Malatrothe lead them upstairs to the keep’s second level. As they passed down a long hallway, she paused at a set of intricately carved doors.
“Mithrodar lies within,” she said quietly. “I warn you to avoid this place until you have destroyed all of the spirit anchors.”
Ha _ _ _ _ _ _!
I am sure my table can fill in those blanks
Ah yes, the Forcebow...just one of many reasons why we have decided that, after we complete CotCT, we are going with straight core PFRPG, and are going to start Council of Thieves.
NIHILISM
“I knew it!” Kat snapped at Malatrothe’s disappearance.
O’Reginald shrugged. “If there’s one thing you can always trust, it’s that evil will be true to its nature. She didn’t really lie to us, after all.”
“So where does that leave us?” Kat asked. “There are still two spirit anchors left, and we don’t know where to find them.”
“The night hag mentioned that one of them, Nihil, dwells in the high towers,” Laori offered, “and the unknown one may lair in the donjon chapel. I would suggest pursuing the devil we know. The tower lies just there.”
She nodded across the parapet to where the highest spire in the keep could be seen just beyond a nearby rooftop.
“My sister speaks wisdom,” Sial added, clearing his throat.
Kat cocked an eyebrow at her companions. Herc and Raelak shrugged noncommittally. Michael and O’Reginald nodded in agreement with the Zon-Kuthonites, and Ratbone merely growled low in his throat and stalked towards the rooftop. He reached up and grabbed the edge, and then hauled himself up. He turned back expectantly, waiting for the others to follow.
_________________________________________________________________
Beyond the peak of the rooftop lay another balcony with a single door leading into the tower. Herc led the way as the others readied themselves behind him. The sparsely furnished chamber beyond appeared to be a guardroom with a single table, two chairs, and a tarnished brazier. Above the table hung a bronze gong and striker. Three creatures paced restlessly around the room. They were humanoid in size and shape, but their skin was spiked with numerous wicked barbs. Sharp fangs filled their mouths and hooked talons protruded a full inch beyond the ends of their fingertips.
“Fiends!” Michael hissed over Herc’s shoulder.
Before the big mercenary could act, however, Kat stepped to his side and began weaving her hands hypnotically before her. Two of the devils watched her, momentarily transfixed, and then their eyes glazed over in confusion. A moment later, one of them dropped to the floor and curled up into a ball, cowering like a whipped pup. The third fiend snarled and leaped forward, but Herc moved in front of Kat and caught the brunt of the charge on his shield. He jerked the shield edge sharply up, catching the devil on the chin, but as he did so, his hand caught on the thing’s barbs, flaying his skin open to the bone. The devil recoiled from the blow, but recovered quickly. It raised one hand above its head and began to chant in its infernal tongue. A wave of power coursed over the companions, wracking all of them with excruciating pain, save for the followers of Zon-Kuthon.
Raelak stood up with an effort and drew back his bowstring. He fired a shimmering shaft directly into the devil’s gut. The fiend spun with the impact, but when it came around again, it unleashed another blast of dark energy. Then, it was struck by a half-ton of fur and claws as Ratbone slammed into it, bearing it to the ground and then rending it limb from limb, ignoring the savage rents its barbs left in his own flesh. At that moment, the confused fiend blinked its eyes once, its vision clearing. Too late it realized its situation. It launched itself towards Herc, but Ratbone was in the way. The druid caught the fiend around the waist and hurled it savagely into a wall, snapping its spine. Then he turned on the cowering fiend and quickly put it out of its misery.
__________________________________________________________________
Nihil the Ashbringer crouched brooding in the highest rafters of her tower, the same tower that once served as Kazavon’s personal bedchamber. The irony was not lost on her. She, once the personal assassin of the Dragon Lord, gifted to him by Zon-Kuthon himself, was now reduced to skulking amid the decaying remains of her former lord’s glory, a prisoner of the usurper Mithrodar. She allowed her anger at the presence of intruders within her master’s domain to burn away her self-loathing. They had already slain most of what was left of her once-grand army of gargoyles and fiends, and now they had the temerity to come for her personally. She may have failed Kazavon once, but she swore upon her immortal soul that she would not do so again. As the door to the tower swung open below, she silently ordered her minions to their positions…
___________________________________________________________________
The interior of the tall, hollow tower was silent and menacing. High overhead, an opening at the tower’s peak let in light, as did the arrow slits set into the walls, yet nothing seemed capable of dispelling the gloom of ancient evil that loomed there. A shallow pool of stagnant water from past rains had formed in the center of a floor that was largely empty of furnishings. Near the far wall slumped a wide bed, swathed in rotten and moldy bedclothes. The bed itself hung a few feet off the floor, supported at its corners by chains that hung from a series of iron support beams above. To the side, a large gilt throne stood upon a short dais before a series of manacles inset into the floor. A nearby fire grate, long cold, held a collection of branding irons and other torturer’s tools. A series of alcoves climbed the walls of the tower in an ascending spiral. Within each stood a statuette, art object, or polished skull.
Ratbone was the first into the tower, his hulking form taught and guarded. His feral eyes scanned the darkness above, and immediately locked onto a bare flicker of movement. His vision rapidly shifted through the visible spectrum, and then beyond. The heat signatures of three large creatures jumped out at him. They were invisible, hovering in the nest of rafters. They seemed to be mostly skeletal, though the fact that their bodies radiated heat meant that they were of flesh and blood, not undead. Long, scorpion-like tails arched over the heads, the spike-like stingers dripping with poison. Ratbone turned to warn his companions as they filed into the room, but at that moment, a harsh, shrieking voice ripped the air, and power flowed through its words. As the blasphemous sound hammered into the group, all of them felt their strength sapped, and their heads swam. At the same time, the three fiends above appeared as they flew down, howling in hell-spawned fury.
Katarina looked up as the devils drew nearer. She closed her eyes, driving back her terror and brought the words of a spell to her lips. When she opened her eyes again, they flashed with eldritch light, and the three creatures paused, hovering not twenty feet above. Their eyes locked on one another, and hatred burned in them. Talons hooked and fangs bared, they fell on each other, locked in mortal combat. Raelak quickly took advantage of the confusion and began firing amidst the fiends, while beside him, O’Reginald hurled bolts of crackling lightning into the fray.
‘There’s still something else up there!’ Ratbone snarled through the mental link the companions shared. ‘These vermin can’t be the spirit anchor. It’s still here somewhere!’
“I’ll force it to show itself!” Michael shouted aloud.
The priest cradled his holy symbol and began to pray fervently. The medallion flared with light that reached all the way to the tower roof. In its shining glow, Nihil stood revealed. She was a twisted, contorted thing with as much iron as flesh to her body. A huge pair of bat-like wings unfurled from her back and she wielded a brutal scythe that was fused with the flesh of her right arm. She hissed in fury and folded her wings, diving towards the floor forty-feet below. As she passed her quarreling underlings, she beat at them furiously with her clawed left hand.
“Fools!” she spat in Infernal. “If you want to die, I’ll kill you myself and turn your wretched souls over to the flesh peddlers!”
The bone devils shook themselves free of Kat’s beguilement at the sound of their mistress’s voice, and then proceeded to follow her down. Nihil backwinged just above the floor, hovering as she raised her free hand. Power gathered around her, and she unleashed it in a black burst, the magic siphoning the very moisture from the bodies of her enemies. At the sight of the enraged ashmede devil, both Laori and Asyra quailed, their faces draining of color. In stark terror, the pair fled the room. Sial watched them go in disbelief. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, and in an instant, his decision was made.
“No!” he cried in mock fear. “Spare me, Unholy One!”
He then turned on his heel and ran after his companions.
Ratbone watched the withdrawal of the Brotherhood of Bones with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction. Quickly, however, his attention was drawn back to the matter at hand. Willing his body to transform, he shifted into his avian form and lifted off the floor. As he rose towards the fiends, he seized Herc by the shoulders in his talons and carried him aloft as well. Both of them struck at Nihil as they drew close, but the devil’s skin was like striking iron, and it shed the brunt of their blows.
“Now!” the ashmede cried.
She folded her wings once more and dove past the druid and the mercenary, landing heavily on the floor in the midst of Raelak, Michael, Kat and O’Reginald. A moment later, the bone devils chanted in unison, and frigid mist began coalescing below Ratbone and Herc. Within seconds, it solidified into a wall of solid ice bisecting the tower, separating the two from the rest of their friends…and Nihil!
Raelak darted clear of the ten-foot tall ashmede devil, struggling to get enough room to bring his bow to bear. He loosed three arrows in rapid succession, and Nihil shrieked in a mixture of pain and fury. She lunged at the ranger, batting O’Reginald aside as she charged. Her scythe-like appendage slashed at Raelak like a thresher through wheat. The Shoanti reeled, and felled heavily to his back. Nihil reared above him, preparing to drive the point of her scythe through his chest, when suddenly a bolt of green energy struck her from behind, where O’Reginald had managed to raise himself up on one elbow. Nihil stumbled as her limbs felt loose and clumsy. Her eyes blazed, and lightning flew from her fingertips, arcing from O’Reginald to Raelak to Kat, and lastly Michael. In the aftermath, all four lay on the ground around her. She howled in victory as she moved in for the kill, but her celebration was premature. Too late she saw Raelak raise his bow a final time. Two arrows flew from his string simultaneously, and both struck the fiend in the middle of her chest. Stricken, she stumbled back. Her foot caught on the short dais, and she collapsed into the ancient throne, her head slumping down upon her chest, which heaved one final breath and then was still. Somewhere in the distance, a chain snapped, and an anguished moan rumbled through Scarwall.
Ratbone rapidly shifted back into his ape form, dropping Herc to the surface of the ice wall as he landed upon it himself. Just in time, as the first of the bone devils leaped upon him. Ratbone caught the fiend in mid-air, enfolding it into his four-armed grasp. The druid squeezed as the devil clawed and bit at him, as all the while its spine snapped and cracked. Finally, it went limp in Ratbone’s arms, and he dropped its lifeless corpse to the ice. As it struck the wall, however, the ice began to split and crack beneath the feet of Ratbone and Herc. A moment later, the wall collapsed entirely. The druid and mercenary fell, and the remaining two bone devils came after them. Katarina hurled a lance of solidified sonic energy at one, and Herc managed to grapple with the fiend as it tumbled through the air. He slammed at its neck with his shield again and again as it fell, and when the two of them finally struck the floor, only Herc rose to his feet again. Ratbone and the last devil landed heavily near Kat, and as they rolled to their feet, the beguiler blasted the fiend with another sonic lance. It stumbled from the impact, and in that moment Ratbone was on it. The feral druid savaged and tore at the devil as if he were possessed himself. It was no contest…
An epic battle... What's that spell that Kat was using to hypnotize the devils?
It was Incite Riot...a very useful spell for beguilers.
A MATTER OF TRUST
“Nice of you to join us,” O’Reginald smiled dryly at the Brotherhood of Bones. “We’d hate to think you’d run out on us.”
“I apologize for our weakness,” Laori said, her cheeks burning.
“I do not require you to speak for me!” Sial snapped at her.
“Then what do you have to say for yourself, Count?” the elf woman whirled on him.
“I do not have to explain myself,” Sial growled, “to any of you!”
He turned on his heel and stalked away to the far side of the tower, Asyra following in his wake.
“Nevertheless,” Laori sighed, “I am sorry. I…don’t know what came over me. Fear is not an emotion I am accustomed to feeling.”
“Don’t worry about it,” O’Reginald clapped her on the shoulder. “I was mainly giving the ‘Shadowcount’ a hard time. Nothing you could have done about it, and truth to tell, that b&%@% scared the hell out of me too!”
Laori gave him a small smile out of the corner of her eye.
“What do you make of these?” Herc asked Kat. He was gazing up at the alcoves that spiraled up around the circumference of the tower. Almost half of them held polished, though brittle-looking skulls. He reached out and picked up the nearest one.
“I am Andachi of Tamrivena,” the skull said suddenly, causing Herc to drop it reflexively. It shattered into dust as it struck the floor.
“Andachi?” Michael asked. “Did it say Andachi?”
“Do you know the name?” Kat asked.
“Yes,” the priest nodded. “Count Andachi ruled Tamrivena…what is now known as Canterwall, in Ustalav…almost a millennia ago.”
Curiously, Michael picked up a second skull. It to spoke a name, as did the one after that, and the one after that. Michael identified each of them as notable people who had all lived almost one-thousand years before…until they had apparently perished at the hands of Kazavon.
“This is all fascinating,” O’Reginald yawned as he came over, “but I’m exhausted, and I’ve depleted most of my spells for the day. If we’ve still got another spirit anchor to deal with, as well as this Mithrodar thing, then can I suggest that we hole up here for the night and get some rest?”
“I think that’s a bad idea,” Ratbone grumbled, having assumed his true form for a change. “This place is bad enough during the day. We don’t know what comes out at night.”
“I think we’re safe enough,” Kat shrugged. “Nihil had this place secured pretty tightly, and there’s always the roof exit if we run into any trouble. I can make sure the door stays locked, and then we can take turns on guard while the others sleep.”
The druid merely glowered and turned away.
________________________________________________________________
Two hours later, most of the companions were fast asleep. Herc, Raelak and Asyra remained awake and on guard, the humans keeping their distance from the kyton. A lantern burned in the center of the tower floor, and shadows danced at the periphery of its flickering flame. Raelak’s eyes narrowed as he watched the light. It seemed to him that some of shadows moved a little differently than the others. Suddenly, several of them detached from the darkness and swarmed towards them. Raelak raised his bow and loosed a shimmering arrow at one as it came. The shaft pierced the shadow, seemingly hanging in mid-air. Then they were upon him and his companions.
The shadows struck like living wraiths, their incorporeal hands reaching through armor as if it didn’t exist. Raelak, Asyra and Herc all felt the cold embrace of the undead, their strength leeched out of them. Another knelt beside O’Reginald as he was rousing from his slumber. Before he could do more than open his eyes, however, the shadow reached into his chest and the wizard suddenly found himself paralyzed…so weak that he could no longer move. Quickly, the ranger and the mercenary rallied what stamina they had left, shooting and slashing at the animate darkness. Behind them, Sial rose to his feet, Asyra at his side. The dark priest raised the profane symbol of Zon-Kuthon from around his neck and channeled black power through it. As if flared with red light, several of the shadows quailed before it and disappeared through the walls. Despite their weakness, Herc and Raelak were able to beat back the few remaining ones, and then they stood heaving, their hands on their knees. Quietly, Michael went to them, making the rounds to try and restore some of the damage done.
_____________________________________________________________
Dawn came gray and bleak through the skylight at the top of the tower. The remainder of the night had passed uneventfully, though sleep had not come easily to any of the companions, plagued with troubling dreams as they were. Ratbone remained silent on the subject as the group readied themselves to move out again, though Katarina could tell the druid was displeased. It was decided among them that they should seek entrance to the donjon. Malatrothe had said that she suspected the last spirit anchor was inside, along with the only chance of defeating Mithrodar.
They made their way from Nihil’s tower back down to the castle courtyard. Atop a landing across the yard a double door stood, its bronze finish so tarnished that it appeared almost black. Cast in bas-relief on its exterior were gruesome images of devils and priest cavorting among the corpses and tortured souls of the damned. A skull and spiked chain overlooked the entire scene from the center of the doors…the symbol of Zon-Kuthon. A heavy wheel was set into the center of each door. Upon closer inspection, however, it became obvious that the stone jamb around the doors had been altered in some way to form a seal around them. The central seam had likewise been sealed with lead.
“What do you make of this?” Kat asked the others.
“Looks to me like someone didn’t want anyone getting in,” Herc replied.
“Or out,” Raelak noted.
“If all of Mithrodar’s spirit anchors are already bound to Scarwall,” Michael asked, “then what would be the point of sealing one of them inside?”
“Maybe it’s not a spirit anchor that’s inside,” Kat said quietly.
“What are you implying?” O’Reginald asked.
Kat shrugged. “Just that maybe we’re placing too much faith in what the night hag said. How do we know she was being truthful? Perhaps she sent us here on purpose. Perhaps it is Mithrodar who is imprisoned within, and the final spirit anchor lies back in the keep.”
O’Reginald shook his head. “No!” he snapped. “It’s like I said before…I’ve been around and seen some things, and if there’s one thing I know for a fact, you can always trust Evil to be Evil. Malatrothe told us she was self-serving. We knew what she wanted out of the deal. There would be no purpose in her setting us up. She would gain nothing by it. I think we should stick with the plan.”
“I’m…not sure…,” Michael sounded doubtful. Herc and Raelak looked dubious as well. Sial and Laori kept their expressions carefully neutral, while Ratbone’s face, once more in his animalistic form, was unreadable.
“Perhaps we could just go and look inside the room the hag warned us of…,” Kat offered.
“It’s a mistake!” O’Reginald shouted, but he could tell the matter had already been decided.
_______________________________________________________________
They stood huddled around the door Malatrothe had warned them away from, Kat’s ear pressed against it.
“I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.
Herc nodded and he gripped the door handle. He looked at Raelak, and the ranger nodded in return. Herc twisted and pushed the door open.
