"Which was a fortuitous coincidence for Miss S," the Baron points out, interrupting. "Left to her own devices, Ludo would have killed her. But as it turned out," (again here he pauses for emphasis, unwilling to give up his beloved melodramatics) "the two of us defeated him, by the sheerest margin of luck!"
"However, Ludo was an immensely powerful spellcaster. Not only did he teleport us far away, but into the future. Now that he was dead, we found ourselves stuck.
"Of course, we were disoriented at first. Soon, we realized an unexpected boon. Being trapped in the future provided us a window of time to develop our powers. In other words, to become more like our future selves."
S shakes her head. "I know, the whole thing sounds complicated, which I suppose time travel always is. But, in short, we were able to plan another teleportation to come back here, at this moment, to provide aid to you."
S blinks the long eyelashes of her onyx-black eyes, and lets you take this all in. "But be forewarned. As for the question of friend or foe, the Baron isn't completely rehabilitated. He's more powerful than me. But in his race to do this, he augmented his powers by ethically questionable means.
"I now stand by his side as ally and jailor."
Quinn responds, "The four of you are here to provide aid? Last time we met Lady Carisle she was trying to kill us."
"Any aid against the Doctor* would be welcome, though not at the expense of having to watch our backs."
*Time-traveling doctor? Not that one, I hope.
Blackacre's eyes never leave Volst. His jaw tenses and his sword hand twitches.
Volst has always used ethically questionable means. I am surprised Herr Baron would see any future for himself. I certainly don't see much of one.
The inquisitor attempts to discern lies among the new arrivals.
The Baron addresses Quinn. "The four of us have been in contact with each other regarding helping you defeat Dr. Grey. To combine our forces."
"You've lost friends along the way. Souls better than we." Volst waves with a flourish, indicating himself, the sorceress, the drow. "The fact is we are here now. The only ones left. The survivors.
"You fight to save the world. You and us, imperfect as that may seem..." he shoots a hard look at Blackacre, "are the future of this world."
Volst looks out over the skyline. "Dear boy, note the endless armies of undead out there. Their shuffling gait. Their rotten flesh. Observe how they stumble and crawl over each other, massing together and breaking apart in their endless, mindless quest to destroy." He inhales deeply and smiles. "They are ravenous. Feel the unholy hunger in their bellies!"
He wheels around and turns on Quinn. "They're all waiting to converge..." he points to the spot of ground in the center of your party "...here! To tear us apart and gnaw on our bones."
Quinn addresses the Baron, "I will take your good intentions at face value. If an alliance is to be made here then what do you suggest is our next step."
The necromancer sighs. "I command the forces of undeath, but Grey's mess would even overpower me."
He steeples his fingers together. "You mustn't flog yourselves about it. There was no hope otherwise. You had to use the crystal foci to summon the Tower Out of Time. But when you did, it triggered a threnodic resonance...an large-scale alarm of epic proportions throughout all of Golarion. All the armies of undead are being drawn to the signal. When they reach us, they will destroy the crystal foci, and your opportunity will be lost. You'll lose your access to the Grey's stronghold. Or, if you're in it, you'll be trapped there forever."
"Based on our respective talents, I gently offer a suggestion. Your party can enter and ascend the Tower as a forward strike team, and do battle with Grey. We will remain behind to repulse the undead and protect the crystal foci."
Blackacre grits his teeth.
When you try to read Baron Volst, his mind...what is happening?...slippery, like an eel... You hear his taunting echo in your psyche. Whoops! Whoops! Almost had it! But then you didn't... Do you like the new me? MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Outside your mind, you see him just standing there, talking with your party, helpful and innocent. *Ahem*...er...at least quasi-innocent.
Can you trust your perceptions, Gaston? he seems to ask telepathically, without turning to look at you. His lips are moving, still talking to your companions. Or have they been warped by this obsession of yours...this rivalry?
The Zen Archer looks to the others, "We have come this far....we can not stop now. We have no other choice than to proceed."
Quinn then looks to Agent S. "What of our old friend Short Stack? Have you seen him?"
As Volst mentioned, the armies of undead are speeding towards you from all directions. There are packs of ghouls in front with bruise-colored skin, loping like dogs with long, pointed teeth. After these comes the main body of the attacking force - a vast ocean of skeletons marching with clacking bones, and zombies as far as the eye can see. These are followed by watery ghosts floating through the darkness, and wraiths gliding like hooded death. Shadows climb out of wells, slinking along the ground and walls.
