Bjorkus finds himself unable to contact anybody. As he turns to the exit, he remembers that Stoneriver collapsed it. The old creature looks at him. <<I know your light footed little one searches for stragglers. Do you wish me to open the only exit?>>
"We should make sure Calios's men are dead or captured first. Do you mind giving her a hand? Your mastery of this place should help make clean up a lot quicker. I can make sure this bastard doesn't get up in the meantime."
<<This abomination's regeneration is more potent than you know. You would have to lop at him with your full strength at every moment. I fear you would be exhausted before I returned, even if you shared the duty with Toramin.>> Indeed, Stoneriver has been constantly twisting and stamping his foot down this entire time. Between Calios's resiliency to damage and his regeneration, it requires a lot of constant damage to keep him down.
"Could you let Bjorkus out, close the passage again, and when he desires to return Ymir can let us know?"
”Well, I need to learn how to track better,” Rilka says when she returns from checking the area. ”Sorry,” shaking her head with a sigh.
She watches Stoneriver’s corpse crushing action, marveling at the power. ”That's a great idea. As long as the spell lasts, I can stand by the exit and see if they approach.”
Stoneriver growls, relinquishing Calios's body to Bjorkus's tender care. <<I have an idea. Keep him down.>> As Bjorkus starts to release some of his anger on Calios's corpse (which is as strenuous as full combat, he really has to chop hard), Stoneriver steps over to the magma. He raises up on his hind legs and then smashes down, so hard that everybody staggers to keep their balance. Stoneriver grumbles deeply as the area starts shaking, and a large platform of raised stone comes up through the magma, ending about two feet below the surface. Stoneriver grunts an turns back to Calios, then takes the corpse and places it in the magma. The corpse begins bubbling and burning in the magma, kept under control by the intense heat. It's also easy to see because of the raised platform, so if anything started happening the party could see it.
Stoneriver turns to the door and raises up, slamming into the ground again. The collapsed tunnel shudders for a moment, then the loose rubble compresses into the walls like some sort of immensely high pressure balloon pressed them outwards. The stone seals and Stoneriver nods, laying down.
Bjorkus goes outside and taps into the earring, and hears Drosil come in. "Hold on." Judging by the noise, he's in the middle of combat. A few seconds later the sound of bones breaking is heard, and Drosil comes back on. "What?"
"But we know this already. Calios has a minder. A powerful tiefling. The boy told of us him. It's probably his aura I have felt."
Dalton nodded. "I cannot feel auras, but I do know my spellcraft. The level of potency we saw," he said as he gestured towards Ianna, "speaks to a much greater deal of power than I had imagined. As Ragnar said, it speaks of considerable wealth. And this entity's influence is such Calios essentially wears a chain around him; anytime, anywhere, constantly under the watch of this superpower of a being."
The transmuter's concern was genuine; he had worried about the dark past his father might have had, but something like this that could follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond was a constant cause for anxiety.
As Stoneriver manipulates the magma, Dalton asked him more pointedly: "It's possible if the ring was retrieved, we could ask our wise investor to determine where the viewer - or at least the viewer's linked ring - might be. It's the next step to ending this vile sequence of destructive people."
"It's possible if the ring was retrieved, we could ask our wise investor to determine where the viewer - or at least the viewer's linked ring - might be. It's the next step to ending this vile sequence of destructive people."
Toramin grabs the scrying focus and tosses it into the magma.
Stoneriver looks into the magma. <<I can search for it, but I doubt it survived.>>
"Worry not then." There is enough to be concerned about without a ring...
"We've captured Calios and have him restrained for now. He's got enough enchanted s%#~ to fund a f@$+ing war. Our ally down here suggested he be kept here emerged in magma. Are our preparations gunna be better than that?" Bjorkus whispers into the earring. "Whatever we're gunna do it should be quick. One of the trinkets we took off Calios allowed whoever is pullin' his strings to spy on him at any moment. It's possible they might make a move to recover him. Here, discuss the details with Toramin. He's closer to that ally than I am."