A large hall loomed beyond the door. Thick wooden columns, their sides caked with dust, supported the ceiling above. Between them, in the center of the room, sat a large fire pit, its ashes long cold. Many old stains marred the floor, some surely of spilled food and ale, though several darker ones appeared more grisly in origin. At the western end of the hall, a wide dais rose where the lord’s table could be set to oversee the affairs of the hall. In the center of the dais was a great chair carved of oak and studded with iron rivets. Down one step and to the left of it was a smaller chair of oak, less elaborate. A lone figure stood silent and still upon the dais. Its eyes blazed in a deathless rage. It seemed to be some sort of phantom, floating unfettered by the bonds of the living world. The ghostly horror possessed its own ethereal bonds, though, its semi-transparent, vaguely humanoid figure clenched in the hold of countless crisscrossing chains that writhed and tightened over its vaporous form in unending torture. Several of those chains extended from the ghost’s body, some dangling through the floor or reaching seemingly through the ceiling above, while others pooled in spectral lengths upon the ground like solid things. Three particularly long chains seemed to have been broken halfway along their length. On the floor at the phantom’s feet, lay the shriveled, husk-like remains of Malatrothe.
“Uh-oh,” Herc said.
Before the mercenary and the ranger could move or warn their companions, Mithrodar, for there could be no doubt that was whom they faced, swung one length of chain and snapped it out like a whip, stretching it fully thirty feet to strike quick as a snake around Raelak. The Shoanti screamed in agony as he felt the spectral links pulling something…vital…from him. Herc looked on in horror as his friend’s face became drawn and gray, his eyes sunken. The big warrior seized the Shoanti by the back of his jerkin and yanked him out the door. As he turned, he saw shadowy forms materializing from the darkness around the perimeter of the room. They looked human, but he could see through them, their archaic robes flowing around them like wisps of cloud. As he watched, they began stepping through the walls and into the corridor where the others waited, still oblivious to the danger.
“Run!” Herc shouted.
TOMB OF HORRORS
“Ha!” O’Reginald barked at his companions as they stood panting in the courtyard, having narrowly escaped the clutches of Mithrodar and his spectral minions. “I told you! I warned you!”
“Alright, you’ve quite made your point!” Kat snapped angrily. “We made a choice, and it was a mistake, but we’re all still here, so let’s move on!”
“Just wanted to say I told you so,” the wizard grumbled under his breath.
There seemed no other alternative but to return to the donjon’s sealed doors.
“So how do you propose to circumvent this dilemma?” Sial asked sarcastically as the group stood before the portals. In response, O’Reginald pointed one finger at the doors, spoke a word, and sent a thin green beam at one of them, reducing it instantly to dust. Sial’s face twisted in a grimace of distaste and he turned quickly away.
Ratbone moved to the fore of the group and peered inside the door. The floor of the foyer beyond was tiled in blood-red marble. An altar that resembled a skull, its lower section wrapped in iron chains, and its top cut off flat to form a level surface, stood in an alcove to the east. A ten-foot diameter pool of what appeared to be stagnant water, its rim fashioned of white marble, sat in the western alcove opposite the altar. Ratbone stepped across the threshold, but as soon as he did, he doubled over and grunted in agony as some unseen force violently shoved the one-ton shapeshifter backwards onto the balcony.
“Hmm…,” Sial quirked one eyebrow in amusement.
Kat stepped to the doorway and passed her hands over it.
“There is a powerful enchantment here,” she said, “a Forbiddance.”
“May I?” Laori asked, moving to Kat’s side. “This is a holy place of Zon-Kuthon. Perhaps the way will open to His faithful.”
Kat shrugged and gestured the elf forward. Laori stepped past her…and passed easily through the door. When Kat examined the portal again, she found that the Forbiddance was gone.
Once inside, Laori, Sial and Asyra genuflected before the altar, and then each of them used the spiked barbs on their chains to slice open their palms. They went to the pool and dipped their hands into the filthy water, washing the blood clean.
A second set of doors on the opposite side of the shrine opened into what seemed to have once been a common room. A worn by colorful carpet covered most of the floor, and a number of wooden tables and comfortable chairs were spaced about the chamber for informal gatherings and meals. A small kitchen had been set up by a low stone fireplace alongside a cupboard that held some dishes and utensils as well as a few desiccated remains of foodstuffs. Strangely, a half-dozen figures were seated around one of the tables, as if in deep discussion. They wore black robes that appeared rotten and threadbare with age. They turned in unison when the doors opened, and it was only then that the companions saw that their gaunt faces and empty eye sockets were translucent, as where the trappings they wore. They shrieked when they sensed the living life force of the intruders and rose, claw-like fingernails bared.
The specters flew among them, their touch numbing with the preternatural cold of the grave. Sial, reasoning that the spirits would obey him as a devotee of Zon-Kuthon, tried to rebuke them, but to no avail. They showed no preference, nor discrimination in whom they assaulted. So the Zon-Kuthonites found themselves fighting hand-in-glove with the K.I.A. With the two forces fighting in unison for the first time, they managed to destroy the wraiths one-by-one. As the last one faded from existence, Michael, Sial and Laori tended their allies in silence, a sense of shared responsibility overriding animosity.
_____________________________________________________________
The donjon seemed largely abandoned, yet untouched by the passage of the centuries. Given the nature of the numerous empty rooms the allies encountered, the structure obviously served as Kazavon’s personal temple to Zon-Kuthon. Yet there was still a brooding presence in the air, almost as if something…waited. Then, they came upon a chamber that seemed shrouded in writhing shadows. A large, humanoid figure stood motionless deeper in the room. Ratbone crouched, his hackles raised as he stalked slowly forward, waving his companions behind him. As he drew closer to the figure, he realized it was in fact a statue of a cloaked figure with a skull for a head and a spiked chain dangling from its eye sockets…a representation of Zon-Kuthon. The druid relaxed slightly…until he saw a second, smaller figure step from behind the statue. It to was humanoid, its body wrapped from head to toe in filthy bandages. An ornate, archaic pectoral hung from its neck, and an elaborate head dress topped its turbaned head. Ratbone snarled and swung a massive paw at the frail-looking mummy. His eyes widened a moment later when the undead priest grabbed his hand in mid-swing with a vice-like grip. Suddenly, a battle cry roared from behind the druid as Herc rushed to his side. The big mercenary bull-rushed forward behind his shield…and the mummy deftly side-stepped his charge. The creature then raised its free hand and began tracing a luminous sigil in mid-air. Laori cried out in agony as she saw it, her body wracked in agonizing pain. Katarina quickly conjured a mass of darkness to veil the symbol, while at the same time sending the roiling cloud to envelop the mummy lord. The dark tendrils tried to wrap around the priest’s arms and legs, but to no avail.
“To Hades with this!” Raelak barked.
The ranger then loosed a barrage of shimmering arrows, skewering the mummy with each shot. The creature howled and recoiled from the assault, and that was when Ratbone pounced. The druid clamped his jaws down on the mummy’s neck and proceeded to shake the priest like a dog with a bone. He slung his head, flinging the mummy across the room. As it attempted to rise, a lance of pure sound from Kat’s hand obliterated it into a cloud of dust.
_____________________________________________________________
Finally, after searching the donjon for what seemed like hours, Katarina found a well-hidden door secreted in an out-of-the-way corner. Behind it was a narrow flight of stairs that led down. At the bottom was a long hallway which ended at a pair of large double doors.
“The chapel,” Sial whispered reverently.
Ratbone glowered at the priest over his shoulder before he pushed open the doors. The vast chamber on the other side was floored in gray slate and supported by thick pillars of obsidian. Torches mounted on the pillars burned, yet their flames were strangely dim, barely illuminating the cathedral-like space. The pillars themselves were decorated with skulls and bones…tiny white pinpoints of light seemed to dance in the eye sockets of each. To the northwest, a tall statue of a skull-headed man dressed in dark robes stood behind a black marble altar, on which lay heaped mounds of ashes, bits of bone, and a single skull, its teeth and eye sockets set with glittering gemstones. Jagged, barbed chains dangled from the statue’s eye sockets. Thick black curtains hung from the walls of the chamber.
Cautiously, Ratbone moved towards the altar.
“Careful,” Kat warned from behind him. “I sense a strong magic presence beneath that skull.”
The druid nodded and continued forward. When he reached the altar, he tilted his head quizzically as he regarded the odd skull. Then he reached out and simply picked it up, dusting off the ash as he did so. A moment later, the skull floated out of his hand and hovered in the air before him. The ashes and bone on the altar began to scatter as if up in a small vortex.
“Get back!” Herc shouted as he moved up beside Ratbone, swinging his sword as he came. The blade struck the skull solidly, but rebounded off as if it had struck a stone wall.
The large gem in the skull’s right eye socket began to glow red. Farther back in the chapel, Raelak felt a power seize him. It was not his body that was seized, but his soul. For the briefest of moments, he felt his spirit leave his flesh, but then just as quickly, he was wrenched back, yet he felt…drained, and so very, very tired. Feeling like his arms could barely move, he lifted his bow and fired. The arrow struck the skull directly in the frontal bone…and bounced harmlessly off. Ratbone bared his fangs, seized the skull with both hands, and bit down on its cranium savagely. He felt a satisfying crack between his jaws before it wriggled violently in his grip again.
“Hold it still for just another second!” Herc shouted.
The big merc then slammed his shield forward, simultaneously bringing his sword down in an overhand chop. The blade struck the skull directly across the fracture Ratbone had created, and the bones shattered into a thousand pieces, the priceless gems skittering across the floor, their light going dim. In the distance, a final chain snapped, and a soul-freezing roar shook the foundations of Scarwall. Mithrodar was free…
THE SWORD IN THE STONE
Once again, the nine companions stood outside the doors of Mithrodar’s lair. They knew the chained spirit was waiting for them, but they could only hope that what Malatrothe had told them was true…he would be weaker, and perhaps vulnerable, without his spirit anchors. Their whole plan hinged upon it.
All stood poised and ready as Ratbone threw open the doors. Even knowing what they would see, they were still caught off guard by the sight of Mithrodar and his specters hovering directly on the other side of the portals. O’Reginald quickly pulled energy into his hands, and then hurled an orb of pure force at the spirit. Mithrodar recoiled momentarily, but then he and his minions surged forward, the specters passing easily through the walls to insinuate themselves among the allies.
“Now!” Katarina snapped at Michael.
The priest nodded hastily, and began to pray. A wave of energy flowed from his holy symbol, encompassing all of the combatants. In a flash of blinding light, it vanished, but its effects were readily apparent to all. Mithrodar and all of his spectral servants had been rendered corporeal. They were solid flesh once more! Michael followed up immediately by channeling his holy power into the undead, searing their flesh with Iomedae’s wrath. The specters shrieked in horror as they looked down at their all-too-mortal wounds. Then the Brotherhood of Bones was upon them. The priests and the kyton laid about them with their spiked chains like Osirion dervishes. The spirits could not defend themselves. So certain were they in their minds that their incorporeal nature would protect them, they could not conceive of any way to stave off the withering assault of the Zon-Kuthonites. Mithrodar, on the other hand, was all too aware of what Michael’s spell had done. Kazavon’s former seneschal had not risen to that position by being a fool. He turned away from the battle and began to run, but before he had gone five steps, a great weight struck him from behind as Ratbone bowled him over and bullrushed past him, cutting off any chance of escape. Mithrodar snarled as he pushed himself back to his feet, and snapped one of his chains forward, wrapping it around the druid’s ankle. As he prepared to pull Ratbone from his feet, however, five shrieking arrows thudded into his back. His mouth open in shock, the chained spirit turned slowly around, only to have the edge of Herc’s shield slam into his neck.
An inhuman shriek issued from Mithrodar as his body twisted and spiraled as if caught in a vortex. A heartbeat later, he was gone. Within moments, the walls of the castle began to shimmer and brighten as the shadows that had clung to every inch of the cursed structure faded. The sound of countless sighs whispered in the ears of the companions, and the oppressive sense of menace overlaying the structure vanished. The remaining specters simply winked out of existence. At the same time, Katarina felt a familiar presence envelope her. Zellara was free. Her spirit reentered the harrow deck as if returning home. Suddenly, a small luminescence formed in front of the allies. It rapidly brightened until a figure manifested. It was a confused-looking human man in early adulthood. He wore finely cut, if long out of style clothing, and clearly was a nobleman of some sort. As he looked around and noticed the companions, his ghostly flesh began to strip away, revealing raw muscle and bone below as if he were being flayed by invisible knives. After being reduced in such a horrible fashion, however, his skin reappeared a moment later, only to start the process all over again. To his credit, the ghost seemed to hardly notice his continuing mutilation, with only the occasional flinch as a particularly tender bit of skin was tugged away. He began to speak, his accent heavy and archaic, yet his words were clear, manifesting as sounds as much as thoughts.
“You. You have done a great thing today. You have accomplished the conclusion of a legend. What has festered here in Scarwall is no more, and in saving us all, you have returned honor to Tamrivena after these long years of shame…a shame I created, and a shame I was unable to lift. I sent Kazavon into Belkzen, so many ages ago. Eventually, when even my coward’s soul could no longer bear to hear tell of his cruelties, I came here to Scarwall to attempt to undo what I had done in asking for the Midnight Lord’s aid in defending Tamrivena. Yet again, I failed…my general, Kazavon, had me skinned alive and ate the strips raw before my dying gaze. And when I did die, my soul remained, trapped here as surely as any prisoner.
There came a time soon thereafter when Kazavon was finally slain, laid low, as with many of his cruel minions, by a powerful blade borne by a hero named Mandraivus. His blade Serithtial brought an end to Kazavon’s rule, yet could not quench his spirit, for Kazavon was one of the Midnight Lord’s chosen. Mandraivus wisely ordered the dragon’s relics taken away, and remained behind to watch over the castle. The presence of his faith, his strength of will, and most of all, his blade Serithtial kept the spirits of the dead quiet, yet these did nothing to protect him from a baser threat. The orcs came down and murdered him. As he fell, his soul became trapped in these cursed walls. Without his presence, the light of Serithtial went dark, and the spirits of Kazavon’s legacy took hold. This is the blasphemy you have righted today, and now, Scarwall will be left to crumble to dust as the ages march on.
Yet I sense in you that your quest is only partially done. I have dwelt in Kazavon’s echo for too long not to feel his strength, his influence, take seed in your queen, so far away. Strange names that I do not know are in my head. Korvosa. Ileosa. Your own. Kazavon quickens in your home, and you must recover Serithtial if you are to cast him down as surely as you have cast down his presence here. Yet the agents of the Midnight Lord know of the threat Serithtial poses to his child. While they cannot destroy the sacred blade, nor even take it far from this place without invoking the wrath of Iomedae…they can hide it.
I can still feel a presence in this place, a power linked to the Midnight Lord. It remains in the Star Tower, once Kazavon’s inner sanctum. I see that here, in the deepest heart of Scarwall, your goal lies hidden. A fragment of Scarwall’s curse lingers there, lodged and stubborn. When the curse held sway, this way was blocked to you. Now, seek it out, and it shall lead you to your goal. An now, with my time here at an end, your time shall at last begin…”
The end of his speech coincided with the completion of one of his ghostly mutilations, except that his form did not rejuvenate. Instead, it crumpled and slowly faded from view. The House of Tamrivena was at last no more…
_________________________________________________________
“A Star Tower!” Laori exclaimed, awe in her voice. “Who would I’ve thought I’d ever live to see one?”
The companions stood on the roof of the eight-pointed structure that abutted the donjon. A single, stone building with no obvious entrance sat atop the tower. The marble of both the building and the surrounding tower showed no seams and were polished to a sheen, almost as if the entire structure were carved from a single immense shaft of stone. Only on the southeastern wall of the small, stone building was the smooth polish marred. There, a carving of a ten-foot-wide skull with spiked chains dangling from its eye sockets looked out over the castle below.
O’Reginald shrugged. “So? What’s the big deal?”
“It’s ancient!” Laori said, turning. “It was old even before the birth of Thassilon! Its base reaches down to the Darklands, miles below us! It’s also one of many. They are remnants of an ancient war between the gods of Golarion and the Rough Beast, Rovagug. According to legend, Sarenrae and Asmodeus were the two gods most directly associated with Rovagug’s imprisonment…Sarenrae cut open the world to fashion an oubliette, and then drove Rovagug into it, while Asmodeus used a special key to lock him within. What is not as well known, however, is Zon-Kuthon’s role in the capture of the Rough Beast. It was he who reinforced the stitching shut of the world, with Star Towers along key nexus points above the oubliette. They were meant to block Rovagug’s faithful from contacting him. This is one such tower!”
“Yes, thank you for the history listen,” Sial said in a bored tone, “but perhaps we should turn our attention to more practical matters, such as how we get inside.”
The Shadowcount reached out and touched the carved skull. Nothing happened.
“There, you see?” he asked. “Practical.”
Without another word he simply stepped through the wall of the structure and vanished. Asyra did the same a moment later. The K.I.A. turned questioningly to Laori.
“A phase door,” she said, her mouth tight-lipped. “It activated when he touched the skull. Only Zon-Kuthon’s faithful can see it, but it’s there, trust me. Just follow me.”