In the midst of this are more powerful lieutenants - devourers and mohrgs, and vampires and liches with fluttering capes, pointing and giving orders. Raveners fly low in the sky. And towering above all, skeletal ettins swing their clubs, and zombified ogres drag catapults.
The hordes will be upon your location within minutes.
At Quinn's question, S shakes her head. "No. I was going to ask you the same thing. I assumed he was with you."
La Siréene smiles, and it hints of sadness, and a knowledge that this, in more ways than one, may spell the end.
"Agreed, Quinn. We must enter the tower. Confront Hareton."
She turns to the teleporting quartet.
"Thank you for fighting, so that we may be granted this chance."
"Thank you...I think. If you fall and we're trapped, we'll just have to convince Grey to let us go."
Blackacre is shaking, and the fingers of his sword hand are still twitching. His entire body tenses as his teeth grind out the words, It appears we have no choice. Let us go.
You WILL be mine, Volst. If you do not fall to this undead army, fitting though it may be, Ragathiel will find a way to lead me back to you. I have chased you ever since you bankrolled the Kojol Insurrection - for what? For fun? You're a worthless f&!+ing bastard and your end will come soon enough.
It appears to take all of his will to move past the Baron and toward the tower, though he never fully turns his back on the necromancer.
Caromarc looks out on the roiling hordes. No-one he knows of, or has read of, could do anything against such numbers but fall, die and rise again.
It is a last stand, and a suicidal one. Brave souls standing against the darkness to buy seconds.
Seconds count.
"Seconds count, so I will simply say Adieu. Now -full speed ahead." as he starts talking he is already moving, looking at the fortress and judging the distance.
As he saw the tower appear the Manservant was already activating the alchemically pure fuel that increases his strength.
When the Earl commands Full speed, he injects himself yet again.
"Quick now, this is how this is going to work," Volst says. He retrieves a glowing blue coil from the folds of his cloak. "This is a necromantic "battery". It enables me to significantly boost my spellpower."
He points to the approaching armies of undead. "Those are the bad skellies."
He waves his arms and starts spellcasting. Cobbles fly up, soil erupts. Bloody skeletons burst up from the ground all around you. Paige and Sabina smile approvingly. There are tens...then hundreds...then thousands...then tens of thousands... The necromantic battery grows very brightly. Volst points to his new undead. "These ones, my friends, are the good skellies!"
"However, it takes a lot of power to charge the battery. More than I possess. As waves of Grey's undead defeat my skeletons, we'll need a power source to recharge the battery, so that I can raise new ranks of defense."
Paige Carlisle steps forward. "The four of us..." she glances at S with a little frown "...I mean the three of us and her..." (S's sabotage at the Salon of Sorcerers clearly remains fresh in Paige's mind) "have been working on a little project."
"You defeated a dragon and sold its carcass to Sabina. She worked with the materials, discovering they held residual magic from Hareton's experiments. Using dragonscale, thread, and her tailoring skill, she happened to craft a unique set of bracers.
"Volst went to the future, and learned the necromantic battery would be needed, and that it needs a power source. He was able to send a message back to me in the present, explaining all of this. Because of my family's wealth, he asked me to fund a purchase from Sabina. (There was also desperation in this, seeing that I was his last surviving fellow sorcerer from the salon.) I went to Sabina's shop and bought the bracers. At that point, we also brought Sabina into the plan."
She smiles at Quinn and Blackacre. "You two chased me from the shop when I went to retrieve the bracers. You gave quite a chase."
The sorceress presents a box wrapped in string. She removes the string, opens the box, and displays a set of black bracers, speckled with stars.
"Behold, the Eternity Bracers."
She places the bracers on Baron Volst's wrists.
Volst flexes his fingers and looks at the bracers admiringly.
"I'm a dirty, no-good scoundrel necromancer. Of course, this battery recharges by draining a target of some of its life energy on a periodic basis. Don't worry, nothing fatal. The kind that can be healed up if you've got enough spells.
"The Eternity Bracers allow me to drain life energy from one of you while you are in the Tower. " He rubs his hands together. "I'll be able to keep on fighting...for an eternity." He shrugs. "At least theoretically, assuming you manage to keep yourselves alive."
