her throat. "Your pulse quickens. Fear or lust?"

She hesitated and went with the truth. "Both lord." It was the answer he wanted and a whore always gave a customer the answer he wanted.

He smiled. "Hmm. But which is greater?" He gripped the back of her head and kissed her fiercely. She responded, surging into his grasp and taking him into her arms. "That wasn't too terrible was it?"

"Not at all my lord," she said with a smile. Nalifan had grown up in the world where the clever lie was a prelude to a knife in the back. She wasn't lying, at least not that he could tell. He didn't want to push her too hard, too fast. She needed to like him, to take risks for him and the rewards he offered if his long term plans were to work. He was over thinking this. The least problematic part of dealing with a prostitute was the sex.

"Good," he said, tossing her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing. He slipped off his robe and pulled off his tunic. He advanced, shedding more clothing. He knelt on the bed. "You appear to have all your clothes on."

"Uh huh," she said as she leaned toward him, smiling. "You're going to have to do something about that."

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Elvarra sat cross-legged on a deep red carpet marked by golden dragons. The sealed room was formed from slabs of basalt marked by gold and silver runes. The door was polished steel and every inch of it was covered by glyphs of warding. At each corner of the carpet sat a small brazier. Sticks of exotic and extraordinarily expensive incense sent up streaks of foul smelling smoke. The dull red glow of the coals was the room's sole source of illumination.

Elvarra's mind wandered. The distance and the walls between the planes fell away as her consciousness flew through the multiverse. The silver mists of the Astral Sea parted before her, revealing an enormous mountain that towered as high as the eye could see and whose base was lost in clouds of ash. A city sized outcropping hosted a citadel adamantine reinforced stone a quarter of a mile in diameter and four miles tall. Enormous gates of mithril bound polished bronze stood open to receive a steady stream of petitioners. Elvarra flew through the citadel and into the throne room near the top.

A god sprawled on a throne of white titan bones. Ancient weapons of iron and bronze had been bent and twisted into the pins and bindings that held the edifice together. A court of withered undead, horned jackal headed yugoloths, and scaled demi-fiends. They wore robes of impossible fabrics, elaborate and fantastical jewelry, and armour ranging from crude and primitive to fantastical works of art. Some held massive bronze slabs or scrolls in accordance with their duties while others carried bejeweled rods of office or terrible arcane weaponry.

A fifty foot diameter circle of gold bound obsidian was inset into the floor the foot of the throne. Images flickered over its surface, a dozen different events at any one moment, each image changing in the time it took a human heart to take one beat. The god looked up from the mirror and gazed at Elvarra was eyes of hell red flame.

He was beautiful and hideous, with coal black hair and ash grey skin. His body was perfectly formed and of the same stature as that of the titans whose bones formed his throne. He wore a kilt of black silk and golden torcs upon his arms. His voice was both a whisper and shout. "You are impudent mortal."

"My need is great, mighty Astrophius, Watcher in the Dark, The Midnight Star, Slayer King, Patron of Assassins."

"I know your need mortal, it proceeds you. You are bold and desperate to so petition my court in this manner. You shall have your answer." His eyes flared and space bent and contorted. Elvarra's mind was sent crashing back into her body with the god's answer lodged in her brain. She threw her head back and screamed.

[Imperial Overlord]

Lania yawned and stretched sleepily across the bed. A pleasant lassitude fill all of her limbs. Sex for her was business, but it wasn't a business completely devoid of pleasure. Not always and not with Nalifan. The elf had studied her body with the rigor that he applied to arcane texts and his devotions had yielded up gasps and cries of pleasure. She had writhed in ecstasy at his touch and only then had he taken for the first time.

She turned over. She opened her eyes and discovered that she was alone in the bed. Soft chanting was coming from the work room. Lania rubbed her eyes and shifted position again. It was nice and snug and she didn't intend to move out from underneath the covers for as long as she could manage. She hated winter. Any day now it was going to start snowing. At least this room was somewhat snug. She sat upright in the bed. A cold blue glow was coming from the work room. Sorcery.

Magic wasn't proscribed the the Triad, not the way murder or prostitution were condemned, but the priests of the Three made it clear that magic was the path one walked to great sins. Hubris, mass murder, treason, blasphemy, theft and horrors that were only possibly to perpetrate with magic lay at the feet of all magicians. The priests of the Three would not perform any rites for wizards, but they would at least perform funerary rights for whores if they were paid enough.

She slipped from the bed, putting on a thick wool robe and belting it around her waist. Lana crept forward. It was one thing to hear about sorcery, it was another thing entirely to see it. She opened the door a crack and peeked into the other room.

Nalifan stood in the center of the room, chanting. Two great circles of azure glyphs turned in opposing circles around his body, casting off light that filled the room. He voiced grew louder, reaching a crescendo. A halo of ghost flame erupted above his head as he shouted the final phrase. The runes glowed brighter and then faded away, followed by the crown of flame. He looked Lania in the eye. "Like what you see?"

"What was that?' she whispered.

"Power," he said. "The might of the greatest of mages."

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Krazad froze in place and cocked his head. There was something happening. Distant, very distant but strong enough to touch his senses. Piteous whining reached his ears.

Two necrophage witches had a captive, a girl of around thirteen, tied to a frame and were in the process of skinning her alive with their knives. They had noticed Krazad's preoccupation and halted. "Continue," he said with a flick of his fingers. The necrophages went back to work. Beside them other apprentice witches treated the dried skins hanging from adjacent frames and cut them into shapes suitable for use as scrolls. The magic of the Khaduli was forged in blood and pain and passed from one generation to the next. The Khaduli remembered the beginning and they would bring about the end.

The tall wizard performed the intricate hand gesture that was the initiator of one of his divinations. It traced the faint traces of power that had touched him like the furthest ripples from a stone thrown into a pond. The spell would reveal its true nature and that of the wizard who cast it. Krazad's eyes grew wide.

The magic was not the handiwork of a mortal, but the primal forces of the universe repatterning reality. It was the power that infused gods and immortal heroes and it had been invoked by . . . . someone. His spell revealed nothing, nothing of the wizard's identity! He resisted the impulse to curse in frustration. His words killed.

He regulated his breathing and steadied himself. Whoever had mastered that magic wielded power that could challenge gods and demon lords, but he was not the only one who had that might. Hunger lent him might far beyond that of any mortal and he had touched the power beyond darkness. Tarantene went further, embodying the Annihilator himself. This mage was beyond neither of them and everything, everything could die.

He approached the eldest witch, a grey haired hard eyed woman whose skin was weathered from decades of hard living. A score of crimson tears marked her cheeks. "What is your will, Carnivora?"

"I need to perform a great summoning. A dozen assistants and a score of sacrifices."

"Sacrifices Carnivora? Why not compel?"

"This one will not be easy to compel."

"Carnivora, is that wise?"

"It is necessary. No half measures with this target."

"A single foe?" Her eyes grew wide. "Carnivora, think of the feast he will provide."

"The whole world is a plate," Krazad replied. "And so will be the next."

"As you say Carnivora. Fire and sword."

"Until all is consumed," he replied.

[consequences]

Wow, such cheerful people.

The wonderful thing about D&D, there's always someone who's more of a dick than you by orders of magnitude, so you can be a complete bastard and still be a generally positive force.

[Eleas]

Well, fuck. I think it does say something about the quality of the opposition when his enemy senses what Nalifan's doing and goes "hmm, this might require some extra effort..."