The inside of the chamber was completely empty, save for a five-foot-wide flight of stairs that wound down into darkness. The companions descended in single file, emerging at the bottom into a large chamber. The walls and floor had a strange organic texture, appearing almost like black, decaying flesh streaked with glistening swaths of blood. Four pillars carved to look like coils of entwined arteries and spinal cords supported the ceiling…nails and surgical tools were embedded in those pillars at key and painful-looking positions. At the base of the stairs was a ten-foot-wide open shaft filled with thick, bluish mist. No sooner had the last of the group stepped into the room, than a disembodied, sibilant voice echoed throughout it.
“Greetings, and welcome to the Star Tower,” the voice said. “Which of you wishes to take on the honor and glory of becoming its new Curate?”
A hush fell over the group as they cast their eyes about the chamber for the unseen speaker.
“Curate?” O’Reginald asked innocently.
“The Curate is the living soul of this Star Tower,” the voice replied. “The Curate lives until the End Times, or until violence necessitates a replacement, and watches over the Star Tower. The Curate is the Star Tower. It is an honor to even be considered for the role, and to be selected and reject it is to spit in the Midnight Lord’s eye.”
“And so the time has come,” Sial spat as he whirled towards Laori. “I have watched you with these heretics as you have drifted further and further from the teachings of our Lord. Taking on the role of Curate is the only way you could hope to atone for your sins!”
For a moment Laori stood agape, and then her eyes flashed with anger.
“It is you who has constantly obstructed our goal of seeing Kazavon’s fangs returned to Nidal!” she shouted. “Perhaps it is you who should become Curate!”
“How dare you address me with some impertinence?” Sial roared, and Asyra moved to his side, her chains gripped in her hands. Sial raised his hands, black energy crackling about them. Laori raised her own weapon, hatred etched upon her beautiful face. Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the room as Ratbone reared up behind the kyton, and lifted her bodily from the ground in a ferocious bear hug. Her spine audibly snapped and she went limp in his arms. He dropped her bonelessly to the floor. Sial turned, focusing his magic on the druid, but before he could strike, Herc leveled him with a hammer-blow from the edge of his shield.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” the big merc grinned.
“I see the choice has been made,” the disembodied voice intoned, a trace of amusement evident. “Priestess,” it said, obviously addressing Laori, “I invite you to accompany me as I escort your compatriot to the Midnight Lord’s palace. There you may testify in person to the Shadowcount’s traitorous acts, if you so desire.”
Laori’s mouth fell open. “I…I would be honored!” she stammered.
“As for the rest of you,” the voice continued, “I know that you are here to reclaim Serithtial, and that you hope to use it to drive Kazavon’s spirit from Queen Ileosa. I assure you that you have no more to fear from Zon-Kuthon. He desires that Kazavon’s spirit be removed from the petty young queen as much as anyone. Such a fate does not befit even a fragment of one of His mightiest warlords. The blade has been taken, but it is not far from here. It is in the clutches of the Children of Rovagug, deep below the Star Tower. You need merely to step into yonder shaft, and you shall be transported to the deeps where Serithtial has languished for so many years.”
At that moment a massive shadow detached itself from the ceiling of the chamber as a massive creature drifted downward. It looked like a great bat formed from pure darkness.
“The time has come,” the nightwing said to Laori as if lifted Sial from the floor.
Laori nodded, but turned to the six companions first. “Know that I only ever meant to aid you, for your goals and mine were much the same. I never intended to betray you. You may call me ‘evil,’ but I am not without honor. May the Midnight Lord guide you upon the rest of your journey, and perhaps our paths will cross again one day.”
With that, the nightwing engulfed both she and Sial and vanished into blackness.
_____________________________________________________________
As each of the companions stepped into the blue light of the pit, they experienced a sudden plummet of vertiginous length, seeming to stretch on for miles and miles. A moment later, however, they found themselves standing in an empty chamber, the air cold and still. The jagged walls of the tower were broken to the northeast by a single stone door, and the floor was polished to a reflective sheen. Thirty-feet above, the ceiling was completely obscured by a roiling bank of glowing blue mist.
The door gave on to a cave tunnel, the walls of which looked moist, yet were strangely dry to the touch, covered with a sheen of glittering mineral deposits. The tunnel wound for some distance before ending in an immense chamber. The rank odor of decay, filth, and wet fur clung to the air with a palpable tenacity. The cavern faded into the dark away to the north. A wide, rocky shelf sat in the southern portion of the cave, and upon this shelf were four crude, domed hovels, each nearly twenty feet in height, and built from crude stone blocks mortared together with a nasty mix of mud, hair, and other assorted debris. Each stone igloo had a large arched opening into its darkened interior. To the north, a silent lake of black waters stretched into the distance. Very few ripples disturbed its surface, giving it the appearance at times of a massive sheet of polished obsidian. Far out in the water to the northwest, a single point of light glowed just above the surface, a bright star whose radiance illuminated a few stony islands about seventy feet out in the lake, though the source of the light was not discernible from shore.
Suddenly, several hulking shapes began to emerge from the darkness of the igloos. Shaggy, black fur matted with filth and debris covered the deformed giants. Their arms split into two forearms at both elbows, each ending in a massive four-fingered claw. Their heads were a travesty of nature, with vertical, fang-filled maws splitting them from what would be crown to chin on any normal creature. Bony protuberances jutted from the sides of their heads, each sheltering a baleful eye, pink and bloodshot. Their horrid appearance was matched only by their stench, a rancid combination of wet fur and decay. With an inhuman shriek, the creatures lumbered forward, their talons snapping viciously. Herc and Ratbone met them halfway. The big merc swung his shield in a short arc as he spun, hammering its edge into the back of the foremost monstrosity. Its spine snapped, and it crumpled screaming to the ground. As Ratbone stepped past it, he bent quickly and tore out its throat. A moment later, an explosion of fire and electricity erupted in the center of the beach, engulfing the arachnid-like horrors. They squealed in agony, but continued charging forward, only to run straight into a whirling wall of blades that Michael conjured out of thin air. One fell, slashed to ribbons, while Raelak opened fire on the others. One managed to free itself, burned and ripped flesh hanging from it in ribbons. It struck the ranger back-hand, sending him sprawling to the ground. As it moved in for the kill, however, Herc was there, disemboweling it with one blow. The remaining three, still writhing within the blade barrier, were instantly immolated as O’Reginald unleashed a second energy ball.
______________________________________________________________
“Can you hear that?” Herc asked as the companions stood on the shore of the lake.
“What?” Michael asked. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Singing…,” Herc said absently. “It’s calling me. Serithtial is calling me.”
“You’re saying that’s the sword out there?” O’Reginald asked. “That light?”
“That’s her,” Herc nodded.
“Then what are we waiting for?” the sorcerer asked. “We’re home free!”
While Ratbone transformed into his avian form, O’Reginald enabled the others to fly. They rose into the air and flew across the dark water, making for the distant island and the glowing blade embedded in the stone there. It was Ratbone who first saw the behemoth rising from the water beneath them. It was a horrible amalgam of man and worm, its flesh split and filled with maggots. The creature was all that remained of Kleestad, once Kazavon’s chamberlain. He had betrayed the warlord by giving Mandraivus the information he needed to strike at Scarwall when its defenses were lowest, and directed the cabal to a secret entrance to the castle. For his treachery, Kazavon intended to reward him with a slow and painful death, yet the warlord only managed to break Kleestad’s ankles before Mandraivus and his companions entered the throne room. Kleestad managed to crawl to safety during the ferocious battle that followed, and remained in hiding throughout Mandraivus’s short reign. When the curse of Scarwall fell, he emerged, half-mad, to find the castle empty of all save the dead. He found Mandraivus’s body and claimed Serithtial for his own, calling upon Zon-Kuthon to witness his victory. Yet the Midnight Lord was not pleased, and transformed the chamberlain into a monster, hurling him into the lightless vault deep below Scarwall, Serithtial still clutched in his hand. Almost a millennium later, the last thrall of Kazavon lived on in his underground prison, in a final twist of fate becoming the guardian of the very blade that laid his master low.
Now Kleestad erupted in rage as he sensed the trespassers in his domain. He roared his challenge, and it was answered by the battle cries of Herc and Ratbone. The two warriors charged the leviathan, tearing into it with steel and claw. O’Reginald hurled fire and lightning, scorching Kleestad’s flank. Then, Kleestad unhinged his jaw, opening it hugely and vomited forth a great gout of black, acidic blood. It burned all whom it touched, and caused their stomachs to seize and clench. Raelak fought the nausea that gripped him and loosed his arrows into Kleestad’s bloated flesh. Finally, a rippling lance of pure sound spiraled from Katarina’s hand and tore through the goliath’s skull. Slowly, Kleestad sank back into the depths, his soul at last free to face Zon-Kuthon’s judgment.
_______________________________________________________________
Herc knelt before Serithtial, her voice echoing in his mind.
‘Do you know me?’ she asked.
“I do not,” the warrior replied, “but I wish to learn.”
‘Before you may know me, noble one,’ Serithtial replied, ‘you must learn the ways of my mistress. Will you pledge yourself to Iomedae?’
“I will,” Herc nodded. He turned to Michael, and the priest instinctively knew what the mercenary asked of him.
“I bless and consecrate you in Iomedae’s name,” he said as he laid his hands upon Herc’s shoulders.
Herc then reached out and grasped Serithtial.
‘Now pledge yourself to me,’ the sword said. ‘Do you swear to spend your remaining days dedicated to the defeat of Zon-Kuthon, and all those who serve him?’
“This I swear!” Herc said. Then he rose, and drew the sword from the stone, holding it high above his head like a beacon of Heaven itself.
Cool... Out of curiosity, what alignment are the various group members?
Kat...NG
Herc...CGO'Reginald...CN
Michael...LG
Raelak...LN
Ratbone...NG
So we have come to a close and who only knows if we survived or if we all perished. Our new AP brings us away from all the cheese that we have so enjoyed. I cried a few tears last night for i am a rat and i live to sniff it out and and make it mine.I expect the mortality rate to be higher. I have no idea weather JD is gonna do the quick version of the rest of the chaptors or full. I should express that I always look forward to the ending the epilogues. So to the Reading community Join us next time where we will have a new spiffy website hopefully with pictures of our dungeon, Player bios commentary maybe even a few snibits of sound/video(probaly R-rated) from our table who knows what will go down on there. Lastly admixtured empowered maximized fireballs was fun until you find out Reflex +28 immunity to fire and try not to roll 8 ones and a two in your 20d6
Peace
Cool... Out of curiosity, what alignment are the various group members?Kat...NG
Herc...CG
O'Reginald...CN
Michael...LG
Raelak...LN
Ratbone...NG
uh Raelak is CG and herc is LN
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Hopefully the good Doctor will finish his updates so we can put a lid on another exciting adventure path. As Supar indicated, we finished CotCT this past Sunday. It was a fulfilling AP, and I think that all the players had a good time. Most of us took on some different classes and had fun playing around with the new Pathfinder rules.
And now for something completely different...
The group has indeed decided to play the Council of Thieves AP straight out of the Pathfinder Core Rulebook. The only minor exception is that I will likely play a Priest out of the Tome of Secrets (partly because I like it, it's not a typical broken splatbook class, and since I bought the damn thing I want to use it). I'm not sure what we'll do without all of our Complete Cheese books and our Cheese Compediums, but I'm sure that we'll manage somehow.
Anyways, at this juncture (Wednesday before the new AP begins), the party is shaping up to look like this: paladin, rogue, monk, wizard (evoker), priest, and ?
So join us soon as we try to crack Paizo's Council of Thieves.
I fully intend to post the complete updates from our final sessions in CotCT. With luck, I'll have the next one up this weekend. Stay tuned!
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Anyways, at this juncture (Wednesday before the new AP begins), the party is shaping up to look like this: paladin, rogue, monk, wizard (evoker), priest, and ?
Actually, I am back on the idea of running a tiefling conjurer again (now that our idea of running all Hellknights won't work), and I think that the last ? (Supar) will end up being a fighter if I am not confused.
HOMECOMING
Katarina dreamed. She was standing in the middle of Vencarlo Orisini’s academy, back in Korvosa. The fencing master paced before her, a look of concern on his face. He paused and looked her directly in the eye.
“Greetings, Kat,” he said. “I’ve secured the aid of one of Janderhoff’s sellspells to contact you in this manner, for things grow dire in Korvosa. Ileosa’s control over the city has grown, and now she holds all of Korvosa in a vice of martial law. Cressida’s left the Guard…she’s gone underground to serve as leader for a group of rebels based in the catacombs under Gray District. While she’s gathered a sizeable force, it alone is not enough to dethrone Ileosa. We must return at once; with Neolandus at our side, and your strength and skill and, hopefully, that magic sword you went looking for, Cressida and I believe we’ll be able to ignite another attempt at rebellion. This should give you just the opportunity you need to storm Castle Korvosa and confront the usurper queen, don’t you think? In any event, Neolandus and I are returning to Korvosa at once. We have secured potions of invisibility and flying…we’re planning on slipping over the southern wall into Gray District at night and meeting Cressida at the Grand Cathedral of Pharasma. Bishop d’Bear is an ally. I strongly urge you to do the same…once we are all in place back inside the city walls, we can only prevail! Contact me or Cressida if you can, but if you cannot, I hope to see you in Korvosa soon…”
_________________________________________________________________
By sundown of the following evening, the Korvosa Intelligence Agency stood outside the temple of Pharasma, in the city’s enormous cemetery, the so-called Gray District. Katarina had transported them through the Shadow Plane, a dimension of gloom adjacent to reality. Distances there were subjective, and the journey from Belkzen to Korvosa had taken only a matter of hours rather than days. As they approached the doors to the temple, Kat used an illusory veil to make them appear as Pharasman priests. An acolyte greeted them warily.
“I was not aware we expecting pilgrims,” he said, “but I will tell the Bishop that you are here.”
A few minutes later, Bishop Keppira d’Bear herself appeared. The high priestess of the Pharasman faith in Korvosa was a non-descript, middle-aged woman, but an air of authority surrounded her. A small smile quirked her lips as she looked over the ‘pilgrims.’
“Follow me,” she said. “I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”
Bishop d’Bear led them down into the vast ossuary below the cathedral, then through an iron door and into a subterranean complex. Eventually they reached a rough chamber where the Bishop excused herself. Smiling broadly, Cressida Kroft stepped out to meet her agents. Behind her stood Vencarlo Orisini, Neolandus, and Grau Soldado, the soldier they had helped when the riots first broke out in what seemed like an eternity ago. Cressida was a bit more ragged and rough-looking in her scavenged armor, but no less the warrior that the companions remembered. The reunion was brief, but joyful, the old friends anxious for updates and tales of what had transpired among then since their last meeting. Eventually, however, Cressida’s face grew serious, and her tone grim.
“I know you’ve not been out in the city,” she began, “but the situation is far worse than you can imagine. Though the streets are quiet and silent, it is the calm of utter oppression. Ileosa and her Gray Maidens have been at work on Korvosa night and day, and the result is a city of broken-spirited citizens desperate for deliverance but too cowed by the atrocities and cruelties witnessed in the streets to rise up. The people of Korvosa need heroes. The rebels that I have gathered are ready to make their move and reveal ourselves to the Gray Maidens. We also plan to make public the fact that Neolandus lives, and as a result, Korvosa has a legal option beyond open rebellion to depose Ileosa. With luck, this will rally the noble houses, arbiters and magistrates, but I fear that doing so will spur Ileosa to step up the violence to even greater levels than before.”
“Before my people can take to the streets, we need someone to take the initiative against the monarchy. We need intelligence from the castle. I have heard rumors about what has been going on inside it…that the Gray Maidens are mind-controlled, that devils and a dragon dwell within its walls, that the Red Mantis are now secretly in control of it, and that Ileosa herself has transformed into a monster. If you are in agreement, I have prepared a list of priorities that I feel need to be accomplished if we are to have any hope of success. First: a new ‘hero of the people’ has been fighting rebels in the streets. These so-called rebels are false. They’re not my people, and I suspect that this ‘hero,’ a man named Trifaccia, is false as well. We need to find out who, or what he is. Second: I have it on good authority that the rumors of a black dragon taking nest in Castle Korvosa are legitimate. If the rumors prove true, the dragon must be defeated. Third: The role of castle seneschal is currently held by a bloated wizard named Togomor. If you can capture or defeat him, we’ll avoid a long legal complication over the revelation that Neolandus still lives. Fourth: Ishani Dhatri, the Abadarian priest that you befriended, has become a vocal opponent of his church’s public endorsement of Ileosa. He has vanished. My initial investigations indicate that he was last seen approaching the castle. Perhaps some clues to his fate lie hidden within? Fifth: I suspect that there are Red Mantis agents sheltered in the castle. Proof of the alliance between Ileosa and the Red Mantis would be very helpful. Forcing the assassins to abandon Korvosa, perhaps by finding and defeating their local leader would be even better. Sixth: The Gray Maidens are certainly a menace. They need to be stopped. Sabina Merrin is their commander. Find and defeat her, and you’ll throw the entire organization into chaos long enough for us to reclaim the streets from them. Vencarlo and Grau believe that she can be reasoned with, and that she may not be as loyal a minion of the queen as she seems. Seventh: Rumors of devils involved with the monarchy disturb me as well. If you can find proof that Ileosa is trafficking with devils, or that devils dwell within Castle Korvosa, that should significantly help our case against her in the eyes of the city’s government. Finally: Ileosa must answer for her crimes. She hasn’t been seen publicly recently but for her brief appearances on the castle walls. If we can capture her, a lot of our work will be easier.”