"Hmm...who should we use?" He points, brings his finger across going down the line. He stops at Blackacre. "I choose you!"
I place myself between Volst and Blackacre. Back off, Dead-Man. You'll use me.
Quinn moves up besides his half-orc friend, and in front of Gaston. "Out of all the people to choose, why choose the one that can stop you if you turn on us? You will not drain this man. You can use me instead."
The monk places a hand on Sandru's large shoulder. "It can not be you my friend. You will be in the midst of combat and may sustain injuries and also feeling the drain effect. I am best suited for this. I will combat from afar."
Volst sneers, and is about to object and demand it be Blackacre. But he holds back, bitterly realizing that due to the exigencies of the situation, he, like you, also has no choice.
"Fine," he says without enthusiasm. "Make up your minds. Which one will it be?"
Quinn steps up before his friend has the opportunity to move forward.
"Make this quick Volst before I change my mind."
"No, I'll do it. Most of what I'm here for is knowledge, with a little archery, and this isn't going to drain my mind."
So eager to sacrifice themselves. So eager to hurt themselves, rather than se others hurt. They offer reasons, rationalizations why they specifically should be the ones to suffer.
But look at them, all of them presenting themselves as the obvious choice. This isn’t cold rationalization, optimizing the situation for the best results – this is sympathy, and disregard for one’s own safety, because being hurt is better than to watch friends in pain.
A reaction I will never have.
”You silly boys.” she laughs, absentmindedly brushing off a tear trickling down her cheek.
"Fine," Volst says and quickly steps forward. He makes as if to shake Ianez's hand and finalize the arrangement. At the last moment, he feints and reaches for Blackacre instead. He is too overeager, too petty. For all his reinvention, a part of his old, clumsy nature reasserts itself. He trips and catches himself on the arm of Kwanjan Quinn.
In the blink of an eye, a black snake with glistening scales, black as jet, materializes and springs out of the right bracer. It slithers down Volst's wrist and along Quinn's arm. It rears back, and digs its fangs on the inside of Quinn's forearm. There's a pinch from the bite. The snake burrows under his flesh. It isn't painful. Quinn feels only the whisper of shadows.
Volst now wears only the right Eternity Bracer. The left one is on Quinn.
"What?!" Volst yelps. "Villainy!" He snarls at Blackacre; now his true aggression is laid bare. "That wasn't how it was supposed to go!"
He's about to go into a tirade, but the undead are bearing down on you and closing in fast. He flaps his arms peevishly, choking down his frustration. The necromancer waves you away towards the tower. "Well? What are you waiting for? The bracers are activated. Go! Go!"
_________________
Quinn tries to move towards the floating tower, but stumbles a bit from receiving the dark bite. The stoic monk looks up at the tower then at his new friends and says "Gaston, you need to be healthy in order to continue on your mission. One day you will have your vengenance on Volst and it will be on equal footing."
The Zen Archer monk focuses on the task at hand, calling forth his internal ki to help him propel himself up to the base of the tower.
Base of the tower
Quinn immediately removes a rope from his backpack, holding on to one end while toss the other end to his friends. "Let's go! Make it quick!."
Blackacre puckers his brow and glares uneasily at all of the volunteering going on from his mates.
But this is my burden, my duty - why do these others rush to take it so willingly?
Before he can react and put his arm in the way, the left eternity bracer is on Quinn. He, too, looks disappointed at the result.
You will say that again before we are done, Volst.
Blackacre makes sure he is the first to take the rope.
When he reaches Quinn, he grumbles in the monk's ear. What was all that about? Why did you do that? After a short pause, his tone is different: I - thank you.
La Siréene raises an eyebrow at the rope. She then turns, walks up to Sandru, and sits down atop his left shoulder.
"Carry me, would you, dear Sandru?" She smiles roguishly.
The front line of undead reaches your location.
"The undead is here," Madam Sabina says gravely. She gives a short bark and snaps her fingers. Her drow minions emerge from the shadows and stand around her. Some wield weapons, others are spellcasters. "Ho!" She gives a wave of command. Aside from Volst's skeletons, the drow form the first defensive perimeter around the prisms. They advance slowly, weaving spells and shrouding the battlefield with darkness.
In her sardonic tone - "Well, here goes nothing..."
