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<blockquote data-quote="Alexander Bryant1" data-source="post: 7568063" data-attributes="member: 6916184"><p><strong>Journal of Etona 24</strong></p><p></p><p>Our full party departing for points unknown consists of:</p><p>Verdre and myself</p><p>Rey Dragon-Child, with “Robi”, her new Obi-in-war machine</p><p>Jodan, Burning King of the Past</p><p>Treig, our scowling schemer</p><p>Young Egan doing the bidding of his latest masters</p><p>And finally, Kaio the Monotone. I had hoped to have interesting conversations with him, but he is more golem than man, nothing like Loring at all.</p><p></p><p>We teleport to the Spire of Long Shadows landing – if that is the right word – much closer than we had expected. As Verdre and I had insisted, it was now dusk: My Mistress will need to witness these proceedings, and under the moon Verdre and I are more effective hunters. Rey and Treig also thought this was a good idea since among us only Egan cannot see in the dark, and My Mistress’s Twilight should be enough for the boy.</p><p></p><p>Tenser’s map roughly outlined four quadrants surrounding the wall and Spire within: a section filled with trolls; one with yuan-ti; another with swamp; and the fourth fairly bare. This last is where we appear under Her <em>t’quean</em>, or half-lidded eye. The treeline is gratifyingly heavy. I had already braced myself for heat and humidity again, so I was prepared for this as well.</p><p></p><p>Rey, Verdre and I scout the area and satisfy ourselves that we have not been seen nor are there eyes about attached to whispering mouths. We examine the mighty wall which seems to pulse, though I cannot decide whether this is a visual or aural effect.</p><p></p><p>There are symbols carved into it repeating all around its circumference.</p><p></p><p>“They say, <em>Kyuss entombed forever</em>,” translates Rey. “And the way it’s written,” she begins again to my slight beckoning, “makes me think it’s a chant spoken by several people, each one starting a couple words and then the next person starting before the first one’s ended. It’s these these markings here, they point to this kind of … what?”</p><p></p><p>It is a lot of words from my Rey, and I am smiling at her with happiness as she relates the details until she stops, looking a little embarrassed. But she is also smiling back, just a little.</p><p></p><p>Verdre, bless her, sees what is happening and helps. “So you are telling us,” she asks Rey, “that these scratches here are directions for how to speak these words? To say them in this manner you understand?”</p><p></p><p>Rey nods and we continue on, but for me I’ve just witnessed two bears emerging from their hibernation to a gentle sunny day, or a fresh moonlit evening. For one, the inclination to help someone not a member of the clan; for the other, pushing back against her reticence to speak. It is marvelous to watch. There is hope for them yet.</p><p></p><p>While we were about that, Treig climbed the wall and threw down a couple ropes. Presently, everyone is on top of the wall.</p><p></p><p>No protection up here, and Her Bright Profile makes fine silhouettes of us. Everyone must stay low.</p><p></p><p>A moment later there is a lurch and reality shimmers in front of us: we watch as through a lens hundreds or a thousand years ago come to life in a vision. A jade throne on a dais perches atop one of the ziggurat’s two grand staircases. Behind it are all the trappings of royalty: banners, a decorated facade, bonfires.</p><p></p><p>On that throne, his silver and black armor bearing skull and scythe imagery, is a man from the Flaan. With a plan. He serves Neral, god of death, and it shows. Around this temple a thriving city reaches far into a cleared jungle beyond the wall. It is disorienting. Thousands are knelt down facing the center, facing their evil king-priest. They are crying out in unison: “Kyuss!”</p><p></p><p>The image fades.</p><p></p><p>Alerting the others through Mirror cant, we three soft-paws scout carefully all the way around the wall, scoping both the courtyard and the jungle beyond. The wilderness is quiet, but there are two giant beetles in the interior, patrolling fairly close to the base of the Spire.</p><p></p><p>We come back to the group with a report. They are, according to Rey who had also been watching them and listening very carefully, insane or possibly under control. They are called <em>eviscerator</em> beetles, and they are wriggling with green worms.