“If I may interject,” Vencarlo said. “Cressida’s comment about Sabina is true. The woman I knew loved Korvosa, and was honorable to a fault. It was her rigidity of thought and personality, in fact, that held back her progress in the more fluid fighting style I attempted to teach her when she was my student. I have a hard time believing she could condone what Ileosa has done to Korvosa. I suspect the queen is using some sort of magic to control her, and I would urge you to try and use nonlethal methods in dealing with her. At the very least, if she could be made cooperative, she would be an excellent source of information about Ileosa’s plans and what has been going on inside Castle Korvosa for the past few months.”
“Sounds like we have our work cut out for us,” Kat said as she turned to her companions. “Where do you think we should begin?”
“I’m worried about Ishani,” Michael replied. “If he went into the castle by himself, then he’s in a lot of danger.”
“He must have known what he was getting into,” O’Reginald shrugged. “I’m more interested in taking down the bloat mage. Once he’s out of the way, we can go public with Neolandus.”
“Yet if there are fiends within the castle wall,” Raelak said grimly, “their elimination should be our top priority. They are an abomination and blight on this land of my ancestors.”
“If Sabina can be turned to our cause,” Herc interjected, “then perhaps some of the Gray Maidens can be as well. We can always use more swords at our backs.”
Serithtial glowed with approval.
“I believe our first duty is to the people of Korvosa,” Ratbone growled. “It there is a fraud walking the streets claiming to be something he is not, then he is giving them false hope, and they will be less likely to trust us when we make our plans public.”
Kat pursed her lips in thought for several moments, and then nodded.
“I tend to agree with Ratbone,” she said. “Most of these other goals lie within the castle. The more we have the people’s support when we move on Ileosa, the easier our task will be. We’ll stay here tonight and then start digging around for information on this Trifaccia tomorrow.”
______________________________________________________--
That task proved easier said than done, however. The following morning, Katarina veiled the group as nondescript dockworkers, all except Ratbone. His bestial form presented a small dilemma, but Kat solved it by disguising the druid to appear as a large draft horse. They had no difficulty bypassing the Gray Maiden patrols as they entered the city proper, but when they surreptitiously began asking questions about Trifaccia, the answers they received were surprising. It seemed that most of the common folk saw the “rebels” that Trifaccia brought to justice as no more than common thugs who used extortion and terror to further victimize the populace. Since Black Jack was nowhere to be found, Trifaccia was seen as a true hero when such things were in scarce supply. Ultimately, the six companions decided that they would not be able to discover the truth by simply gathering information off the street. They would have to find someone who knew what was really going on in the city, and they thought they had just the person. They decided to pay a visit to House Arkona…
_____________________________________________________________
“We’re here to see Lord Arkona,” Kat told the dubious-looking guards at the main gate of the noble house. “Tell him that the people who helped him with his little ‘family’ problem need to speak with him. It’s urgent.”
One of the guards departed, only to return a few minutes later.
“You may follow me,” he said, “but your horse must stay outside.”
Since Pilts Swastel’s death, House Arkona had expanded to fill the void, brining all of Old Korvosa under their dominion. Their status upgrade was obvious in the new, luxurious trappings of the manor. Lord Arkona greeted them in the same parlor in which he’d originally met them. He looked exactly the same, the look of subtle arrogance on his handsome face so very natural.
“It is always good fortune to meet old friends again,” Arkona said, smiling. “Although I must admit, I really hadn’t expected to see you in this city again. Your names, your faces, they are well known. You are famous, or perhaps infamous would be more accurate.”
“We’re not here for pleasure,” Kat said grimly. “We’ve come back to reclaim Korvosa for its people.”
“I see,” Arkona said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Granted, I would not be unhappy to see the current regime dethroned, but if you’re here to ask for my assistance in this coup, I must politely decline. My family has managed to prosper through the years by remaining beneath the notice of those in power.”
Kat shook her head. “That’s not why we’re here,” she said. “We’re looking for a man named Trifaccia. Do you know him?”
Arkona’s eyes narrowed briefly.
“All I can tell you,” he said at length, “is that the rebels seem to single out the more outspoken merchants and citizens for their attacks. Inevitably, Trifaccia shows up in the nick of time to thwart them, yet oddly, he never kills them. He simply turns them over to the Gray Maidens.”
“I don’t suppose you would know the names of any of these more ‘outspoken’ citizens?”
“As a matter of fact,” Arkona smiled again, “I do…”
____________________________________________________________
The taproom of the inn that Lord Arkona directed them to was fairly crowded as people gathered to have one last drink before heading home in time for the nightly curfew imposed by the Gray Maidens. The five companions strode to the bar and ordered tankards of their own. Ratbone, again is his horse guise, waited outside at the hitching post, his eyes watchful in anticipation of what was to come. Herc downed his ale in one swallow and slammed it noisily back down on the bar.
“So, barkeep!” he said loudly. “What news, eh? We’ve not been in city long, but this place seems as somber as a funeral.”
The tavern owner frowned.
“You’d best mind your tongue, stranger,” he said in a low voice. “The Maidens don’t take kindly to such talk.”
“Maidens?” Herc barked with laughter. “You mean those armored harlots on every street corner? Don’t they serve that spoiled queen of yours as some sort of feminist honor guard?”
“Please!” the barkeep hissed through clenched teeth. Several patrons were paying close attention to the conversation. “I don’t want any trouble!”
“Hah!” Herc laughed again. “Seems like all you’ve got around here is trouble! Averting your eyes and bowing and scraping whenever one of those whores so much as looks at you! What’s wrong with you people?” He turned towards the other patrons. “This is not the Korvosa I’d heard so much about! You’ve become a nation of cowards! Is there no man among you who will speak out against the false queen Ileosa? Has Korvosa lost its heart as well as its soul?”
Several of the patrons began standing up and moving towards the door.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, now!” the barkeep said.
“I don’t think so,” Herc said, turning back. “I think we’re all going to have another round.”
Ratbone watched the customers file out one after another. It wasn’t long before he noticed something else…a squad of Gray Maidens gathering across the street.
As the last of the townsfolk left, the doors burst open, and six heavily armed and armored Gray Maidens stormed in, their faces completely covered by their helms.
“You are all under arrest!” one of them shouted. “You will come along quietly, or face the consequences!”
Raelak whirled from the bar, flinging back his cloak and drawing his bow in one motion. He loosed two arrows simultaneously, and both impaled the necks of a pair of the Maidens. They collapsed gurgling to the floor. The leader of the squad didn’t seem shocked or taken aback. She darted forward and slashed with her sword, opening a large gash across Raelak’s forearm. At that moment, Katarina stepped behind her and put one finger against the back of her helm. The beguiler spoke one word, and unleashed a barrage of mystic bolts at point-blank range. The commander crumpled. The remaining three Maiden’s hesitated, unsure of what to do. In that moment, the door to the bar smashed inward as a large draft horse barreled in and clamped its teeth on the back of the neck of the nearest warrior, and then ripped it out. A second one fell with another of Raelak’s arrows sprouting from her chest. The final Maiden turned to flee, but stopped in her tracks as a spell from Michael paralyzed her mid-stride.
“I’m going to say this once,” Kat whispered in the ear of the helpless Maiden. “You are being allowed to live for one reason. We want you to deliver a message for us. We work for the true rebellion in Korvosa, and we want Trifaccia. Until he shows his face, we will kill every Gray Maiden we see from this point on.”
She then turned and left the bar. Her companions followed, with Herc leaving last. He turned before he walked out the door and tossed a bag of coins to the barkeep.
“Sorry for the mess.”
_______________________________________________________________
The following day, as the companions visited another tavern Arkona said was sympathetic to the rebel cause, a group of rough-looking Varisian men entered the tap room. As they did so, the customers quickly rose to leave. Kat made the young men out to be Sczarni, Varisian organized criminals.
“You!” one of them shouted, pointing at the agents. “We know who you are! So-called heroes! Hah! If you truly wanted to help Korvosa, you never would have left in the first place! Only we, the rebel alliance, have the true guts to stand up to the false queen! Look at the vermin you travel with!”
He pointed at Raelak, and his companions howled in derisive laughter.
“A Shoanti pig! I only wish that you looked more like the ungrateful pig you are!”
As the taunt left the young man’s lips, Raelak felt a wave of power wash over him, and he felt momentarily nauseated and weak in the knees.
“And you!” This time he singled out Herc. “You were the one mouthing off yesterday. It was you who brought the wrath of the Gray Maidens down upon innocent folk! I wish you would just up and die!”
Herc to felt power flow past him, and for an instant, his breath caught in his chest. Kat was becoming suspicious, but as she prepared to begin a spell, the youth stabbed his finger in her direction.
“Traitorous whore!” he screamed. “How could you turn on your own people? I wish you would be condemned to Hell!”
Kat was overcome by sudden disorientation as the room faded away, replaced by a nightmare image of burning plains and tortured souls. Just as quickly, the moment passed.
At that moment, another figure burst into the room. He was slender and dressed in black clothes with a long, flowing, hooded cloak. His features were obscured by a brass mask in the shape of three faces in a row, the central one frontal and the side ones in profile. He carried a golden scimitar in one hand, and it flickered with fire. His mocking laughter was strong and clear. He nodded towards the companions and raised his blade in salute.
“It’s Trifaccia!” the Sczarni cried out in panic. “Let’s get out of here!”
As the men fled, Trifaccia laughed again and addressed the companions.
“Greetings, heroes of yesterday! My name, as you’ve probably guessed, is Trifaccia. I am the true hero of the people of Korvosa, for I defend the loyal citizens of our beloved queen instead of fomenting chaos in the streets. As you can see, with the exception of a few clots of filthy rebels, Korvosa is at peace now, and soon prosperity and happiness will smile over it again. I daresay that peace first began to return not long after you vanished from our streets. We do not want further trouble in our town, sirs and lady, but since I know you mean to continue disrupting the peace in my fair city, it looks like I’ll have to stop you. But instead of a fight that would end in your humiliation, perhaps you’ll agree to a duel? Myself against one of you, with the winner agreeing to take himself and his allies away from Korvosa for good.”
“I think not, Outsider,” Kat chuckled. She had recovered from the magical assault, and managed to complete her spell. Her eyes ablaze, she looked upon Trifaccia’s true form. Hidden beneath the illusory human façade was a creature of fire…an elemental…an efreeti. The fire genie’s true form was a towering, red-skinned brute with sharp horns protruding from his brow, and yellow tusks jutting from his undershot jaw. Efreeti had the power to fulfill the wishes of those who asked, but always in a twisted manner. That was how the Sczarni had been invoking such powerful magic. She waved her hand, and the illusion vanished, revealing the efreeti for all to see.
“Well played,” Trifaccia, whose real name was Yzahnum, grinned evilly. “I see that we shall have to resolve this with more ‘aggressive’ diplomacy.”
At that moment, the front window shattered as Ratbone leaped through it, shedding his equine disguise as he landed in a crouch. Yzahnum whirled towards him, and hurled a blast of fire at the feral druid. In the same instant, the efreeti reached into a pouch at his belt and flung a handful of dust over his head. As it settled over him, he disappeared from view, and even Kat’s True Sight couldn’t discern his location. Ratbone turned this way and that, trying to use his heightened senses to find his foe. Another fiery blast struck him from behind, and then a large gash opened across his flank as an unseen scimitar slashed at him.
Raelak closed his eyes and focused on the totem of his clan, the Moon. Calling upon Her power, he opened his eyes again, and found that he could sense the genie’s presence, though he could not actually see Yzahnum. His hands a blur, he loosed three arrows and was rewarded by a cry of pain from the efreeti. Ratbone’s head whipped around and he leaped for the spot where the arrows had struck. His teeth and claws sank solidly into flesh, and he shook his head like a wolf with a rabbit. Yzahnum screamed in agony and wrenched himself free of the druid’s deadly grasp.
“He’s coming towards you!” Raelak cried to Kat, O’Reginald and Michael.
Kat reacted instantly, and flung out her hand, releasing a shower of glittering, golden dust. It settled over Yzahnum, limning him in a sparkling sheen. Ratbone leaped again before the efreeti could recover, and this time, Yzahnum could not get free. Ratbone ripped and tore like a frenzied shark, until there could be no doubt that the genie was beyond dead. He then lifted Yzahnum’s body into the air and impaled it on a cloak hook that protruded from a wooden column. Finally, Ratbone shifted to his true form and turned to the barman and the handful of patrons that still remained, cowering beneath their tables.
“Tell everyone what you have seen here today!” he snarled. “You have all been duped and cowed into helplessness. Now you have seen the truth behind Ileosa’s lies! The K.I.A. has returned to Korvosa, but we cannot free you if you will not shed your own chains! Watch in the coming days for the signs of revolution! Stand up and fight for your freedom, or hide like rats in the sewers as you’ve been doing. The choice is now yours.”
___________________________________________________________________
Within minutes, the streets around the inn were swarming with Gray Maidens. The K.I.A. watched from a distant rooftop, grim satisfaction on their faces. Things were now in motion that could not be stopped. There would soon be a reckoning.
“Do you hear that?” Ratbone asked, his head cocked to one side.
The others turned their heads and Raelak nodded.
“Screaming,” he said. “It sounds like people screaming.”
A moment later the air was rent by the booming roar of some huge animal. All heads in the streets below turned towards the sky. There, winging its way above the cityscape, was the unmistakable shape of a very large, very black dragon! On the street, people began to flee in panic, Gray Maidens and civilians alike.
“It’s looking for us,” Michael said.
“Of course it is!” O’Reginald snapped. “And if we don’t do something, it’s going to tear the city apart trying to find us.”
As if it heard the wizard’s premonition, the dragon abruptly swooped low and opened its mouth, breathing out a steaming stream of liquid that quickly began to dissolve everything it touched. As it grew closer, the companions could see that it bore a rider…a Gray Maiden.
“That’s it!” Reginald cursed. “If it’s looking for a fight, it just found one!”
The wizard held his hand to the sky and released a small, pea-sized ball of flame into the air. As it arced up a hundred feet or more, it exploded into a huge conflagration. The dragon banked on one wing and began flapping directly towards their rooftop.
“Here it comes,” Ratbone growled.
The dragon hovered above them for a moment, its jaws gaping wide as if to unleash its deadly breath again. The rider sawed on the reins and the dragon turned its head and snapped viciously. The Maiden jerked both reins sharply, and the dragon’s head snapped back. With a roar of fury it landed heavily on the rooftop. As it lumbered clumsily towards them, Raelak loosed a deadly volley of arrows, scoring four direct hits. The beast squealed and reared on its back feet, beating its wings downward as it struggled to get airborne again. Once more the rider pulled sharply on the reins, and the beast’s forepaws slammed back to the roof. It turned its head to snap again, but as it did so, Herc rushed in. With one wide swipe of Serithtial, he cut cleanly through the dragon’s neck, sending its head tumbling over the side of roof. Its body collapsed, thrashing, and throwing the rider sprawling. In an instant, Ratbone was upon her, pinning her arms to her side and pressing his fangs against her neck.
“I surrender!” she shouted. “Unconditionally!”
Ratbone spun her around and wrenched the helmet from her head, revealing the scarred but still beautiful face of Sabina Merrin.
_________________________________________________________
Scarwall again. The companions thought they had seen the last of the ancient keep, but when Sabina asked them to find a private place where they might talk, it had seemed the obvious choice. O’Reginald had teleported them all directly to the former throne room of Kazavon.
“I was foolish,” the Gray Maiden said, bowing her head. “I loved Ileosa…truly loved her, but I was not blind. When the King was assassinated, I began to see that something was dreadfully wrong with her. My fears were confirmed when she began moving forward with the establishment of the Gray Maidens. It was not the foundation of a new military wing that I objected to, but rather the use of magic and torture to force their loyalty. Yet despite this, I had seen enough to know that openly opposing Ileosa was not a solution, so instead of taking direct action against her, I accepted the charge of leading the Maidens. Where I could, I lessened the impact of the queen’s cruel methods. Still, many women who were drafted into service proved too headstrong. Ileosa executed some of them until I convinced her that it would be better to imprison them under Longacre Building, arguing that some of them, given time, might well realize that serving as Gray Maidens was the better choice. I made regular trips to the Longacre dungeons to ensure that they were as comfortable as conditions would allow, and that they were not being abused by the guards.”