Bjorkus hands the earring off to Toramin. "I've filled Drosil in. I'd rather stand watch with Stoneriver."
"Well done. We're almost done as well."
"Alia can hold him." He says simply.
At the mention of somebody pulling Calios's strings, Drosil lapses into silence for a moment. "That...is concerning."
"Hello? I'm not sure what Bjorkus told you, but he wants me to fill you in on the details?"
Drosil fills Toramin in on what Bjorkus told him. "I'm not sure what else happened."
Dalton heart one side of the conversation Toramin was having. With the Aestherics, I presume. Hopefully they have something substantial that will bring an end to the quandary we have now.
Whatever the outcome, Dalton preferred something sure than a spot of guesswork.
"Well, we need someone to come take Calios into custody before he recovers. His regeneration seems stronger than Acera's. Can Alia manage two of them? Did Heff brief you about what Gabriel saw when he confronted Calios the first time? We have circumstantial evidence that he is indeed being backed by a powerful tiefling arcane caster. What more do you need?"
Toramin asks wondering what is unclear about their pressing need for an extraction.
"She can handle it. I'll get a team and get down there."
"Good work."
The party waits, keeping an eye out for the stragglers but seeing none of them. The echoes of the stone halls, burbling of magma, and smell of burning flesh fills the room.
In about twenty minutes Stoneriver grumbles and looks up. <<They are here.>> Then he freezes and narrows his eyes. <<Prepare yourselves. Your allies are not what comes. Something overpowered the walls.>> Stoneriver stands and growls, looking towards the entrance.
Soft walking is heard from the entrance; it sounds like a single person of average build walking normally. Then the person rounds the corner...
A more average-looking person could not be imagined. A human of medium stature and build, with a clean shaven face and short, wavy brown hair. He wears brown and white traveling robes and carries no weapons but a quarterstaff and a dagger.
Tap. Tap. Tap. He walks into the room, walking with his quarterstaff, although he doesn't appear to have any need for it. He coldly scans the room with dead, intense eyes, an unhappy frown on his face. He looks from Calios's burning corpse, to Stoneriver, to Toramin, to Bjorkus, to Ianna, to Rilka, to Dalton. He breathes in slowly and exhales, as if calming himself down after an unsupervised child has caused a mess and now he must clean it up. He leans on his staff and continues staring at the party, as if taking his time to decide what to do.
This had better not be one of Heff's outfits...
"Who are you?" cried-out the exhausted mage.
”They’ve been defeated?” Rilka says. At Stoneriver’s warning, she slips a Shield extract into Toramin’s hand and takes up a position on the right side of the chamber, about halfway between the stairs and the central dais.
She takes a few calming breaths, waiting for the new threat to appear. When he does, she smiles faintly, appreciating the unassuming demeanor that clearly hides formidable power.
”This is a private party, sir. Were you invited?” Rilka asks as if they were in a tavern’s private room. She knows many humans find halflings too impertinent and jovial.
Bjorkus lets the others do the talking while he studies the largely uninteresting and unassuming man.
Ianna whispers a prayer for Silence and walks towards the hostile caster.
The man's eyes flick towards Ianna. He breathes in slowly again, then as he exhales a tremendous blast of green and black energy erupts out from his body, washing over everybody present in the blink of an eye.
It is as if the force of life itself is being sucked out of you. The most painful and panicking experience imaginable. Your limbs begin shaking and thinning, your bones grow brittle and bending, your mind stops processing information. It's as if every part of your being is being degraded in mere moments. The party begins collapsing, even Stoneriver falling down. Those who land and can look around see that everybody is aging unnaturally quickly, their skin looking drawn out over skeletons and their hair going white. In moments there will be nothing left but dried up husks.