</p><p></p><p>Verdre and I depart again so we can see the interior from different angles, Rey staying back with Robi. Our hope is to time the beetles’ movements such that all of us could, using the ruins between the temple and the wall, scurry into the pyramid without attracting their notice.</p><p></p><p>“I should like to slay those creatures,” Verdre says a little more loudly than she meant to, for the beetles turn and immediately come our way to investigate. Verdre always does what she likes and so this was maybe more calculation than accident, but these monsters she’s now summoned to us are more terrible than we realize. As they approach, they bring a strange and ghastly sound. It makes me nauseous, drops Rey, who has run over, to both knees and sent Verdre to hissing. The creatures turn tail and return to the temple in what Rey tells us is sounding the alarm.</p><p></p><p>They bring back some kind of armored, wormy death knight who emerged from the base of the building. I doubt it is coming to parlay so I send the Silver to blow off his leg. It gets back up and hops onto the undead war-beetle, but they do not seem to be fully aware of where my attacks hale from.</p><p></p><p>That is, until Egan, for some reason, summons a <em>resh-ke</em> <strong>storm cloud</strong> alerting the entire jungle that we’re here! I shake my head, “Just like Melinde,” I whisper to Rey. “Are there any young humans who are quiet?”</p><p></p><p>The trio of monsters retreats behind a ruined building though one of the beetles is sticking out enough to continue filling it with Silvered moonlight.</p><p></p><p>Treig, Kaius, Rey, Jodan and Robi all descend to slowly approach the ruins. The ground, it turns out, is as full of worms slithering around through it as the creatures treading upon it. It is then that Jodan uses his new ring summoning up his ancestors to protect all of them. They manifest as a radiant whirlwind that burns the worms.</p><p></p><p>To provide me with cover, Verdre coaxes a fog bank out of the air positioning it between us and the yuan-ti somewhere out in the jungle beyond.</p><p></p><p>Eventually, Angivre’s bolts and Jodan’s deceased relatives put these creatures down. We may now pass into the Spire.</p><p></p><p>But first, another vision: a red dragon – <strong>Dragotha</strong>, probably – wings its way to the north with an obelisk from the top of the spire. Something strange and terrible writhes inside it. It is very likely Kyuss. He is gone, left to visit his sickness on the two worlds of the Fade and Bright, and he leaves behind a very literal death trap. There little point our continuing: our quarry has bolted.</p><p></p><p>The wind is picking up, and there is a heavy scent of moisture in the air.</p><p></p><p>“Rain in an arc, perhaps a bit sooner,” Verdre confirms.</p><p></p><p>We regroup courtesy of Jodan’s ancestors purifying the ground with their fury.</p><p></p><p>“We should investigate the interior,” says Treig.</p><p></p><p>“Definitely,” agrees Verdre.</p><p></p><p>“Why?” I say at the same time. “What is to be gained opening this box of ancient corruption?”</p><p></p><p>“I am here to slay undead, cousin,” says Verdre to me in Elven. She only calls me 'cousin' when she has made up her mind and it isn’t in my favor. “This is why I am along.”</p><p></p><p>“I thought it was to protect me.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, but since you have returned to me, my Etona, I have watched you. You do not need to be under my wing. You have the <em>fierc’e</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“I still think this is a foolish venture into pain. We do not disturb a bee hive: this is a hornet’s nest, and there will be no honey for us inside.”</p><p></p><p>No one will listen to me, not even Rey – though she is sympathetic – so we go inside through the west doors.</p><p></p><p>A mural of a handsome but cruel man, armored, adorns the antechamber. He leads a swelled army forth to battle somewhere. Humans: they do seem to love death in all its myriad forms, ever seeking fresh ones out. Beyond, stone doors would normally seal the inner temple from us but these are open. And why not? Who in their right mind would venture here?</p><p></p><p>They lead to a huge chamber the width of the main bulk of the pyramid. Pillars everywhere. There are similar stone doors in each of the cardinal compass directions.</p><p></p><p>In the center….</p><p></p><p>Oh, the center!