“Still…with each passing week, I learned of new atrocities perpetrated by Ileosa…bargaining with devils to gain more power…the appointment of that bloated pig Togomor as so-called seneschal…the murder of Marcus Thalassinus, and finally, the enslavement of that hateful and destructive dragon, Zarmangarof. I had long since realized that Ileosa never loved me…had never loved anyone, with the possible exception of herself. Yet I was in too deep, and I felt powerless to change the unceasing cruelty on my own. I could only temper it where possible. When I heard of your return…you, the same heroes I met what seems like a lifetime ago on the eve of Eodred’s death, I realized that you might be my only chance for redemption.”
“When Ileosa first brought Zarmangarof to Castle Korvosa, from where I do not know, she intended to use him against Korvosa’s citizens, to quell uprisings. I requested to use him as a mount, explaining to her that with such a creature held in reserve, she would be able to put down a large and organized rebellion with ease. She agreed and magically compelled Zarmangarof to serve as my steed. Until today, I had been careful to take him out only during the darkness of night, waiting for the right moment when revealing him would work to my advantage. You provided such an opportunity. I am at your service.”
Silence stretched out for a time as the companions absorbed all that the Gray Maiden had told them. It was Herc who finally broke it.
“She’s telling the truth,” he said.
“How can you be sure?” O’Reginald snapped.
“Serithtial,” Herc replied. “She can tell when a lie is told in her presence. She says that the woman speaks true.”
“Well then,” the wizard said, rising and pacing around Sabina, “why don’t you tell us everything you know about Ileosa’s plans, her current whereabouts, and with whom she’s allied?”
Sabina smiled thinly. “You give me far too much credit,” she said. “Did I not say that I was more Ileosa’s pawn than confidant? She did not share her goals with me. As for her allies and minions, I know that she has been recruiting devils and fiends to aid her, though I’m not certain how she’s been able to do this. I suspect some link to the Acadamae, but my investigations along those lines has failed to turn up any evidence so far. I know that she keeps a pack of large hell hounds by her side at all times, and that a massive, horned fiend named Mavrokeras guards the castle towers. There are also three fiendish brothers, who call themselves Yallops, that have been increasingly annoying and disruptive. Furthermore, agents of the Red Mantis have moved into the third floor of the keep, but I have avoided contact with them and their leader. As for Ileosa’s whereabouts…she has grown ever more cold and grim of late, and for the past several weeks she has rarely left her bed chambers.”
“Well then,” O’Reginald said, clapping his hands, “all the guests are gathered in the same place for the party. Looks like we’ve got a castle to crash.”
CASTLE CRASHERS
Sabina drew a detailed map of the castle, pointing out each area as she did so. She pointed out several possible entrances, but the one that seemed most tactical to the companions was a storage area on the keep’s fourth floor. It was there that Zarmangarof had laired, and the dragon had torn a hole in the floor of an overhang, allowing him to fly out into the night unseen on his hunting forays. As for herself, Sabina asked to be allowed to move against the Longacre Building. If she could draw upon the aid of some of the Gray Maidens still loyal to her, she could infiltrate the building and release the prisoners within. Properly outfitted and armed, they could provide a potent fighting force for the rebels when the time came to retake the city. The group agreed with her logic, and O’Reginald transported the lot of them back to Korvosa.
Once they parted company with Sabina, Katarina cloaked the group in a sphere of invisibility as they flew above the city rooftops to Castle Korvosa. It was only the work of a few minutes to find the concealed hole in the caste eaves and slip inside undetected. They made their way through the empty storage area to the castle’s main attic, heading for the keep’s central stairwell on the far side. Before they reached it, however, Sabina’s map indicated a secluded room off the attic that looked to contain some sort of hidden chamber within. Their curiosity piqued, the companions moved through another narrow storage room, finding a small, locked door on the far side.
Kat made quick work of the lock, and the door swung open to reveal a small apartment. The room was dusty and appeared to have been abandoned for awhile, though it showed an unexpected level of comfort. A large bed sat in one corner, and there was a nice table with two chairs, a desk with a stuffed armchair, a lamp, and a stove. On the east wall was a glass showcase full of rare card decks. There were at least fifty different decks, all displayed with care and competence, most with several pieces laid face-up and with matching leather, ivory or wood cases. What looked like a partially melted stone trapdoor sat in the floor in northern corner of the room, and a single toilet sat behind a partially folded screen to the south. No sooner had the group entered the room, than the sound of furtive scratching came from behind the far wall. Kat, feeling an odd compulsion from the Harrow deck at her hip, moved quickly to the panel. She ran her hands over it and felt a hidden catch. When she triggered it, the wall swung out.
The dusty room beyond contained a well-made bed, a large armchair, a one-legged table, and a silver lantern. On the table near the lantern sat a dusty Harrow deck in an elongated redwood case. As Kat stepped into the room, the temperature abruptly dropped by several degrees. A few moments later, a strange, rolling mist seemed to rise from the cards in the case, causing them to flutter and dance upon the table as if in a small breeze. The mist took on a vaguely humanoid form…that of an older man with tiny horns on his brow…a tiefling! He reached out towards Katarina and whispered in a gravelly voice…
“Bring me my bones…they rot so far below…bring me my bones…I can help you if you bring me my bones…”
A moment later the spirit faded away and the cards became still once more. Kat stood silent for a moment, her head cocked as if listening.
“They’re below,” she said abruptly, turning to her companions. “Zellara tells me the bones are below and she can lead us there. We need to find them!”
___________________________________________________________
The grand staircase wound from Castle Korvosa’s uppermost pinnacle to its lowest dungeon. Kat was single-minded. Zellara kept pulling her down and down, but O’Reginald stopped them on the third floor.
“What?” Kat asked impatiently.
“Look,” the wizard said, “I know you’ve got this precognitive vibe going and everything, but if I’m not mistaken there are a couple of other things we’re supposed to be doing here as well, right? I mean, we can go dig up these bones eventually, but what’s wrong with having a look around as we move?”
Kat rolled her eyes. “Fine!” she snapped. “Whatever, let’s just keep going.”
The third floor landing of the grand staircase gave onto a great salon. The wooden floor, walls and ceiling of the large hall presented a rich and harmonic scheme of decorations. The high ceiling was supported by pillars inlaid with ivory and partially hidden by a hanging forest of silk draperies in the colors of autumn. Near the walls, the draperies reached down to the floor in foamy cascades of deep red and yellow-orange silk. Crimson circular couches sat around the base of the pillars, with matching stuffed stools and low, ebony tea tables with stained glass tops. In the middle of the hall was an empty space that served as a dance floor, and a balustrade opening to the stage hall below. Cautiously, the group started across the hall, Herc and Ratbone taking point. As they reached the center of the room, Ratbone’s snout abruptly lifted towards the ceiling. Herc’s eyes followed and there, among the hanging silks, he saw several hammocks strung, all but hidden from view. Red-clad figures swung out of them, grabbing the silks and sliding down them like glass ropes. Shrill whistles came from their mantis-masked faces as they came, and more figures boiled out of the rafters.
As the first of the assassins hit the floor, Herc was already in motion. He struck the foremost mantis solidly, shield lowered, slamming the murderer back over a dozen feet. The big mercenary leaped after him, bringing down the edge of his shield on the assassin’s neck before he could rise, insuring that he never would do so again. Meanwhile, Ratbone seized another in his jaws, shaking him savagely and snapping his neck before tossing his limp body aside and turning on another, disemboweling him with a vicious rake of razor-sharp claws. Three more Red Mantes landed deftly, circling the two warriors. Abruptly, a blinding spray of color struck one of them from behind from Kat’s outstretched hand. Ratbone leaped on the stunned man like a dog on a rabbit. Another of the assassins tumbled towards and over the balustrade, but as he began to fall, he was stopped short, hanging in mid-air
“Not leaving so quickly, are you?” O’Reginald smiled. He had erected an invisible force wall across the opening, and as the mantis tried to rise to his feet on the slippery surface, Herc ran him through with Serithtial. Ratbone turned on the last of the assassins, his jaws dripping blood. The man screamed in mortal terror as the druid rushed towards him.
“Nicely done, heroes,” a woman’s voice sneered from behind the companions, “but Ileosa isn’t paying us just to dance with you. Once you’ve gained the attention of the Red Mantis, you’re living on borrowed time, and now the time has come for all debts to be paid!”
The voice belonged to a deadly beautiful young woman whose lucent white skin was offset by her raven black hair. She wore the familiar garb of the Red Mantis, save for the insectile mask. She carried a saw-tooth saber in each hand, both crackling with electricity, and her waist and legs where festooned with a multitude of scabbarded throwing daggers.
“I am Kayltanya,” she said, smiling through bared teeth. “I tell you this only so that you might tell whatever Power you hold holy whom it was that sent you to your final reward.”
She then raised her hands high above her head, and as she did so, two great plumes of crimson smoke appeared in the middle of the chamber, and from each of them erupted an enormous praying mantis, their carapaces studded with wicked hooks and spikes, their compound eyes gleaming blood red. Both of them rushed forward, but Herc stood his ground directly in their path. With two quick flicks of Serithtial, the mercenary decapitated both of the fiendish insects, causing their bodies to vanish as quickly as they’d appeared.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he chortled.
“Not quite,” Kayltanya grinned in return. In a flash of scarlet light, the mistress of assassins vanished, only to reappear a moment later across the room, standing directly behind Michael. The priest turned, his eyes going wide as he realized his peril. Kayltanya’s blades moved in a blur, opening horrible wounds in Michael’s chest and belly. She whirled, leaping into the air as she drove her blade completely through him, the tip exploding in electric fire as it struck. Slowly, as if time had suddenly contracted down to a pinpoint, Michael slumped to his knees, then to his side, his eyes wide and staring.
“Told you,” Kayltanya said, turning towards O’Reginald.
Then it was her turn to widen her eyes as Herc hurtled into her like a charging bull. He struck like raging dervish, sword and shield a symphony of motion. When his last blow fell, Kayltanya tumbled backwards over the balcony and plummeted to the ballroom below.
From the dim shadows in the far corner of the salon, a lone mantis assassin watched. His blood boiled for vengeance, but he knew his duty. He silently slipped away into the darkness. He had to warn the seneschal.
_________________________________________________________________
“What are we going to do without Michael?” Herc asked.
“Better?” O’Reginald offered, earning him a withering look from Katarina.
“We’ll come back for him when we’re done here,” she replied.
“Assuming we survive,” O’Reginald grumbled.
“If we don’t, then Michael’s already better off where he is,” Kat snapped.
One by one, the remaining companions dropped over the salon balcony to the stage hall below. Sabina had told them that Ileosa had been spending most of her time in her chambers of late, and the map she’d given them showed the royal bedroom to be on this floor. There was a foyer off the stage hall that gave onto the bedchamber, but there was also a secret door which led from Sabina’s chambers nearby. Their plan was to post Herc outside the secret door, while the rest would enter via the foyer. That way Ileosa could not easily flee, and would be caught in a pincer. When they entered Ileosa’s room, however, it was empty. The walls were paneled with darkwood planks and decorated with elaborate tapestries and hanging silks. A double canopied bed dominated the northeast part of the chamber, while to the southwest stood a desk and stuffed armchair. Stained-glass windows along the southwest wall depicted complex patterns of swirling reds, fiery oranges, and bright yellows. The bed appeared to have not been slept in for some time.
“What now?” O’Reginald asked.
“The throne room,” Kat said without hesitation. “The map shows it just down the hall. Let’s go!”
As they turned and left, alien eyes watched them go. Sermignatto, known to some as the Lord of Bloody Quicksands, lurked nearby, but an infinite distance away. He lay hidden on the Ethereal plane, adjacent to reality, but so far removed as well. The bdellavritra fiend followed after the companions, moving easily through walls as if they were mist, sending out a silent call to his minions, summoning them to battle.
____________________________________________________________
The magnificent throne room was lavishly decorated with frescoes, mosaics, and hanging tapestries of gilt crimson silk. Three colorful stained-glass panes on the windows presented scenes of past kings and queens. A huge fireplace stood in the east corner, its mantle shaped like an enormous stone tree that had spread its branches up to the ceiling. Against the southwest wall, on a low dais of granite, sat the Crimson Throne itself, an iron throne draped with deep red silks and velvety crimson cushions. Four Gray Maidens stood on the floor below the throne, and each held a length of thick iron links attached to spiked steel collars worn by four massive hounds, easily the size of war horses. The hounds had fur of deep umber, and their eyes glowed crimson. Flames licked from their jaws as their tongues lolled and acidic drool pooled around their clawed feet. Seated upon the throne was none other than Ileosa herself, the Crown of Fangs upon her brow.
“Welcome, my friends,” the young queen smiled as the five companions entered her presence. “I thank you for seeking me out. I’ve been observing your progress over the past few months, and I’m grateful for the assistance you have provided the people of Korvosa.”
In an instant, the smile vanished from her face and her demeanor turned icy.
“Now, however, your services are no longer needed. If you leave Korvosa immediately, and never return, I will not see your execution as traitors to the Crown.”
“It is you who have betrayed Korvosa, witch!” Katarina shouted. “And it is you who shall be leaving Korvosa and its people, one way or another!”
As Kat’s words echoed through the throne room, Ratbone leapt into motion. The feral druid somersaulted over the hounds and Gray Maidens, landing in a crouch before the Crimson Throne. Before Ileosa could react, he reached forward with one clawed hand and snatched the Crown of Fangs from her head. As he turned and leapt away again, Katarina drew a scroll from her belt and quickly read the arcane words written there. With a roar like thunder, five tons of wood and stone appeared out of thin air above the Crimson Throne and crushed Ileosa beneath. Just like that, it was over…only her minions didn’t seem to know it. They learned better moments later when O’Reginald’s fireball roared through the deadfall, setting it ablaze and immolating one of the Gray Maidens. The warhounds ignored the flames completely, their abyssal blood rendering them immune, but they could not ignore Ratbone’s fangs, nor Serithtial’s bite. Three went down in a haze of blood and fur, then the druid and merc turned on the last one and the remaining Maidens. The fight was over before it had really had a chance to begin…or so they thought.
________________________________________________________________
“Now!” Togomor commanded the squad of Gray Maidens who waited outside the throne room in the entry hall. The bloat mage had heard Sermignatto’s summons, and had been compelled to respond, despite his own self-loathing at being manipulated as if he were no more than a puppet on a string. The Maiden’s surged through the throne room doors as the seneschal quickly rendered himself invisible and followed behind.
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Ratbone tore furiously at the deadfall. He had seen Ileosa…smelled her! He knew she had been there, yet he couldn’t sense her now. Surely she could not have died so easily. Then there was the matter of the Crown of Fangs. For an item reputed to be so Evil…it felt like nothing more than a cold iron trinket. His search was interrupted a moment later, however, when the doors at the far side of the throne room burst open and another dozen or more Gray Maidens rushed in. Ratbone turned, snarling, blood frenzy in his eyes. Suddenly, the air in front of him seemed to freeze solid as a searing polar blast of energy struck him from out of nowhere. He reeled, pierced by a pain he had never before experienced. Chilled to the marrow of his bones, he collapsed to his knees.
O’Reginald turned towards the invading Maiden’s as well, and he saw where the polar ray had originated from, though he could not see the caster. He didn’t need to. He hurled a ball of fire and acid into the midst of the Gray Maiden’s, and when it exploded, it engulfed the area where he knew the unseen wizard to be. Then Herc drove into the midst of Ileosa’s guards, hacking and slashing with Serithtial, cutting down a half dozen of the badly burned women before they could recover from O’Reginald’s blast.
Ratbone slowly felt the numbness seep from his limbs and he surged to his feet. He raised his muzzle to the air and sniffed. He closed his eyes and began making odd clicking sounds with his tongue. The vibrations they set off in the air around him bounced back to his hyperacute ears from the people and objects around him, and there, at the far side of the room, he sensed a presence he had not seen when his eyes were open. His eyes still closed, he leaped, and Togomor’s stench of blood nearly overwhelmed him as he closed on the bloat mage. Jaws gaping, he clamped his fangs down, but it felt as if he had bitten into raw granite. A moment later, the mage was gone.
Togomor thanked whatever Powers still favored him that he had the foresight to cast the stoneskin spell upon himself before he’d entered the battle. Fortunately, the savage’s bite had done little actual damage, and he’d been able to teleport quickly away. Still invisible, he now stood on the far side of the room, directly behind the male and female wizards, and the archer. Quickly, he spoke a few arcane words, and instantaneously erected a wall of pure force across the throne room, separating the druid and his sword-wielding companion from the rest of their allies.
Ratbone roared in impotent rage at the escape of his foe. He turned this way and that, slapping Gray Maidens aside like ragdolls as he searched for Togomor’s scent. Then…he had it! Behind O’Reginald and Kat! He bounded on all fours across the room, but halfway through, he slammed head first into an invisible wall. Howling and snarling, he clawed and bit at the barrier, but to no avail.
“Now,” Togomor spoke, still unseen, “where were we? Ah yes…I was just about to kill you all!”