"Troth de tairais!" Sveng appears out of thin air, standing next to Dalton, holding a glimmering black hourglass to the transmuter. Dalton feels the oppressive aging magic seep out of him as his senses and limb strength returns. The mysterious man turns with a furious gaze to Sveng, who replies by looking over the party with an accepting calmness. "Thank you for all you have given me. I shall rest easy in the Gray Master's halls. This is my promise fulfilled." The mysterious man's eyes flash green, and Sveng shakes for a moment, then shudders and explodes into a cloud of fine dust. The black hourglass clinks to the ground.
As his spirited began to be sundered from his body, Dalton somehow felt relieved. No more tough decisions to make. But it was not a lasting relief, for memories of his prior death came back to him.
Fortunately, he was not forced to relive(?) that experience; Sveng's sacrifice protected him and the party. Two birds with one stone. But how?
The creature before him is not a normal man, but a wasted away husk of a tiefling.
Malose.
Dalton looks around and sees everything that has ever happened in this place, and everything that ever will happen. He sees every person as they were from birth up to where they will die. He sees Toramin as a baby, he sees Rilka with her arm torn off, he sees Bjorkus as an old man, he sees Ianna as a young girl, and everything else in between.
Dalton is no longer seeing in three dimensions, but four.
Time is not a linear progression of events. It is just as real a space as everything else is, and you can go along it as easily as walking down the street. Everything else stops as Dalton realizes he is not moving along the fourth dimension, so everything is frozen in place like some sort of hauntingly beautiful museum.
Except for Malose.
Dalton feels the wild magic being torn back from his grasp and realizes Malose also has the power Dalton is experiencing, and his effervescent euphoria is ripped away as he realizes the danger of the situation. This creature can make it so they all age to death in moments, or he can make it so their atoms were never formed. Or he could prevent oxygen from traveling to their cells, or he could seep the liquid from their bones.
It is the closest thing to a god Dalton has every experienced.
And Dalton wields that power.
Dalton keeps time where it is, so he can alter reality before the time of the party's death occurs. And then he turns the wild magic back onto Malose, who goes wide eyed in surprise and anger. Malose throws up a green and black shield, and then there is a bright flash...
No sensory input. Silence. Darkness. Nothing to touch or smell or taste.
Nothing.
It seems to go on for hours, days, lifetimes. That is all there is, is existing in a state of nothingness. Even thoughts seem to escape.
Nothing.
It is impossible to tell how much time has passed when the light shows up. It could have been seconds. It could have been centuries. A light in the distance appears and moves closer, and as it moves closer the senses return to the party. They are as they were when the stranger arrived, except they are in an area of utter blackness and weightlessness. There are no sounds, no smells, nothing to touch except themselves and each other. Even oxygen and breathing don't seem to be present.
The light floats closer, blinding the unadjusted eyes of the party for a moment. Then behind it is a tall, broad-shouldered man with a gaunt face. For how normal a human face he has, the rest of his appearance is striking. He wears a set of full plate, but it looks unlike any full plate you have ever seen. It is made out of bone, and appears to grow directly out of the man's skin like some sort of exoskeleton armor. The armor has spiked growing off of it, and wrapped into the armor seamlessly is a wicked-looking spiked chain. He wears a cloak that is midnight black on the outside and blood red on the inside. His hair is bone-white and his eyes are eerily the same. He looks to be middle-aged.
The man coldly gazes over the party, resting on Dalton. He narrows his eyes and stalks forward, moving eerily silently for being clad in so much armor. "There is only one other person who can manipulate time like that. What did you do?"
The man coldly gazes over the party, resting on Dalton. He narrows his eyes and stalks forward, moving eerily silently for being clad in so much armor. "There is only one other person who can manipulate time like that. What did you do?"
Enormous as the expanse of time was, Dalton felt somewhat like a child again. There is so much to see, to understand ... Yet although he saw and felt so many of the potential outcomes of the universe, his sensory input couldn't transfer it all into long-term memory. As with a toddler's ability to enjoy a day with a puppy and parents but being unable to remember it years later, a vague truth in the myriad flashes of potential realities took hold in Dalton. It was exhilarating, and it was terrifying. A high dive off the bring of oblivion to splash into a pool of infinity.