</p><p></p><p>To the eyes, a wide, black-ringed hole. To the nose: the source of the pestilent stench blasting us since we arrived, perhaps every foul odor throughout my entire life. Truly horrible. And something broke through from that realm. It’s probably around here somewhere.</p><p></p><p>Verdre <em>mhaek’roor</em>, skin-walks, some call it shape-shifts, though neither is quite right. It is a Druid word, not Elven, and it means she has just asked for, gave thanks to, and borrowed snake’s form to scout the room.</p><p></p><p>There are two sets of stairs. The southern ones lead down where the foul odor emanates. Northern stairs lead up to roof.</p><p></p><p>On the other side of the northern doorway, she will tell us she faintly hears some sort of chanting but she cannot make out the words.</p><p></p><p>Verdre straightens suddenly like a hare hearing the snuffle of a wolf. She returns snake’s form in favor of her own and strides to us. Where the rest of us see alarm, I see anger. She is standing inches from Egan now, hand clutching her scimitar in its back sheathe, her yellow slitted eyes staring into his. She has not quite returned all of snake.</p><p></p><p>“Do not … do that … again.”</p><p></p><p><em>Oooh, I forgot to tell him</em>, I think when I realize what he did – the voice in the head. <em>That was a mistake</em>.</p><p></p><p>Egan’s fractional, speechless nod makes it so. I thank the Goddess this was not Skaen or Zrien or Tesseeki or, well, probably two thirds of my tribe. Verdre is one of the restrained ones. It is why she, too, is one our ambassadors to the other races.</p><p></p><p>That settled, for all time, Treig, Rey and Verdre return to the north door and listen. Verdre would tell me later that the words were a repeating chant, a plea to some sort of evil god. Treig cracked the door open carefully. He would report back that each of the four walls inside seemed to be glass. Worms writhe behind each one. Old, broken torture equipment is scattered about, room smells like old blood and rust. The being there has pale green skin and armor. They do not disturb him, but Treig left some of the radiant potions (the <em>grenaedez</em> I think; sounds Dwarven) on our side of the door for the being to trip over and break.</p><p></p><p>He briefly investigates the stairs going down but the entire level below is a sea of writhing worms, a pit of corruption so vast as to have tides. This sounds to me like the work of a god. What will it take to purify it?</p><p></p><p>The southern door is trapped with a kind of sleep chemical. We pass by this. Finally, the eastern door is the other way into the temple.</p><p></p><p>“Can we leave now?” I ask.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” says Rey, and the others generally agree. We have seen enough.</p><p></p><p>We all go to the roof, and Rey and I continue climbing until we are atop the Spire. There we are granted another vision: Culuth Mar, this city, at its height. Thousands of citizens gather. They look triumphant. That is, until a ashen wave like the stroke of a scythe sweeps from the arms of the Spire. It flows through them and rips their souls out. I can see it happen: a faint impression of each shrieking and distorted trying to hold on to the body. The very air is a boiling soup, green bubbles forming and bursting slowly, heavily, sickeningly. A single man watches, pleased, but this turns to surprise and then dismay as an obelisk at the top of the Spire – spinning the entire time – floats down to him and swallows him. His stupid expression says it all: in a burst of selfishness he has slain his own people – unforgivable enough – but worse, betrayed them all for a mere lie.</p><p></p><p>A rumbling in the ground from the west part of the courtyard seemingly banishes the vision. And what we were waiting for comes, the worm of worms, a monster like none we have seen so far. It explodes out of the ground.</p><p></p><p>“Egan,” Treig orders, “You and Kaius and Robi fly to safety over that wall there, back to where we landed. The rest of you, Ethereal potions. Meet at where we started, where they are flying to.”</p><p></p><p>He did not need to tell us twice: all of us, even Verdre who was dubious about the liquid, drink it down. Jodan tarries a little: he had a thoughtful look on his face when we faded.</p><p></p><p>The world is colorless now, or the colors are like gray but so much more if I concentrate. It is fascinating. We speak to other merely by thinking, but it is not intrusive like Egan’s mind-whisper. The world we left is still all around us but as a sketch from one of Verdre’s paper books. I can see all of us clearly enough though Egan and the two constructs are like drawings. And Jordan, still Jordan is there. He has stayed behind. I peer at his outline.