Paige Carlisle casts mirror image, creating several decoys of herself. More powerful than the normal spell, the decoys cast mirror image and create decoys of decoys, and then decoys of them...until the streets are filled with hundreds of Paige Carlisles! This is the second defensive perimeter - an army of identical sorceresses.
They send a barrage of fireballs and magic missiles against the undead!
Blackacre draws his pistol and loads a silver bullet, that he might cover his team-mates. He winces at the cover of magical darkness.
Quinn responds to Gaston's question."Why my friend? When the time comes for you to face Volst you will not be his battery. Both of you will be on equal ground and I will be having my gold on you for winning the battle. Besides, I think my Zen training will help me fight off this shadow that flows through my body."
The monk shouts down to the others. "Hey half-orc....get your butt up here. I can give some support with some cover fire."
Gaston responds with a grin, a nod, and a pat on the shoulder.
I hardly mind you on my shoulder and your weight is barely noticeable, but it does make it hard...
...to climb! Flame-Monkey, you on board? giving the ladies a chance to perch themselves appropriately, I begin to climb.
To the Drider, in undercommon... Besides no word that directly means "friend", I am enjoying your language, Mistress. Thank you!
Feeling guilty for not offering himself the Earl silently shifts to the tower, taking the Manservant and Phoebe with him.
As Sandru carries her up the rope, La Siréene turns to the quartet one more time.
For once, her smile is uncertain.
"I... don't understand the feelings behind farewells, especially when death might be involved. But, I suppose... you have my respect, as I understand it. And... good luck surviving."
Ianez gives Blackacre a perceptive glance and a slight shrug, as if to say, We are who and what we are, and could not have acted differently.
Glaring at Volst, he murmurs, "I hope you won't come to regret that, Quinn. Gaston, I can see why you want him brought to justice." The archaeologist follows up the rope, and looks back only long enough to call out, "Mädchen Sabina! โชคดี! เห็นคุณในภายหลัง!"
Surprisingly, S doesn't move towards battle. Instead, she produces a reed mat and spreads it on the ground. Stepping out of her shoes, she inserts a blossom in her blue-black hair. She gives a strange, beautiful performance; the Tian woman leaps, bends, and dances upon the mat with shuffling, elegant steps. She twines and undulates her arms in serene, pretty gestures.
It's the exotic bardic Dance of the 23 Steps. Panels of translucent energy form all over the landscape. The undead crash into them, and it slows their march. Additionally, the movements of Volst, Sabina, and Paige are quickened, providing them a greater ability to dodge attacks.
This is the third defensive perimeter - the Dance of the 23 Steps.
S has a dreamy, far-away look in her eyes, focusing intently on the dance.
Yet at La Siréene's well-wishing, it seems as if she gives a parting salute.
At the words of Sandru and Ianez, the proud Sabina's cheeks flush crimson.
She throws herself into the battle with savagery and vigor.
Quinn does the seeming physically impossible; he jumps into the night sky, cycling his legs as if running up air, and easily makes the ledge at the base of the tower! Blackacre, chugging with adrenaline from the encounter with his nemesis, speeds hand-over-hand up the rope and meets Quinn up on the ledge. They're joined in a blink by the wizard and his Manservant.
Next up the rope are Sandru and La Siréene, with Ianez bringing up the rear. Their progress is slower, but soon they gain the ledge at the base too. As usual, with the help of so many friends, Phoebe is well looked out for and brought along.
One last look down below. The undead and your allies hurl themselves against each other. They clash. And the battle is underway!
Looking up the outside of the clocktower, you confirm that it's constructed of four levels. At the top is an invisible 'secret' fifth level...Hareton's lab. The minute-hand is attached up there to the clock face of the fifth level. Since that floor is still invisible, it just looks like it is floating unattached in the air.
The entrance to the Tower Out of Time lays open and ahead of you.
After everyone is up the monk begins to roll up his rope and places it in his backpack. He grabs his bow and arrows and looks at the enterance of the tower.
The monk appoaches the enterance but does not cross the threshold. He begins to inspect the doorway and casts Detect Magic.
The entrance to the Tower Out of Time is a swirling portal of prismatic energies.
The entrance to the tower is very unusual, but aside from that, there are no apparent threats outside the tower where you all are, up on the ledge. A swarm of bats flaps around the tower with high-pitched squeaks, but they are higher up and seem to be ignoring you.
"We can take nothing about this place for granted." Ianez looks for obvious traps as he tries to recall the details of the plan for the Tower.