He hurled a flashing barrage of arcane bolts at Katarina, and the sorceress reeled from the impact. As she fetched up against the force wall, she countered with her own magic, filling the air with glittering dust. It settled over the bloat mage, limning him in gold for all to see. A moment later, the wall behind her vanished as O’Reginald erased it from existence with a bolt of disintegrating power. Togomor shrieked as he saw Ratbone lunging towards him. He tried to fly to the ceiling, but the druid seized his leg. As Ratbone’s claws closed over his flesh, he felt a burning cold run through him. Looking down, he saw golden ice covering him from foot to mid-thigh, and rising rapidly. Within moments, his torso and arms were covered in the stuff. He couldn’t move…could barely breath. He drew his last shuttering breath as Ratbone’s jaws closed over his windpipe.
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Any news Joseph Jolly? Is your group planning any new wonderful campaign?
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RPG Superstar 2010 Top 32
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Council of Thieves, I believe.
The character intros are in the enworld story hour section already, and also here.
It's as good as ever :-)
I'm completing the SH of Curse of the Crimson Throne as we speak, but our group has also started Council of Thieves. I posted a preview of it on ENWorld, but we're also setting up our own website, which we are currently debugging.
BATTLE WITHOUT HONOR OR HUMANITY
‘Now!” Sermignatto screamed mentally through the ether. ‘Destroy them all now!’
The bdellavritra was enraged at the loss of his favorite pawn. He’d spent years cultivating Togomor and then placing him within Ileosa’s inner circle, and now it was all ruined! No matter. Once the mortals were dead or enslaved he would find a new vessel. He’d ruled many a kingdom from behind the throne, and Korvosa would be no different. Ultimately, the city would belong to him. Even now his minions were answering his summons. Within moments the meddlers would be surrounded, and there would be no escape for them.
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The companions stood amid the carnage, breath coming in ragged gasps. Warily, Ratbone stalked back towards the deadfall. Cautiously, he began lifting the logs aside, piece by piece, until finally he saw a flash of crimson near the bottom. When he’d finally cleared enough of the debris aside, he saw only Ileosa’s clothing and a pool of blood. Of her body, nothing remained.
“A simulacrum,” Kat said from behind him, where she peered over his shoulder.
The druid grunted questioningly as he turned to her.
“A construct,” she explained. “Some wizards used them as proxies. They make a body out of ice, blood or other materials, and them imbue it with false life. This is not Ileosa. We’ve been mislead.”
As if on cue, the air within the throne room suddenly exploded with the smell of sulfur and brimstone as multiple creatures teleported into the chamber. No fewer than nine black-winged erinyes devils appeared circling in the air, wickedly curved bows in their hands. Near the entrance to the chamber, a huge fiend stood with curving ram-like horns and a cruelly spiked chain gripped in his hands. Before him were three identical barbed-skinned devils, giggling and chortling evilly to themselves. Mavrokeras, the horned minion of Sermignatto, cracked his chain and sent the Yallops charging forward. One of the brothers wove his hands in a complicated pattern, and the air before him spun and churned. From within the vortex emerged four more fiends, these with beards like thorny brambles. They appeared in between Raelak and O’Reginald just as the ranger unloaded his bow on one of the fiendish Yallop brothers. A moment later O’Reginald seized the Shoanti by the arm and whisked both of them to safety by stepping between dimensions. No sooner had they reappeared than the wizard conjured an invisible wall of pure force between themselves and Mavrokeras, the Yallops and their summoned henchmen.
Herc touched the golden breastplate of his armor, and wings of purest silver sprouted from his back. He leaped into the air of the throne room and closed rapidly towards the deadly erinyes archers. Below him, Ratbone assumed his avian form and took flight as well. The she-devils turned their bows on their approaching enemies, but Ratbone closed the distance too quickly. He raked across three of them, ripping their bows from their hands. The others grinned savagely, and then redirected their shots below. Three arrows struck O’Reginald, slamming the young wizard into a nearby wall. Two more hit Katarina, one of them taking her through her left eye. She screamed in agony as she clutched at the projectile. Raelak whirled and loosed his own volley in return, impaling one of the erinyes and sending her tumbling towards the ground. Ratbone disemboweled another, transformed into his ape form in mid-air, ripped the wings off a third fiend, and then plummeted towards the floor with her still screaming in her death throes.
At that moment, the Yallops abruptly teleported themselves past O’Reginald’s barrier, reappearing next to him, the still-sobbing Kat, and Raelak. The ranger turned towards them, but as he did so, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could react, a masked Red Mantis assassin drove a saw-toothed saber into his back. As his vision blurred, he saw three more assassins emerge from the shadows. A moment later, he would have sworn he was hallucinating as almost two-dozen Gray Maidens swarmed into the throne room.
Herc saw the dilemma his companions were in, and he turned his attention from the erinyes and dove back towards the floor. One of the Yallops whirled as he approached, and Herc slammed into him shield-first. The fiend screamed as bones cracked, yet Herc grunted in pain as well when the sharp barbs on the devil’s hide pierced his arms and hands. Suddenly, the big merc heard more screams…coming from Kat and O’Reginald! He looked up and saw that the erinyes had opened fire again, peppering the two wizards like sitting ducks. Desperately, O’Reginald flung out his hands, conjuring a second force wall between the devils and themselves. Herc’s attention was quickly drawn back to the wounded Yallop as Raelak sent a shaft through its forehead and point-blank range. It collapsed in a heap at his feet. The ranger’s satisfied smile faded a moment later as a second Yallop leaped at him, shrieking and tearing at him with its razor-like claws. Herc surged to his feet, raising his shield high above his head and then bringing it down on the back of the fiend’s exposed neck. A tingling, sixth-sense from Serithtial warned him just before the last Yallop brother came for him. Herc spun low, thrusting upward with the holy blade and burying it in the devil’s gut. It spewed black blood from its stretched mouth, and then crumpled.
“At least that’s one problem out of the way,” the mercenary sighed.
“I think we’ve got a bigger one,” Raelak said, his eyes going wide.
Herc turned slowly, and saw the massive form of Mavrokeras looming over him, his spiked chain gripped tightly in both hands. Then, it was Mavrokeras’s turn to widen his eyes as the four-armed, ape-like hulk of Ratbone landed behind him. The feral druid ripped and rent with all four claws, and as he did so, a thick rime of gold-flecked ice covered the horned devil from head to toe. Mavrokeras toppled to the floor, completely encased.
The Yallops were down, as was their master, Mavrokeras, but they were only four, and more than two dozen foes remained. The remaining erinyes archers began teleporting past O’Reginald’s second wall at the same time that the Gray Maidens began knocking arrows to their own bows. Ratbone pulled one of the she-devils from the air almost as an afterthought, yet the sheer numbers arrayed against them was overwhelming. It was at that precise moment that Sermignatto chose to make his presence known. The bdellavritra was an amphisbaenic monstrosity with the body of a mottled, slimy slug. At one extremity of its body was the wormish mouth of a leech, while at the other was a knot of three human heads, their features contorted in expressions of incredible pain. Between the teeth of his three human mouths lashed three elongated, writhing tongues, each slashing through the air like hair-thin, deadly blades. The fiend was not at all happy with the turn of events, and the time had come for him to play a more direct role. Before the drop-jawed mortals could react, he filled the area around them with a soup-like, green rolling fog. He chuckled to himself as he imagined them trying to move through the quicksand consistency of the cloud, all the while their skin being scalded by the droplets of acid concealed in its vapors. His mirth faded a moment later when the cloud abruptly vanished. It was the accursed Harrow witch! Even with an arrow through her eye, she would not die! Suddenly, the air crackled with electricity as the younger mage wove a cone of lightning, engulfing several of Ileosa’s maidens and assassin allies. Sermignatto snarled in rage and slithered eel-like into the fray.
The horde surged forward, blocking the bdellavritra from view temporarily. Herc met them head on, Raelak at his back loosing arrow after arrow in a blur of motion. Two more of the Mantis assassins went down, and then O’Reginald loosed another deluge of electricity into the mass, and more Maidens fell. A hole opened, and Herc saw his opportunity. He leaped forward, dodging the slashing tongues of the huge fiend. Serithtial howled in fury as she struck, and Sermignatto howled as well…in agony. Raelak moved also, but he was a fraction of a second too slow. One of Sermignatto’s tongues lashed out, wrapping around his throat. The ranger’s face began to turn an ugly shade of purple. With a guttural snarl that was purely animalistic, Ratbone hurled himself at Sermignatto. The druid and the devil clashed like titans, but it was obvious to any onlookers who the victor would be…and it soon became obvious to Sermignatto as well. In desperation, he tried to shift himself back to the Ethereal, but Ratbone would not release his hold, and he kept the fiend firmly anchored in reality. It was over in moments, and Ratbone raised his head and howled, blood dripping from his fangs and claws.
The remainder of the battle was furious and frenetic, with numbers pitted against might. Magic pulsed and steel clashed. Arrows flew and blood spilled, but in the end, though battered and beaten, the Korvosan Intelligence Agency stood victorious, with not a single one of their foes left alive. Silence fell over the throne room once more…and that silence extended throughout Castle Korvosa as well.
Nicely done in the throne room ... KIA indeed. ^_^
Nicely done in the throne room ... KIA indeed. ^_^
Thanks! It was epic...that one fight took us five hours of game time! I only have two more updates plus an epilogue to conclude this story hour. Hope to have one up a week and finish by New Year's.
Nicely done in the throne room ... KIA indeed. ^_^Thanks! It was epic...that one fight took us five hours of game time! I only have two more updates plus an epilogue to conclude this story hour. Hope to have one up a week and finish by New Year's.
I don't doubt it. The summons abilities of the various outsiders add an immense layer of complexity to game play.
I had a similarly massive slobberknocker for my group, basically pitting Sermi, Torgor and a gaggle of the other named baddies all stomping on the then-8-character group as part of the PF Beta playtest. It was a similarly epic battle.
Nicely done in the throne room ... KIA indeed. ^_^Thanks! It was epic...that one fight took us five hours of game time! I only have two more updates plus an epilogue to conclude this story hour. Hope to have one up a week and finish by New Year's.I don't doubt it. The summons abilities of the various outsiders add an immense layer of complexity to game play.
I had a similarly massive slobberknocker for my group, basically pitting Sermi, Torgor and a gaggle of the other named baddies all stomping on the then-8-character group as part of the PF Beta playtest. It was a similarly epic battle.
Well, there are two very unexpected twists coming in the last two updates, and the final battle puts this one to shame!
I hope Kat gets her eye back...
As you'll see in the next update, Kat has more things to worry about than a missing eye...
I hope Kat gets her eye back...As you'll see in the next update, Kat has more things to worry about than a missing eye...
"The Gods saw fit to give me a spare." ^_^
THE LUCK OF THE DRAW
The companions stabilized their wounded as best they could, but without Michael, it amounted to little more than field dressings. Katarina climbed to her feet unsteadily, a heavy bandage over her injured left eye.
“We’re not going to find Ileosa here,” she said to the others, “but I believe that Zellara’s guidance is still sound. We need to find the final resting place of the specter and return his body. Perhaps he will be able to tell us where the Queen has retreated.”
The pull of Zellara’s Harrow drew Kat and her comrades to the ground floor of the castle and into the servants’ quarters. There she paused at a seemingly blank wall, and then ran her hands over its surface. Her fingers triggered a hidden catch, and a section of the wall slid aside, revealing a narrow flight of stairs that led down. At the bottom, a passageway branched northeast and southwest. To the southwest, the way seemed to have once been closed off after only a few feet by an ancient brick wall, but a man-sized hole appeared to have been fairly recently smashed through it.
“That is the way,” Katarina nodded.
Cautiously, they followed the sorceress down the narrow hall. It gave onto an elongated chamber, the walls of which were decorated with bas-reliefs depicting a great market in a bustling city. The floor was littered with debris and fragments of ceramic, glass and bronze, as if hundreds of containers had been smashed to pieces long ago. Four alcoves in the southwest wall each contained a statue of a kneeling servant with an oversized head, but the statues were too crumbled to be otherwise recognizable. A narrow archway exited on the far side. As the companions made their way across, their light fell more fully across the statues. They began shining with a phosphorescent glow, and at the same time, each of the companions felt their throats grow dry with the taste of salt, and their eyes began to itch ferociously. A moment later, the statues flashed with blinding light, and the air became as dry as the harshest Osirion desert. Each of the agents felt the moisture being literally sucked out of their bodies, leaving them parched and gasping for breath. A moment after that, salt-crusted, androgynous figures emerged from each of the statues, their eyes huge, milky, opaque orbs. O’Reginald, rubbing furiously at his eyes to clear them from the light blindness and salt, opened them only to meet the gaze of one of the oncoming creatures. In that instant, his heart simply stopped, and he slumped to the floor. When Kat, Ratbone, Herc and Raelak finally cleared their own sight, they were stunned at what they saw, yet they had not survived for so long by being paralyzed by the sight of death, even the death of one of their own. Ratbone and Herc rushed two of the bodaks, obliterating them in a frenzy of claws and steel. Raelak dispatched the remaining two with arrows placed with precision through eyes and throats.
“I hope this is worth it,” Herc said coldly as he glared at Katarina. He lifted O’Reginald’s limp body over his shoulder and stalked through the archway on the far side of the chamber. The room beyond it seemed to be a dead end. The air felt cold and clammy. The ceramic floor, walls and ceiling were lined with light brown tiles that formed gentle geometric patterns. On the far side, an ancient coffer sat atop a single low plinth of stone. Kat walked slowly over to the coffer, which stood open. Its interior was empty, but there were several fang-shaped shadows burnt into the bottom. Then, at an impulse from Zellara, her eyes rose to the far wall. On closer inspection, she saw that a section of it appeared newer, of more recent stone work.
“Ratbone,” she said, turning to the druid, “can you get through that?”
In answer, he punched one massive fist through the wall, revealing it to be hollow on the other side. A partially decomposed corpse, mouth agape in a painful death scream, lay slumped against the wall of the otherwise empty chamber. The corpse, clad in a rich, dark purple outfit, was one of a thin, bearded humanoid with pointed ears and a pair of vestigial horns sprouting from his brow.
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A short time later, the four companions stood in the specter’s apartment once more, with three corpses at their feet. As they laid the tiefling’s body on the floor, the apparition appeared again, but this time not as just a misty outline. He looked to be a translucent elderly tiefling man with a deck of Harrow cards that periodically flew out of his hands to spiral around him before returning to his clutches. He regarded the quartet with kind but sorrowful eyes before he began to speak.
“Thank you for taking my bones from that dreadful, dark room below,” he said. “My name is…was…Venster Arabasti, and in life, I was half-brother to King Eodred. As I’m sure you’ve deduced by now, Ileosa killed my brother. Poisoned him, to be specific, but you may not know of my role in that dreadful deed. I was seduced by Ileosa’s promises of power and love, but I do not seek to shift the blame for my own shortcomings. In the end, I got what I deserved I suppose, when Ileosa walled me up and left me to die. Now, as long as she continues to live, I shall remain bound here, unable to emerge from this room, imprisoned by my own shame and guilt. Still, perhaps I am not completely beyond redemption. Perhaps, through you, I can help to undo what I helped set into motion, and perhaps move on to face Pharasma in the afterlife and accept my fate.”
“During my imprisonment here, I could sense the queen’s thoughts and desires as long as she was in the castle. That knowledge has long tormented me, but I now realize that it was all simply preparing me for this day…for my chance at redemption. I know that Ileosa plans on using potent magic found in a place called the Sunken Queen to achieve eternal youth. Although I don’t know exactly what this entails, I do know that the ritual is based on ancient magic indeed…ancient magic that requires the lifeblood of an army of unknowing sacrifices. I fear that Ileosa has been grooming the citizens of Korvosa to be the blood sacrifice she needs to achieve her goal. Even now I can feel strange and potent forces gathering in the spirit world as she makes ready to take the final step.”
“The church of Asmodeus has been gathering blood samples from the citizens…,” Kat whispered.
“Can you tell us more about this Sunken Queen?” Ratbone asked.
Venster shook his head in frustration and growled low in his throat.
“Death has not been kind to my mental faculties,” he snapped. “It is difficult for me to recall details of what I knew in life, let alone fragments and snatches of thoughts and feelings I sensed after my death. Still, you should seek out my mother’s tower. It is a place where the monarchs of the Arabasti line could go for peace and solitude. I have sensed Ileosa in this location several times, and often her most notable burst of sudden inspiration and power occurred in that chamber.”
“There is one final gift I might give you. Many have died in Korvosa due to Ileosa’s whim and cruelties, and each death has bolstered my grief and desire to set things right. Further, you yourselves carry with you a spirit of your own…the Harrow reader Zellara.”
At that moment, Katarina suddenly felt an empathic burst of excitement and fear from Zellara.
“By using the deck she gave you as a focus,” Venster continued, “Zellara and I can siphon the spiritual power and energy of those who have died at Ileosa’s hand or orchestrations into it, transforming it into a powerful tool and method for the spirit world to grant you further insight and power. I warn you, however, that not all of the spirits are kindly ones; many were insane and cruel in their own lives, and there is, unfortunately, no way to exclude them from this infusion of power. Zellara and I can, though, moderate their influence by focusing them through the traditions and mysticism of the Harrow itself. Will you accept this?”
The other three looked at Kat, and she nodded once, decisively.