</p><p></p><p>Oh, Goddess! He is staying to fight!</p><p></p><p>“We should not leave him,” says Verdre. But she transparently wants to fight – already fingering Glitter – and obviously dislikes being in this plane. She is using words calculated to affect me.</p><p></p><p>“Verdre, he is making his own choice,” I reply. Something does occur to me, though. “Treig, he definitely has an Ethereal potion with him, right? And he knows this?”</p><p></p><p>He nods to both.</p><p></p><p>It is a count of at least ten now and Jodan is still alive somehow. His armor seems impervious to the blows and teeth of the worm-of-worms. He is fighting this evil thing alone while I flee. Is this truly his choice? Or is Hell compelling him? I do not like mysteries of this sort. If it is Hell calling, then I must give him a chance to refuse, if it is within my power, and that will not be possible if he is in that thing’s belly.</p><p></p><p>I move back to the base of the cactus sculpture. Verdre’s eyes are on me. She smiles: alone among the others she sees what I am going to do and begins positioning herself to drop onto the horror’s back.</p><p></p><p>Jodan is using those Infernal chains to swing around the worm. He is surprisingly agile in all that armor.</p><p></p><p>Mistress! He has mistimed! In one gulp, the worm has swallowed him whole!</p><p></p><p>I see him in the thing’s throat. I can…yes, I can. I know what to do.</p><p></p><p>I drop back to our Material plane and call Her Rays of the Moon, focusing, focusing, into a tight beam, and I slice open a long, narrow tear. Jodan spills out, a drenched mess, slime hissing on his burning armor. Verdre drops to us then and lands on top of the worm, quickly calling her Spider Climb, Glitter in her hands.</p><p></p><p>She and I and Jodan finish killing it, the Hell-knight and his dead relatives having already done tremendous damage while I was dithering. In truth, it was Jodan and his very extended family who dispatched it.</p><p></p><p>There is no time to consider the consequences of our actions: a pair of worm-infested snake-beings – I would be told later they are called <em>naaga</em> – slither out of the hole in the courtyard the worm erupted from and begin ascending the pyramid. They are hate-filled, fanged, humanoid heads on serpent bodies, simply appalling. At the same time, a six-armed thing appears at the top of the cactus, hissing. This pestilent place is sending its entire hideous cast onto stage.</p><p></p><p>A voice, all sharp angles and hate, is in my head. It is the six-armed thing. I swivel and draw back the Silver, trying to get a bead on it from my position. It unleashes a swarm of spells from all those arms, and I feel my mace grow heavy and armor visibly lose its shine, though <em>Angivre</em> is unaffected, of course: she was not made by mortal hand. Jodan seems to be similarly fumbling with his gear as well, and Verdre sidesteps a black bolt aimed at her head.</p><p></p><p>Three spells at once, and it is summoning more! We must down this thing immediately.</p><p></p><p>And we do.</p><p></p><p>Well, no we don't. Rey pops out of Ethereal to plunge her spear through the thing’s throat, killing it instantly. The <em>naaga</em> stop and stand immobile: their will must have been bound to the six-armed figure, now a gurgling casualty of Rey’s perfect strike.</p><p></p><p>Verdre takes the opportunity to set her Moonbeam on the <em>naaga</em>, lighting them up for Egan who has been silently flying back over to us. The snake-things each get off a single lightning bolt but aim them, alas for their aspirations of being worthwhile to their side, at Jodan’s shield and Rey, two targets immune to it. With Her purifying light beating them down, Angivre’s Silver kills one and Egan’s bolts finish the other.</p><p></p><p>There is yet another foe on the field, however: Rey and Jodan find themselves in the midst of a fireball blossoming from nowhere. It only singes them: Jodan probably cannot be killed by flame and Rey managed to roll out of the blast. And now, finally, Treig pops in from Ethereal and flicks a cigar at a slight imperfection in the air. It is another undead wizard.