And then there was ... Malose? Yes, that feels right.
Standing out from much else like colorful dyes on an alabaster bust, the singular entity was able, like Dalton, to see here. To feel here. Most importantly, he could move here ... and there and then and later. But he was no innocent babe. Rather, the maliciousness in him would stop other children from growing. Though we are so alone here.
That could not happen.
Dalton attempted to weave the strands of potential futures around the man, eclipsing his ... escapes? ... in ways the mage barely understood. The mental motions felt right. Yet his opponent's rebuke prevented things from ending there.
And now he was approached anew - in tempo once more, but out of their former place. For the first instant in an unknown interval, he used his physical body to look around. Bjorkus. Toramin. Rilka. Ianna. They are still here. Safe. Good. The old transmuter sighed - partially in mental relief, but also in physical necessity - he'd forgotten to breathe in the inundation of opportunity.
He was scared, and he was vulnerable. Yet Dalton was not dim. He is asking me questions, and not for the sake of manners: I know something he doesn't. That seemed to be a good chip to have on his side, but a nagging worry in the back of his mind began to form: Why could I do that?
It was squelched for the time being.
"I sincerely hope the results of my actions were obvious to you; they weren't to me." He kept a level face, not in a bluff but more in a stalemate. He couldn't divulge any secrets for he was honestly ignorant of their origins, yet as the man seemed to want answers to questions, Dalton was perfectly willing to circumlocute them all he could. He is my best key to discovering exactly what occurred.
The man gives a slight sneer, moving right up next to Dalton. He doesn't reach for a weapon or raise his hand or even look like he intends Dalton harm...but something about him is just bone-chillingly terrifying. It's like a dragon breathing down your neck. His piercing, white eyes stare intently at Dalton for a moment, then he nods. "I know of you, Dalton Barrowwheel, son of Koriat. Wild magic is dangerous and unpredictable, and you tap into it far too carelessly. You are lucky Tiasar is confident in your abilities or I would have paid you a visit far sooner." He narrows his eyes. "Perhaps it is long overdue though."
The intimidating man sweeps his gaze across the rest of the party, then back to Dalton. "I don't know what your intentions were, but you nearly folded the timestream over itself. You could see in four dimensions but you tried to act in a frozen piece of time, which is blatantly destructive. Even the most powerful time magic such as Time Stop does not actually stop time. You tampered with things you do not understand and you nearly collapsed a moment of reality. You are very lucky that Malose prevented that, or you may never have existed." He looks back over the party. "All of you."
He looks off into the horizon of darkness, folding his arms.
"Are you Nareth I'grada?"
The man looks to Toramin and nods. "Yes." He takes a breath. "For a spymaster you think Heff would be better at keeping secrets."
"One might wish Heff were better at a great many things. But in this case, it is not as if he told us what you look like or under what conditions to expect you. He mentioned very little about you. You have revealed more about yourself in dress and speech than he did."
Though often mocked, Toramin's memory and logic are quite excellent.
"He's still a slimy little s*#&." Nareth remarks.
"I do not disagree, but I feel each should receive their due according to their actions. I would not want to defame him incorrectly."
Nareth looks back to Dalton. "Yes, each should receive their due according to their actions. So what should a careless manipulator of time receive? There are many that want him dead. Maybe they're right. No matter what happens some will come for him. The Aeons are furious."
Ianna look around at the darkness in some confusion.
"I don't understand what occurred beyond that we were attacked and preserved by some outside agency and by whatever that hourglass is. Did any of our allies survive?"
"Some impropriety can be done in defense of one's life and the lives of others. Where there is life there is the possibility that learning may yet occur. So one should measure the cost of carelessness against the options that the offending party understood and could enact. Malice and/or indifference to consequences is more blameworthy than ignorance. The proper consequence to ignorance is education, so that one can choose better in the future.