An instant later, Zellara manifested in the room beside Venster. The cards of her Harrow deck flew out of their pouch at Kat’s belt and began to spiral and spin in between the two spirits. As they concentrated, the anger and wrath of the city’s dead siphoned through them to infuse the cards, which began glowing brighter and brighter. After only a few moments, with a final flash of light, the cards settled into a neat and tidy stack on the table and then both ghosts vanished.
“We each must draw,” Kat said. “First, however, you must declare how many cards you will take. That declaration will bind you. If you do not draw all, they will be drawn for you, and you must still abide by their weird. However, Venster’s and Zellara’s sacrifice will allow you to discard once only, but you must then redraw. Choose wisely.”
“I will take two,” Ratbone said. “Perhaps I will discover something that will return O’Reginald and Michael to us.”
The first card Ratbone turned was the Mute Hag. ‘Your best-kept secret becomes known,’ Zellara’s voice intoned in the druid’s mind. He accepted this without reservation, knowing instinctively that anyone who saw him from that day forward would know him for a shape-shifter. He turned his second card…the Wax Works.
‘Several vengeful duplicates of you shall appear some distance away, but they shall seek you out and seek your death.’
Again, there was no hesitation in Ratbone’s decision. He knew the extent of his own power, and knew that many, if not all of his friends would die if the fate revealed by the card were to come to pass. He discarded it and drew another…the Inquisitor.
‘You may know the answer to your next dilemma,’ said Zellara.
Ratbone’s shoulders slumped. Not the help he had hoped for.
“I will draw next,” Kat said, as she took a seat at the table. “I will choose the maximum draw allowed…four.”
Kat did not need Zellara to explain to her the results of her choosing, for she was a master of the Harrow in her own right. She turned the first card. The Tangled Briar. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Somewhere at that moment, one of their past enemies had just been returned to life and was even now seeking revenge. She thought briefly of redrawing, but decided against it. There might be greater need. She turned the second card. The Winged Serpent. She barely stifled a broad grin. She had just been granted one wish. Feeling more confident, she drew the third. Her face blanched when she saw it…the Sickness. She began feeling ill immediately, and she quickly discarded the card and drew again, the sweat fading from her brow as she did so.
“Oh…shards!” she said as the next card was revealed…the Twin!
Before the stunned gazes of her companions, Kat’s body began to change. Her shoulders broadened and her hips narrowed. Her bosom shrank away completely, coarse facial hair sprouted from her jaw and upper lip, and somewhere below her waist, she felt a truly startling sensation. Within a matter of seconds, Katarina had been transformed into a man! He grimaced at the expression on the faces of his friends, aware that there was nothing for it but to draw his last card. The Mute Hag appeared again. Intuitively, Kat knew that his ability to disguise his appearance was forever lost. Everyone who now saw him would know exactly who he was.
“Next,” he sighed, rising from the table and adjusting himself beneath his skirts.
Raelak swallowed hard as he looked down at the cards.
“I think I’ll only have two,” he said.
His hand shaking only slightly, he drew his first card.
‘The Rabbit Prince,’ Zellara said. ‘From this point forward, your fighting prowess shall become more lethal in the extreme, but in exchange, your defenses against your foes shall be weakened.’
The ranger shrugged. “I can live with that,” he said. He turned his second card.
‘The Tyrant!’ Zellara shouted in horror. ‘No!’
At that moment, a rift opened in reality, and a creature that had a bipedal, reptilian body, at least twenty-feet tall, with two baboon-like heads and tentacles instead of arms began to step through, reaching hungrily for Raelak.
“Redraw! Redraw!” the Shoanti screamed, and an instant later the rift snapped shut as a third card turned from the pile.
‘The Teamster,’ Zellara said, her voice still shaky. ‘You will undertake a dangerous quest for a great reward.’
Raelak sighed. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he grumbled.
Herc was last. He gripped Serithtial as he sat at the table.
“I’ll take four,” he said tonelessly, then reached for the pile.
‘The Brass Dwarf,’ Zellara said. ‘You are now immune to the effects of fire, but electricity shall be your bane.’
Herc nodded and drew again.
‘The Inquisitor once more,’ Zellara repeated the explanation of Ratbone’s draw.
Herc shrugged and drew.
‘The Tangled Briar,’ Zellara said, her voice grim. Another enemy returned from the grave.
Herc drew the last card.
‘The Winged Serpent,’ Zellara announced joyfully. ‘Another wish!’
As the last card was drawn, Zellara and Venster reappeared.
“I hope that I have been of at least some assistance to you,” he said. “I offer you this one last boon.”
He removed a ghostly signet ring from his finger, one which bore the crest of House Arabasti. He dropped it onto the table, where it landed with a solid thunk as it became wholly real.
“This will open my mother’s study,” he said. “You will find it at the top of the tallest tower. Thank you again for all that you have done, and all that you shall do.”
With that, he slowly faded from view. Zellara’s expression was one of hope as she smiled at each of her champions, and then gave Kat a single ectoplasmic kiss on the cheek before she too faded away entirely.
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The two wishes the comrades had received were ultimately the easiest of their dilemmas. Despite Kat’s altered physique, at least she was still alive. The same could not be said for O’Reginald and Michael, and so, with two carefully worded requests, the wizard and priest were restored to the world of the living once more. There were many questions to be answered, not the least of which was Kat’s new gender. Once the pair was brought up to speed, Ratbone suggested another use for one of their boons.
“We need to know the fate of Ishani,” he said, referring to the mystery of what had happened to the Abadaran priest after he had entered Castle Korvosa. “I choose to use the boon granted to me by the Harrow deck for this purpose. Show me Ishani Dhatri!”
The air crackled and rippled with dark energy before them, and a hulking shape appeared. A grim statue hovered there, its slow, seemingly weightless bobbing belying its obvious bulk. Sculpted in the shape of a grim, horned angel, gigantic wings and terrible, long-clawed arms jutted from a legless body that tapered into a blunt, blade-like trunk. Upon the ominous form’s breast hung the fresh remains of the crucified corpse of Ishani Dhatri. No sooner had the nightmare construct appeared, than Ishani opened his mouth and began to scream and scream. At the same moment, a blast of pure evil emanated from the figure, and Kat felt his soul literally being drained from his body. His own screams joined those of Ishani. Ratbone snarled, morphing into his feral form as he leaped at the demonic statue. He bit and clawed, his talons and fangs tearing stone and shadowstuff from it. For the first time, the construct lurched into motion, and it grappled with the druid with its own clawed hands and spiked wings. It hurled Ratbone away from it, which gave Raelak the opening he needed. The ranger loosed a salvo of gleaming arrows into the thing, and it shattered into a thousand pieces. Ishani’s body stopped screaming and fell to the floor, a lifeless husk.
“What…was that?” Herc gasped.
“An akaruzug,” O’Reginald said. “A construct spawned in Hell, but coveted by evil mages for the power it provides, drawn from the souls of the living, or once-living.”
“Can…can Ishani be brought back?”
“I believe so,” Michael replied. “His soul was not allowed to depart, but was kept bound. Thus, it should still be accessible.”
The priest bowed his head and began to pray over the Abadaran’s body. A warm glow settled over Ishani, and his face became peaceful. A moment later, he drew in a long, shuddering breath and opened his eyes.
“My friends,” he smiled wanly. “You do not know the depth of my gratitude, both to you for saving me, and to Abadar that you still live.”
“Not half as grateful as we are,” O’Reginald smirked. “Unfortunately, we’re not staying here long.”
He told the priest all that they’d discovered about Ileosa and her diabolical plan.
“I have heard of the Sunken Queen,” Ishani said when the mage had finished. “It is an ancient Thassilonian ruin located in the Mush Fens. There is an odd, rocky formation known as the Green Reef which lies some thirty miles due south of it. I can draw you a map and you can use that as a landmark.”
“We are grateful,” Kat said. “Then, I’m afraid, we must bid you goodbye, my friend. You should find Cressida. She will need your help organizing the resistance.”
_________________________________________________________________
Following Venster’s directions, the six companions made their way to the top of the tallest tower in Castle Korvosa, only to find an empty room. Ratbone placed the prince’s signet ring upon his finger, and as he did so, a shimmering portal appeared in the air above them. One by one, they climbed through. They found themselves in another small chamber, but this one contained a single large bookshelf filled with dozens of books and scrolls. Nearby, a single desk and chair stood. Sitting on the desk was a single large book with a black leather cover. Kat picked up the book and read its title aloud:
“Truths of the Sihedron,” he said.
It smelled faintly of brimstone and was written in the infernal language of Hell. He flipped through it for several minutes. It contained seven chapters, one for each of the Thassilonian Runelords. He paused at the chapter dedicated to Runelord Sorshen, the Runelord of Lust. The chapter had been heavily glossed in Ileosa’s delicate penmanship. In particular, it seemed she was particular obsessed with something called the Everdawn Pool, a device she appeared to believe still existed in the ruins of the Sunken Queen. According to the notes, the gathering of samples of blood from thousands of ‘supplicants’ was but the first step. Once the pool was ready, it would be able to draw forth the lifeblood of those thousands to infuse a single creature with eternal youth. In short, it seemed that Ileosa intended to sacrifice most of Korvosa’s citizens to attain immortality.
Kat turned his attention to the other books and scrolls on the shelves, hoping he would find even more information of Ileosa’s plans. He wasn’t disappointed. He found her written plans on how she had poisoned her husband, a letter of contact to the Red Mantis, and an outline of how she had planned to use blood veil to murder many of Korvosa’s undesirables. Lastly, among a batch of magical scrolls, including two that allowed the summoning of powerful extraplanar beings, Kat found something very enlightening indeed. It was a sheet of parchment that appeared to be made of human skin, covered with writing in human blood. It was, essentially, a contract between Ileosa and Sermignatto, in which the fiend agreed to provide the queen with infernal aid, minions, and even a bound devil to augment her body and mind. In return, Ileosa promised to turn over part or all of Korvosa to the bdellavritra and his unspecified superiors once she had finished her current goals.
“I think it’s time we took a little trip to the Mushfens,” Kat concluded as he rolled the parchment back up and tucked it into his cloak.
__________________________________________________________________
Kat once more transported himself and his allies through the murky lands of the Shadow Plane to swiftly reach the edge of the Mushfens. From there, it was a relatively simple matter for Michael to use his own magic to first find the path to the Sunken Queen, and then transform himself and the others into mist to be carried speedily along the wind. In hours, instead of days, they reached their final destination. Surrounded by a grove of primeval mangroves and draped in immense sheets of moss and vines, the horns of the Sunken Queen seemed to claw at the sky like the blind talons of an immense monster drowned in an abyss of mud. On the east side of the great pyramid, which leaned heavily into the marshy slough, one of the three original horns had collapsed, leaving a jagged, metallic stump. On the south side, barely dented by the elements and millennia of neglect, was a giant relief of a standing, naked woman, her lean idealized figure immersed in murky water up to the knees.
“I do believe that Ileosa may have inadvertently provided us with unlooked for aid in her hasty departure for this desolate redoubt,” Michael said as he and the others solidified once more.
“What are you talking about?” O’Reginald asked.
“Watch and learn, my arcane friend,” the priest smiled. “Not all things can be explained by experiments and laboratories. Sometimes you just have to have faith.”
Michael took one of the scrolls that Kat had retrieved from Ileosa’s hidden library, and unfurled it.
“Iomedae!” he called to the heavens. “Hear the plea of your faithful servant! Our need is great, though it is not for ourselves that we seek your grace! Thousands of innocents are suffering, and will suffer more at the hands of Hell and its foul machinations should we fail in our quest! We beseech thee, by the power vested in this prayer, to send us what aid you would, that we may bring low these servants of evil, in your most holy name!”
All was still for a moment. Even the sounds of the swamp life went eerily quiet. Then, the air was rent by a bolt of blue lightning that struck the ground directly in front of them. As the blinding light faded, a tall form appeared. He stood well over ten-feet, and his skin was the color of purest gold. Wings so white they brought tears to the eye of those who looked upon them, sprouted from his broad shoulders. He wore burnished, gilded mail on his muscular frame, and in his hand he gripped a mighty sword that glowed with the power of Heaven itself.
“Your call has been heard, and I have been sent,” the solar said in a voice that sounded like a choir of angels. “I am called Pez, Dispenser of Justice. What service do you require of me?”
“Holy One,” Michael said, kneeling. “Our tale is long, but our time is short. Suffice it to say that an artifact of great evil has been put into weak, human hands. This has been done by the designs of agents of Hell, so that thousands of mortal souls can be claimed for its flesh pits. We go to destroy this artifact, and she who wields it. Will you join us?”
Pez merely nodded, his eyes flashing with golden light. He had walked among mortals before, and had found them to be worthy allies. He was eager to do so again.
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Kat is a DUDE???
Noooooo....
So she lost an eye, but gained a... never mind.
Sorry... He.
I think he should've used a wish to regain his previous gender. ;) And let Michael use a resurrection spell on O'Reginald. But that's just me. ;)
So... Will he keep his name, or change it to a male name?
Did the group really rush to the Pyramid without even resting after the castle? Or was it edited for brevity?
It's interesting to read. The castle was a big challenge for this group, much bigger than anything they've encountered so far. I thought they would have an easier time of it.
Kat is a DUDE???
Noooooo....
So she lost an eye, but gained a... never mind.Sorry... He.
I think he should've used a wish to regain his previous gender. ;) And let Michael use a resurrection spell on O'Reginald. But that's just me. ;)
So... Will he keep his name, or change it to a male name?
Did the group really rush to the Pyramid without even resting after the castle? Or was it edited for brevity?
It's interesting to read. The castle was a big challenge for this group, much bigger than anything they've encountered so far. I thought they would have an easier time of it.
Kat kept HIS name as Kat, or Cat. You'll have to wait for the epilogue to see his ultimate destiny.
Yes, the group did rest, but I usually leave the more mundane things out to keep the story moving.
The castle was a challenge because during the group's fight with the leader of the Red Mantis, one of the assassins escaped and sounded the alarm. This brought the entire castle's forces down on them at once, so it was one, long, non-stop brawl.
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Actually, as I recall from the session, Raelak had already used his redraw when he got sucked away by the Tyrant. Kat used his/her wish to get him back. Of course, that's been a while now. I could be wrong. I also recall that we had a rash of terrible die rolls during the invasion of Castle Korvosa. Bad luck has killed more PCs of mine than anything else. I should actually write Kat's epilogue for you, Joe. Who knows, she may change back yet...
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Actually, as I recall from the session, Raelak had already used his redraw when he got sucked away by the Tyrant. Kat used his/her wish to get him back.
Oh, that's too bad, because I wondered if in fact (s)he might have used his/her wish to ask "I wish for my body to be restored to the way it was this morning", thereby regaining both her gender and her eye.
It was awfully nice of Kat to use that wish to save Raelak!
Also, I wonder if the Harrow Deck was properly shuffled, because it seems like several cards came up twice?
Also, I wonder if the Harrow Deck was properly shuffled, because it seems like several cards came up twice?
The Harrow Deck was reshuffled after each person drew...equal opportunity screwing!!
Any guesses on which two villians will be making a return engagement??
Any guesses on which two villains will be making a return engagement??
The elder of the Kreeg Clan and the lich - freed at last - from his ashen phylactery: Foxglove Manor ?
Any guesses on which two villians will be making a return engagement??Pegg and Loute?
LOL!!
Sermignato and Mavrokeras?
The dragon and something else nasty from Castle Scarwall?
Right on one count...
The elder of the Kreeg Clan and the lich - freed at last - from his ashen phylactery: Foxglove Manor ?Any guesses on which two villains will be making a return engagement??
Ooooohhh....the liche...not a bad thought!!
Ooooohhh....the liche...not a bad thought!!The elder of the Kreeg Clan and the lich - freed at last - from his ashen phylactery: Foxglove Manor ?Any guesses on which two villains will be making a return engagement??
Considering that his ill will was powerful enough to inhabit an entire mansion on a failed attempt at becoming a lich ... well, we're talking about one really nasty customer.
I encourage tweaking that particular BBEG to the upper limit of your group's ability to handle and (theoretically) win. ^_^
CROWN OF FANGS
It became readily apparent after a cursory reconnaissance of the exterior of the pyramid, that the main entrance must be submerged under water. In fact, it looked as if fully half of the structure’s interior could conceivably be flooded.
“We are not constrained to travelling upon the physical realm,” Pez said as the companions debated their best course of action. “I can take you into the Ethereal plane, where such obstacles as stone and water will pose no hindrance.”
“Assuming Ileosa hasn’t warded this place against such intrusions,” Kat replied.
“There is nothing to be lost in the attempt,” the solar said flatly.
The group gathered around the tall angel, and in an eye blink, they found themselves within the gauzy, misty realm of the Ethereal. They moved as if in a dream, descending into the water as if it were no more than a fog. Beneath the surface, they found a large, open arch that led into the pyramid’s interior. Stairs descended, and near the bottom, the tilted stairway dropped into a horizontal layer of silt. The walls and pillars were decorated with hundreds of stylized images of the same beautiful woman carved onto the pyramid’s face.