</p><p></p><p>Since she appeared back in our Material plane, Rey has been verbally harrying Jodan with a torrent of angry words about not following plans and endangering everyone and what was he going to do after the worm was dead and what was he thinking putting Etona in such peril and so forth – nothing we aren’t all thinking, though I smile at her specifically calling out my name – when she strides to the new interloper, drives her spear through its throat, too, felling it again in a single blow, and marches back to Jodan, all without interrupting her tirade.</p><p></p><p>He looks at me, a bit wide-eyed.</p><p></p><p>“Hell hath no fury,” I say.</p><p></p><p>“You didn’t need to come back,” he replies.</p><p></p><p>“You have spent too much time among devils, Jodan. You have forgotten loyalty,” I snap back, “We are all bound together now. You are one of us. Remember this the next time you decide to throw your life away.”</p><p></p><p>Our conversation has given two more heavily-armored worm knights time to slowly approach the stairs. One of them calls forth a purplish black necrotic ball that envelopes Ray and Treig.</p><p></p><p>“Rey!” I call out but she waves me away. She may well be unstoppable now that she has been revealed to be Dragon Child. I hope I never anger her again.</p><p></p><p>I will admit that Jodan is unpredictable: he now steps forth and commands one of them to attack the other. I feel my mouth fall open, because that is exactly what it does. We join it in killing its opponent. Now we have use of a worm knight, apparently for the entire day.</p><p></p><p>With no way to return to the Ethereal plane, we will have to simply walk back to our starting position. I assume we will leave – shall we call it ‘Winston’? – behind to molder at its temple, unless we can talk to it?</p><p></p><p>That might be interesting.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Alexander Bryant1, post: 7568063, member: 6916184"] [b]Journal of Etona 24[/b] Our full party departing for points unknown consists of: Verdre and myself Rey Dragon-Child, with “Robi”, her new Obi-in-war machine Jodan, Burning King of the Past Treig, our scowling schemer Young Egan doing the bidding of his latest masters And finally, Kaio the Monotone. I had hoped to have interesting conversations with him, but he is more golem than man, nothing like Loring at all. We teleport to the Spire of Long Shadows landing – if that is the right word – much closer than we had expected. As Verdre and I had insisted, it was now dusk: My Mistress will need to witness these proceedings, and under the moon Verdre and I are more effective hunters. Rey and Treig also thought this was a good idea since among us only Egan cannot see in the dark, and My Mistress’s Twilight should be enough for the boy. Tenser’s map roughly outlined four quadrants surrounding the wall and Spire within: a section filled with trolls; one with yuan-ti; another with swamp; and the fourth fairly bare. This last is where we appear under Her [I]t’quean[/I], or half-lidded eye. The treeline is gratifyingly heavy. I had already braced myself for heat and humidity again, so I was prepared for this as well. Rey, Verdre and I scout the area and satisfy ourselves that we have not been seen nor are there eyes about attached to whispering mouths. We examine the mighty wall which seems to pulse, though I cannot decide whether this is a visual or aural effect. There are symbols carved into it repeating all around its circumference. “They say, [I]Kyuss entombed forever[/I],” translates Rey. “And the way it’s written,” she begins again to my slight beckoning, “makes me think it’s a chant spoken by several people, each one starting a couple words and then the next person starting before the first one’s ended. It’s these these markings here, they point to this kind of … what?” It is a lot of words from my Rey, and I am smiling at her with happiness as she relates the details until she stops, looking a little embarrassed. But she is also smiling back, just a little. Verdre, bless her, sees what is happening and helps. “So you are telling us,” she asks Rey, “that these scratches here are directions for how to speak these words? To say them in this manner you understand?” Rey nods and we continue on, but for me I’ve just witnessed two bears emerging from their hibernation to a gentle sunny day, or a fresh moonlit evening. For one, the inclination to help someone not a member of the clan; for the other, pushing back against her reticence to speak. It is marvelous to watch. There is hope for them yet. While we were about that, Treig climbed the wall and threw down a couple ropes. Presently, everyone is on top of the wall. No protection up here, and