As for wrathful outsiders? Let them carry their own water. It seems that there are many hands already tipping the balances."
Nareth looks at Dalton expectantly for a moment, then answers Ianna. "Since he clearly has no idea what he did...He brought you all back in time by about two weeks. Such a violent rupture of time attracted attention. Powerful outsiders, particularly the Aeons, wanted to intervene. One of the Draconals advised patience, so I brought you here before any rash decisions were made. Your allies were moved back safely."
"I agree. Being ignorant helps your case. But he nearly ended a piece of reality. Not only would you be dead, you would no longer exist. At any point in time. You would never have existed."
"Balance is the key word. These outsiders are not power-seeking evil beings or justice-bringing good beings."
"This may seem cynical, but are these outsiders merely trying to coerce those who are weak enough to be censured by their rules? Did Master Dalton attempt to do more than stop our attacker? Where are they who would censure him? Rules that do not apply to all equal and have not been promulgated widely do not impress me.
While we exist, non-existence should be avoided; however, it is not a state that can concern us since there would be no "I" to be troubled."
"I am glad that they yet live."
Nareth narrows his eyes at Toramin. "You don't even understand the forces you are toying with." He points his finger at Dalton. "He could have ended reality as you know it. Do you even grasp that? There isn't some council with rules, these are beings making sure that the universe doesn't collapse on itself."
"I do not pretend to understand. All we know of this event is what you have told us. Master Dalton has some skill and some power, but I have never seen him do something that could end reality, a piece of reality, or even us from reality. So your information is a surprise, but I will not quibble about facts which I have no access to nor can verify. However, if something is removed from existence so completely that it never existed; then, logically, from the perspective within the new reality nothing has been lost. It would only be lacking from an outside or hypothetical perspective. Nor am I impugning any safeguarding function these being may possess. However, from a stand point of consequences punishment rather than instruction seems both less than optimal and small minded."
"Spare me the second rate philosophy."
"There is no teaching how to handle this power, because nobody knows how. The only reason he hasn't been killed already is because Malose is also toying with the bounds of time, and has amassed enough understanding to escape any retaliation."
"You've already felt the power he wields. He didn't have to lift a finger to end every one of you. Even Stoneriver was helpless. And that was just a small taste of what he is capable of. There is enough trouble trying to pin him down, they don't want a second one running around."
He looks at Dalton. "But my idea is to fight fire with fire. You've just proven you can take the wild magic he commands and turn it on him, as uncontrollable and dangerous as it was. I think we can harness your abilities to keep him from escaping into another time, and actually pin the bastard down."
"But I'll need something good to go back with. You've just attracted a lot of attention, and the Aeons are going to come down on you no matter what. But if you can convince me you will be able to help, I'll get some allies to help keep you alive."
Despite his insult, this man argues for Toramin's points. Apparently, Nareth is a fan of "second rate philosophy" since he either confirms or restates Toramin's premises. It feels ungracious to needle him, so Toramin lapses into a satisfied silence.
Once again we see that punitive measures are only for the relatively powerless and not for the relatively powerful.
It took Dalton many monments longer to process the conversation and think about it than it should have. His mind was still somewhat disoriented from the extra-dimensional experience, and putting it back on "normal" terms was much like having a stampede every alleyway onto a previously-empty street simultaneously; it was a traffic jam, and little got done.
"Ah, Nareth!" A triumphant note sounded in the mage's voice as he remembered the mention of that name, though the success came after the back-and-forth between him and the dwarf. The last name had escaped Dalton's memory, save for Toramin's reminder, and it took him long enough to recall where he'd heard it. "I would be polite and say I've heard so much about you, but that is untrue. I know you are capable and have the distinct privilege of knowing Heff, but that's about it."
The comments the others had exchanged were backed-up in the streets in Dalton's mind, one cart or two getting through at a time. He gestured to the chain on the man.