“Strange,” Pez murmured as they passed down the stairs. “The walls still feel solid, as if they exist here as well as on the prime. Your little queen is canny after all.”
The stairs emerged into a large hall, with several wide passages opening off at each compass point. Curled into a ball in the center of the chamber, apparently sleeping, was a devil fish of enormous proportions. The group moved past the slumbering behemoth, but to their surprise, the creature’s eyes snapped open immediately. As they moved down another passage, the creature turned and slowly began to follow.
“How does it see us?” O’Reginald asked. “It’s just an animal!”
“I wouldn’t make any assumptions about anything we find within these walls,” Kat muttered.
The passage gave onto to another chamber, bare save for a large, crystal globe that hung suspended between two square pillars. The sphere was connected to the pillars by thousands of glittering crystalline filaments. A crystal tube extended up from the eastern side of the sphere through a hole in the ceiling. Inside the sphere was a staggering amount of treasure: coins, art objects, rolled-up tapestries, bars of precious metals, and more. Despite the trove, wealth was the furthest thing from the minds of the six companions. Beyond that chamber lay a room whose flagstone floor was almost completely covered by a bed of rotting swamp algae which piled up to a high heap in the far corner. The mangled, rotting carcass of a fifteen-foot-long alligator floated in the opposite corner amid a huge pile of strange bones. Throughout all of this, the devil fish continued to pace them.
“I grow weary of this!” Ratbone growled. “If this creature knows we’re here, then it might be a spy for Ileosa. Let us be rid of it now!”
Kat looked at the others, and each nodded in turn. Then he turned to Pez.
“Bring us out once we’re in position,” he said.
The companions began to circle the creature, and it spun this way and that, trying to watch them all. At Kat’s signal, Pez waved his hand and suddenly the world became solid once more. Immediately, the leviathan lunged and latched onto Raelak’s leg. The ranger was caught off guard and struggled to bring his bow to bear from extreme close range. When he loosed his arrow, however, the shaft buried itself in his own foot. If he hadn’t been holding his breath under water, he would have screamed. A moment later, however, the fish released him as Pez swept out his greatsword, which flamed even beneath the water. The solar slashed viciously at the devil fish, and black blood began to cloud the room. More blood followed as Ratbone launched himself at the behemoth, both of them tumbling over and over in a death roll. In desperation, the fish released a deluge of acidic bile, catching Pez fully in its explosion. The angel doubled over and retched as the foul fluid filled his lungs. Raelak fired blindly into the cloud, praying he wouldn’t hit Ratbone. Suddenly, the water in the room crackled with electricity as O’Reginald loosed a ball of living lightning. Slowly, the cloud dissipated and a large shape floated slowly to the ceiling. The devil fish wasn’t moving. Ratbone still was, though the multiple wounds and burns on his body left him limping more than swimming.
________________________________________________________________
One unfortunate side effect of no longer being in the Ethereal, was that the companions could no longer breathe while they were underwater. Quickly, they began to swim, hoping to find an air pocket, or access to the upper levels of the pyramid. Thankfully, they came upon a large, silt-floored chamber, its walls and ceiling lined with cracks, with a large archway in the ceiling that opened into a steeply angled shaft leading upward. Water filled they shaft, and they were able to swim up its length. At the top, it opened into a partially flooded room, which in turn gave on to other chambers, each also partially water-filled, but each less so than the last. Eventually, they found another chamber with a shaft leading up, but this one was completely dry, and O’Reginald was forced to teleport himself and his allies to the top. There, they found themselves in a large room that was actually warm and pleasant. The floor, walls and ceiling were tiled with polished rose-colored marble slats, and weaving in and out of the walls, climbing from the floor to the ceiling above, were dozens of thin crystal tubes. Yet another shaft rose through the ceiling on the room’s far side. Quickly, the company started across the room. Something urged them onward, telling them that their goal was close. Before they were halfway across, however, the air around them exploding in flashes of blinding light. When the glare faded a moment later, six black-winged women of exquisite, yet sinister beauty hovered in the air around the companions. They wore gleaming, mithral shirts, and each carried a trident wreathed in flames. As one they shrieked in fury and dove.
Raelak spun, knocking and releasing two shafts in one fluid motion. They both struck one of the charging fiends. She jerked to one side briefly, but recovered immediately and rejoined her sister in their assault. When they struck, they hit like thunder. No one was spared, save Raelak, the ranger’s deadly bow keeping the attackers at bay. As their weapons rammed home, they exploded in flame, searing flesh and bone alike. Pez snarled, enraged at the foul touch of the fiends upon his holy flesh. He backhanded one of the erinyes into a nearby wall, sending her slumping, stunned, to the ground. O’Reginald, never one to miss an opportunity, hurled an orb of glowing force at the downed devil. At the same time, Raelak sank a final arrow into her throat, guaranteeing she wouldn’t get up again.
Meanwhile, Herc whirled on his assailant, Serithtial flashing as she bit deeply into the fiend’s unholy hide. The erinyes reeled towards Ratbone, and the druid’s tree-trunk sized tail slapped her back, snapping her neck instantly. Kat staggered away from the flaming tines of the trident nearest him. He flicked a hand over his shoulder, and the pursuing fiend stopped dead in her tracks. A moment later, however, she broke free of the spell with a tremendous surge of will. Several yards away, Michael raised his sword to block a second blow from his foe, but the priest was too slow. The erinyes batted his weapon aside easily, and then impaled him through his gut. Gurgling, Michael collapsed to the floor. O’Reginald cursed and quickly erected a wall of steel-strong force between himself, Michael and Kat, and the remaining fiends. Pez stepped to Michael’s side and laid his hands upon the priest. Michael gasped as the life that was leaving his body suddenly surged back.
“I owe you one,” he said shakily to the solar.
Herc charged another of the erinyes from behind, Serithtial keening as she pierced the devil’s spine. So thick was the fiend’s skin, however, that the aftershock of the blow jolted the holy sword out of the merc’s hand. He bent to recover her, and as he did so, Ratbone leaped atop the crippled fiend, ripping her throat out with his teeth. A moment later, however, another of the devil women sank her trident into his shoulder. She prepared to strike again, but as she did so, Raelak spun her completely around with a shot that went clean through her own shoulder.
O’Reginald cursed again as two of the walled-off erinyes suddenly vanished and then reappeared next to him. Quickly he brought the wall down so that his allies could reach him as well. Herc and Ratbone hurled themselves after the fiends, the merc slashing through one of the black-feathered wings of the nearest, while the druid’s claws tore through her flesh, simultaneously sheathing her in golden ice, rooting her in place. Only three of the erinyes were still moving. One of them thrust her trident at O’Reginald, stabbing it through his foot just as the mage teleported a safe distance away. Raelak fired at another as she leaped upon Ratbone’s back, stabbing repeatedly. Raelak fired twice more, and then Ratbone spun, knocking her aside and ripping her trident from her hands as she fell. As she struggled to her feet, Raelak put one final arrow through her throat. Several yards away, Herc sparred with another of the she-devils. She thrust and parried valiantly, yet Serithtial drew blood time after time, until finally she sagged to her knees and Herc swept her head from her shoulders. He turned just in time to see the last of the fiends teleport next to O’Reginald again. Raelak fired after her, but his arrow went cleanly through her bicep, slowing her just enough for Herc to reach her. She raised her weapon to impale the mage, but Herc struck first, severing her spine cleanly. Unnoticed by any save Pez, Michael limped slowly towards the erinyes still paralyzed by Ratbone’s holy ice. Her eyes grew wide as he raised his sword and then plunged it through her heart.
“In Heaven’s name I send you back to Hell,” the priest intoned.
Pez’s golden eyes flared with respect, and he nodded once to the wounded cleric.
_______________________________________________________________
The last vertical shaft led to the apex of the pyramid. There, the companions and their angelic ally found themselves in a huge, very high chamber illuminated by braziers at its four corners. A soft light also filtered from two very high oval windows on the southwestern wall. The twin windows were fitted with panes of blue crystal that allowed in some light from the outside. Below these crystal ‘eyes,’ a band of mosaics on the south wall formed a single, huge map of an ancient, unknown land. The map featured a river valley with many villages, each one labeled with a long-forgotten, strange name. Yet the most unusual feature of the room floated and undulated at its center…there, an amorphous blob of blood, over thirty-feet wide, floated and rippled in the air. Shapes seemed to form periodically on its rippling surface: faces, hands, buildings, and figures that lasted only long enough to melt back into the horrific mass. Dozens of thin, crystal tubes extended from the upper walls of the room to a point just above the shifting mass of blood.
As the companions stared in wide-eyed amazement, the Everdawn Pool began to shake and rumble. It rippled briefly into a familiar shape…the Korvosa skyline…only to crumble as if during an immense earthquake. A moment later, the beautiful yet furious face of Ileosa appeared in the blood as she shrieked in rage. Three humanoid-shaped blobs detached themselves from the pool and floated to the ground. They looked like blood-soaked giants clad in tattered robes…wraiths! At that same moment, Ratbone’s keen senses detected the presence of others in the room, unseen. He barked at Kat, and the sorcerer quickly dipped his fingers in his belt pouch and dabbed a small amount of salve over each eye. Instantly, the features of the room leaped into perfect clarity…as did two invisible forms that looked all-too-familiar…Togomor and Sermignatto!
“Beware!” Kat shouted, and he plucked a lantern from his belt and placed it on the floor. Its light spread throughout the chamber, and as it did so, Ileosa’s hidden allies were revealed for all to see.
“Time to even up the odds a bit,” O’Reginald said.
He pulled a scroll from his cloak and quickly read the incantation. A glowing, golden ring appeared beside him, and from out of stepped a second angel.
“Greetings Ajax,” Pez nodded. “You’ve arrived just in time.”
“So it would appear,” the planetar said flatly.
“Alas, the first kill shall be mine!” Pez laughed.
He flung one hand out towards Togomor and then clenched his fingers. The bloat mage’s eyes went wide for a split-second, and in the next, he simply imploded.
“Let the games begin!” Raelak shouted as he loosed a volley of force-infused arrows at the nearest of the dread wraiths. The enchanted shafts existed on the ethereal plane as well as they material, and they impaled the spirit’s incorporeal body like spikes. The creature shrieked as it shrank away to nothing. At the same time, however, a second wraith swiped one clawed hand at Herc, leaving great rents in the breast plate of his armor.
The blood pool began to roil and churn again. Then, from the bottom, Ileosa dropped to the floor. In rapid succession, however, seven identical figures dropped to the floor as well…more simulacrums. As one, they began to sing, weaving spells as they did so. Raelak and Kat clutched their heads in agony, and then their eyes went completely blank. Their fog cleared a moment later, however, as O’Reginald hurled an orb of electrified acid into the midst of the false queens. Three of them dissolved into pools of blood. Ajax obliterated three more with a bolt of holy fire, and Pez dispatched the last of them with his own blast.
The dread wraith struck Herc again, but as the mercenary spun with the blow, Serithtial flared in his hand. The holy blade slashed the ghost’s form apart as if it were no more than tattered rags. The last of the wraiths joined its brethren under a second barrage from Raelak’s bow. As the final spirit faded away, the Everdawn Pool rolled one final time. Ileosa flowed out of it as if from a womb, the Crown of Fangs set firmly upon her brow. Her eyes blazed with fury and hatred. She turned her horrid gaze upon Ratbone as the druid charged towards her, and she waved her hand absently. In an instant, Ratbone felt many of his mystical enchantments stripped from him, including the spell which granted him an extra pair of limbs. At that moment, Sermignatto made his move. The bdellavritra conjured a roiling fog around the companions…a fog that burned like acid as it touched their skin. It lasted only a moment, however, as Kat banished the spell as quickly as it came. As soon as the mist cleared, O’Reginald conjured a second globe, this one of fire and lightning, and slammed into Ileosa. As the demon-possessed queen reeled and screamed, Ajax hurtled towards her. The angel reached out one hand, glowing with power, and laid it upon Ileosa’s chest. Her eyes flew open wide and she screamed again as the divine energy siphoned her life-force from her. She wrenched herself free of the angel and hurled him away from her.
“Destroy them!” she screamed at Sermignatto.
The devil gathered dark energy around him, and the air crackled with malign power. Just before he released it, however, O’Reginald struck him with a sphere of hardened force. The bdellavritra hissed as his focus broke and his spell faded. His three heads spat and hissed, their tongues darting like snakes. In a rage, he flew at O’Reginald, wrapping one of his serpentine tongues around the mage’s neck. O’Reginald’s face began to turn blue. He could not even draw in enough air to speak a spell that might free him. In desperation, he reached down and touched a small anklet that he wore. In a flash he vanished out of Sermignatto’s grip, only to reappear a moment later where Herc had been standing. In that same instant, Herc vanished, reappearing right next to Ileosa.
“Serve me!” the queen hissed, but it was not Herc that she spoke to.
Her gaze was fixed firmly upon Raelak. Herc followed her glance, and his own eyes widened as he saw the ranger bend his bow to its limit. His disbelief turned to shock as the arrow struck him in the center of his back. His legs went numb as he crashed to the floor.
As Ileosa gloated and chuckled, Pez lurched into action. Invoking Heaven’s name, he charged the b%@*!-queen, and slashed at her with his glowing blade. In the same moment, Kat lashed out with a lance of pure sonic energy, and Ileosa was again hurled backwards. On the floor below, Ajax climbed dizzily to his feet, just in time to see Sermignatto slithering towards him. The angel flung out one hand, and spoke a single word of power. The fiend stopped dead in his tracks, momentarily stupefied. Before he could move again, Herc leaped upon his back and drove Serithtial through his central head. Like Togomor before him, Sermignatto’s second chance at life was short-lived.
Ileosa’s fury continued to grow. Her eyes blazed at her thrall, Raelak, and her words burned into his mind like a brand.
‘Destroy the angels!’ she commanded.
Agony rippled across the Shoanti’s face as he struggled in vain to control his own muscles. Yet inevitably, he turned towards Ajax, drew back his bowstring, and loosed. Ajax howled as the force arrow impaled his back, and he sank to one knee.
“No!” Herc shouted as he hefted Serithtial and charged towards Ileosa.
“Fool!” the young queen spat. “Dance!”
Just like that, Herc stopped suddenly, and then his feet began to move again, but not by his volition. They began to tap and shuffle, carrying him around the floor in a horrible caricature of dancing. Fear and loathing fell across his face.
“Enough!” Ileosa slashed her hand horizontally, and Herc’s feet stopped. “Now, ‘hero,’ you will flee! Flee as if Asmodeus himself pursued your immortal soul!”
Herc’s mind went blank with blind panic. Serithtial fell from his numb fingers to clatter on the flagstones, and he turned to flee as he’d been commanded. Before he could take one step, however, Ratbone reared up in front of him, all fangs and claws, roaring and howling. For a brief moment, Herc was brought up short.
“Now!” Kat shouted. “Strike together!”
He hurled a sonic lance towards Ileosa, while O’Reginald simultaneously conjured a whirling blast of cyclonic wind. The combined assault threw the queen back again. Below, Ajax rushed to Herc’s side, wincing at the pain that still lanced through his spine, and laid his hands on the mercenary’s shoulders. Herc felt his heart rate slow and his breathing ease. The fear left him, only to be replaced with righteous anger. He knelt down and retrieved Serithtial. He turned towards Ileosa, and their eyes locked.
“Come then!” the queen hissed.
Black power crackled in her hands as Herc rushed towards her, but before she could release it, Pez was there. The angel spoke his own Word of power, and the force of his will silenced Ileosa before she could utter a word. By then, Herc was upon her. Serithtial struck like a coiled serpent, piercing Ileosa through the throat and heart. She tried to gasp, but only choked as she collapsed to the floor. Herc raised Serithtial a final time and swept the Crown of Fangs from her brow, shattering it to pieces.
Suddenly, the Everdawn pool began to shudder and shake. A moment later, a draconic talon lanced out from one side, an immense skeletal wing from another. The entire room began to rumble, and a growing roar filled the air, quickly rising to deafening levels. With each passing moment, an immense shape of blood and darkness rose from the pool, building itself into a mighty, blue dragon from the inside out. Lightning crackled and chains of iron began to writhe and snap throughout the room. The chains seemed to wrap around the draconic form and transform its flesh, organs and muscles.
“The Chains of Zon-Kuthon!” Pez cried. “Kazavon rises again! The sword!” He whirled towards Herc. “Use the sword!”
Herc didn’t hesitate. He launched himself towards the dawning horror, raised Serithtial in both hands, and drove her straight into the dragon’s still-forming heart. In a flash of near-blinding radiance, the entire creature abruptly exploded in a blast of gore. The silence that followed was deafening…
God I love your guys adventures
When will the website be up and what is it?
I read some sad but understandable news on ENworld Jollydoc will not be doing a story hour for Council of Thieves
Hope the web site can still go up with some small summarys and the Characters
I read some sad but understandable news on ENworld Jollydoc will not be doing a story hour for Council of Thieves
Hope the web site can still go up with some small summarys and the Characters
Latest news...our Council of Thieves campaign is about to conclude, and we'll be starting King Maker in the next month or so. We are very excited about this new type of campaign, and I will be resuming my story hour writing with it.