Her Bright Profile makes fine silhouettes of us. Everyone must stay low. A moment later there is a lurch and reality shimmers in front of us: we watch as through a lens hundreds or a thousand years ago come to life in a vision. A jade throne on a dais perches atop one of the ziggurat’s two grand staircases. Behind it are all the trappings of royalty: banners, a decorated facade, bonfires. On that throne, his silver and black armor bearing skull and scythe imagery, is a man from the Flaan. With a plan. He serves Neral, god of death, and it shows. Around this temple a thriving city reaches far into a cleared jungle beyond the wall. It is disorienting. Thousands are knelt down facing the center, facing their evil king-priest. They are crying out in unison: “Kyuss!” The image fades. Alerting the others through Mirror cant, we three soft-paws scout carefully all the way around the wall, scoping both the courtyard and the jungle beyond. The wilderness is quiet, but there are two giant beetles in the interior, patrolling fairly close to the base of the Spire. We come back to the group with a report. They are, according to Rey who had also been watching them and listening very carefully, insane or possibly under control. They are called [I]eviscerator[/I] beetles, and they are wriggling with green worms. Verdre and I depart again so we can see the interior from different angles, Rey staying back with Robi. Our hope is to time the beetles’ movements such that all of us could, using the ruins between the temple and the wall, scurry into the pyramid without attracting their notice. “I should like to slay those creatures,” Verdre says a little more loudly than she meant to, for the beetles turn and immediately come our way to investigate. Verdre always does what she likes and so this was maybe more calculation than accident, but these monsters she’s now summoned to us are more terrible than we realize. As they approach, they bring a strange and ghastly sound. It makes me nauseous, drops Rey, who has run over, to both knees and sent Verdre to hissing. The creatures turn tail and return to the temple in what Rey tells us is sounding the alarm. They bring back some kind of armored, wormy death knight who emerged from the base of the building. I doubt it is coming to parlay so I send the Silver to blow off his leg. It gets back up and hops onto the undead war-beetle, but they do not seem to be fully aware of where my attacks hale from. That is, until Egan, for some reason, summons a [I]resh-ke[/I] [B]storm cloud[/B] alerting the entire jungle that we’re here! I shake my head, “Just like Melinde,” I whisper to Rey. “Are there any young humans who are quiet?” The trio of monsters retreats behind a ruined building though one of the beetles is sticking out enough to continue filling it with Silvered moonlight. Treig, Kaius, Rey, Jodan and Robi all descend to slowly approach the ruins. The ground, it turns out, is as full of worms slithering around through it as the creatures treading upon it. It is then that Jodan uses his new ring summoning up his ancestors to protect all of them. They manifest as a radiant whirlwind that burns the worms. To provide me with cover, Verdre coaxes a fog bank out of the air positioning it between us and the yuan-ti somewhere out in the jungle beyond. Eventually, Angivre’s bolts and Jodan’s deceased relatives put these creatures down. We may now pass into the Spire. But first, another vision: a red dragon – [B]Dragotha[/B], probably – wings its way to the north with an obelisk from the top of the spire. Something strange and terrible writhes inside it. It is very likely Kyuss. He is gone, left to visit his sickness on the two worlds of the Fade and Bright, and he leaves behind a very literal death trap. There little point our continuing: our quarry has bolted. The wind is picking up, and there is a heavy scent of moisture in the air. “Rain in an arc, perhaps a bit sooner,” Verdre confirms. We regroup courtesy of Jodan’s ancestors purifying the ground with their fury. “We should investigate the interior,” says Treig. “Definitely,” agrees Verdre. “Why?” I say at the same time. “What is to be gained opening this box of ancient corruption?” “I am here to slay undead, cousin,” says Verdre to me in Elven. She only calls me 'cousin' when she has made up her mind and it isn’t in my favor. “This is why I am along.” “I thought it was to protect me.” “Yes, but since you have returned to me, my Etona, I have watched you. You do not need to be under my wing. You