"A penchant for the Midnight Lord?" Clearly, the bits about the universe ending and whatnot hadn't made their weight felt to Dalton yet; he'd yet to come off of the previous experience, and his tone was conversational, much like discussing gardening over tea. "I think he makes a bad first impression on those who don't know - or have come close to knowing - what it is to lose someone or something. They would understand him better if they had."
As more of the carts began to bustle, the jeweler put down his verbal crumpet. "Toying? Toys are meant for games, for enjoyment. My associates and I were merely trying to survive our brush with that Malose." Even the name was bitter to him. "I would not say we had a good time, and I must impress to you Grastle Hollow was no game we would like to play again." Back in time two weeks?! Barrowwheel didn't think he could make himself sit through that theater once more.
For the jab thrown at Toramin about his thinking ability, Dalton felt in appropriate to respond in kind. "'Second-rate' thinking did not produce this first-priority problem you - or, I suppose, we - now have. Aeons and Malose did not come about because of him. Nor, I imagine, because of you."
Dalton did not intentionally levy that lens at the man, but he glanced through it anyway after seeing the glass appropriately-positioned.
"Rather, what is second-rate is trying to solve a problem with a problem. Fighting fire with fire only makes everything burn. When one learns to put a fire out with water, one knows to use water instead." Dalton drove his point home. "You're trying to destroy Malose's curiosity - bad-intentioned as its applications may be. Why not understand instead the potential implications and countermeasures to what he's exploring instead of simply trying to sink the voyager? That way if another such problem were to arise - evidently myself - you could better understand it instead of thinking of obliterating it." He shook his head. "The Aeons say balance, but in this situation, they truly mean control. After all, when 'Destroy!' is the first response to anything that steps outside one's self-imposed bounds, control has already been forfeited. What's left is preservation of an old way, a way others are moving beyond. It is a failure to adapt, to evolve."
"As a transmuter, Nareth, it is my field to understand the evolution of one form - things, time, energy - to another given the appropriate conditions. To simply look-away from, or more directly, forbid the exploration and observation of those relationships is short-sighted and narrow-minded. That is the true second-rate philosophy here."
The roads were busy, but they were back to normal.
Despite being thoroughly discombobulated, Ianna's political instincts recover enough to make her suspicious of this man. His worship of the Midnight Lord was enough to raise her hackles, but it is his words that confirm her fears.
It is a classic negotiating tactic to claim special knowledge or the ability to solve a problem. The best kind of problem for your rivals to have is a problem that they do not understand and that you can purport to uniquely solve. If they believe you, then their fear of loss makes them more malleable.
This priest claims that Dalton did something terrible, but that they had no ability to verify as her brother mentioned, and that he is the only thing that stood between them and their destruction.
It may be true, but what is undoubtedly true is that he is trying to use their fear and confusion in the face of the unknown to get them to agree to whatever he proposes.
He claims special knowledge of what occurred, but instead of providing it he elides this knowledge with training of Dalton's gifts. If such understanding was so impossible, then there would be no way that he could know what he claims to know. He pairs this with the threat that without his aid we will be destroyed.
Ianna tries to keep her thoughts off her face and out of her voice.
"Your offer of aid and allies is most welcome. Our opposition to this . . . Malose is assured merely from self preservation. He is not likely to leave us alone after this event even if we were inclined to leave him alone. Yet, given our ignorance, I am not clear what further assurances we could provide you with at this time. Anything more would be under duress, and you would have no reason to believe us. It seems like this will be as much of a leap of faith for you as it is for us, priest."
Bjorkus didn't have a clue what was going on and didn't really care to at the moment.
"Can we start with who these Aeons are and why we should give a f$#% what they think?" the bull adds. "Because I'm gettin' really damn tired of powerful councils sitting on thrones, or around big tables, or in ancient f!+~ing halls talking about what we should be doing while being unwilling to get their own hands dirty."