have the [I]fierc’e[/I].” “I still think this is a foolish venture into pain. We do not disturb a bee hive: this is a hornet’s nest, and there will be no honey for us inside.” No one will listen to me, not even Rey – though she is sympathetic – so we go inside through the west doors. A mural of a handsome but cruel man, armored, adorns the antechamber. He leads a swelled army forth to battle somewhere. Humans: they do seem to love death in all its myriad forms, ever seeking fresh ones out. Beyond, stone doors would normally seal the inner temple from us but these are open. And why not? Who in their right mind would venture here? They lead to a huge chamber the width of the main bulk of the pyramid. Pillars everywhere. There are similar stone doors in each of the cardinal compass directions. In the center…. Oh, the center! To the eyes, a wide, black-ringed hole. To the nose: the source of the pestilent stench blasting us since we arrived, perhaps every foul odor throughout my entire life. Truly horrible. And something broke through from that realm. It’s probably around here somewhere. Verdre [I]mhaek’roor[/I], skin-walks, some call it shape-shifts, though neither is quite right. It is a Druid word, not Elven, and it means she has just asked for, gave thanks to, and borrowed snake’s form to scout the room. There are two sets of stairs. The southern ones lead down where the foul odor emanates. Northern stairs lead up to roof. On the other side of the northern doorway, she will tell us she faintly hears some sort of chanting but she cannot make out the words. Verdre straightens suddenly like a hare hearing the snuffle of a wolf. She returns snake’s form in favor of her own and strides to us. Where the rest of us see alarm, I see anger. She is standing inches from Egan now, hand clutching her scimitar in its back sheathe, her yellow slitted eyes staring into his. She has not quite returned all of snake. “Do not … do that … again.” [I]Oooh, I forgot to tell him[/I], I think when I realize what he did – the voice in the head. [I]That was a mistake[/I]. Egan’s fractional, speechless nod makes it so. I thank the Goddess this was not Skaen or Zrien or Tesseeki or, well, probably two thirds of my tribe. Verdre is one of the restrained ones. It is why she, too, is one our ambassadors to the other races. That settled, for all time, Treig, Rey and Verdre return to the north door and listen. Verdre would tell me later that the words were a repeating chant, a plea to some sort of evil god. Treig cracked the door open carefully. He would report back that each of the four walls inside seemed to be glass. Worms writhe behind each one. Old, broken torture equipment is scattered about, room smells like old blood and rust. The being there has pale green skin and armor. They do not disturb him, but Treig left some of the radiant potions (the [I]grenaedez[/I] I think; sounds Dwarven) on our side of the door for the being to trip over and break. He briefly investigates the stairs going down but the entire level below is a sea of writhing worms, a pit of corruption so vast as to have tides. This sounds to me like the work of a god. What will it take to purify it? The southern door is trapped with a kind of sleep chemical. We pass by this. Finally, the eastern door is the other way into the temple. “Can we leave now?” I ask. “Yes,” says Rey, and the others generally agree. We have seen enough. We all go to the roof, and Rey and I continue climbing until we are atop the Spire. There we are granted another vision: Culuth Mar, this city, at its height. Thousands of citizens gather. They look triumphant. That is, until a ashen wave like the stroke of a scythe sweeps from the arms of the Spire. It flows through them and rips their souls out. I can see it happen: a faint impression of each shrieking and distorted trying to hold on to the body. The very air is a boiling soup, green bubbles forming and bursting slowly, heavily, sickeningly. A single man watches, pleased, but this turns to surprise and then dismay as an obelisk at the top of the Spire – spinning the entire time – floats down to him and swallows him. His stupid expression says it all: in a burst of selfishness he has slain his own people – unforgivable enough – but worse, betrayed them all for a mere lie. A rumbling in the ground from the west part of the courtyard seemingly banishes the vision. And what we were waiting for comes, the worm of worms, a monster like none we have seen so far. It explodes out of the ground. “Egan,” Treig orders, “You and Kaius and Robi fly to safety over that wall there, back to where we landed. The rest of you, Ethereal potions. Meet at where we started, where they are flying to.” He did not need to tell us twice: all of us, even Verdre who was dubious about the liquid, drink it down. Jodan tarries a little: he had a thoughtful look on his face when we faded. The world is colorless now, or the colors are like gray but so much more if I concentrate. It is fascinating. We speak to other merely by thinking, but it is not intrusive like Egan’s mind-whisper. The world we left is still all around us but as a sketch from one of Verdre’s paper books. I can see all of us clearly enough though Egan and the two constructs are like drawings. And Jordan, still Jordan is there. He has stayed behind. I peer at his outline. Oh, Goddess! He is staying to fight! “We should not leave him,” says Verdre. But she transparently wants to fight – already fingering Glitter – and obviously dislikes being in this plane. She is using words calculated to affect me. “Verdre, he is making his own choice,” I reply. Something does occur to me, though. “Treig, he definitely has an Ethereal potion with him, right? And he knows this?” He nods to both. It is a count of at least ten now and Jodan is still alive somehow. His armor seems impervious to the blows and teeth of the worm-of-worms. He is fighting this evil thing alone while I flee. Is this truly his choice? Or is Hell compelling him? I do not like mysteries of this sort. If it is Hell calling, then I must give him a chance to refuse, if it is within my power, and that will not be possible if he is in that thing’s belly. I move back to the base of the cactus sculpture. Verdre’s eyes are on me. She smiles: alone among the others she sees what I am going to do and begins positioning herself to drop onto the horror’s back. Jodan is using those Infernal chains to swing around the worm. He is surprisingly agile in all that armor. Mistress! He has mistimed! In one gulp, the worm has swallowed him whole! I see him in the thing’s throat. I can…yes, I can. I know what to do. I drop back to our Material plane and call Her Rays of the Moon, focusing, focusing, into a tight beam, and I slice open a long, narrow tear. Jodan spills out, a drenched mess, slime hissing on his burning armor. Verdre drops to us then and lands on top of the worm, quickly calling her Spider Climb, Glitter in her hands. She and I and Jodan finish killing it, the Hell-knight and his dead relatives having already done tremendous damage while I was dithering. In truth, it was Jodan and his very extended family who dispatched it. There is no time to consider the consequences of our actions: a pair of worm-infested snake-beings – I would be told later they are called [I]naaga[/I] – slither out of the hole in the courtyard the worm erupted from and begin ascending the pyramid. They are hate-filled, fanged, humanoid heads on serpent bodies, simply appalling. At the same time, a six-armed thing appears at the top of the cactus, hissing. This pestilent place is sending its entire hideous cast onto stage. A voice, all sharp angles and hate, is in my head. It is the six-armed thing. I swivel and draw back the Silver, trying to get a bead on it from my position. It unleashes a swarm of spells from all those arms, and I feel my mace grow heavy and armor visibly lose its shine, though [I]Angivre[/I] is unaffected, of course: she was not made by mortal hand. Jodan seems to be similarly fumbling with his gear as well, and Verdre sidesteps a black bolt aimed at her head. Three spells at once, and it is summoning more! We must down this thing immediately. And we do. Well, no we don't. Rey pops out of Ethereal to plunge her spear through the thing’s throat, killing it instantly. The [I]naaga[/I] stop and stand immobile: their will must have been bound to the six-armed figure, now a gurgling casualty of Rey’s perfect strike. Verdre takes the opportunity to set her Moonbeam on the [I]naaga[/I], lighting them up for Egan who has been silently flying back over to us. The snake-things each get off a single lightning bolt but aim them, alas for their aspirations of being worthwhile to their side, at Jodan’s shield and Rey, two targets immune to it. With Her purifying light beating them down, Angivre’s Silver kills one and Egan’s bolts finish the other. There is yet another foe on the field, however: Rey and Jodan find themselves in the midst of a fireball blossoming from nowhere. It only singes them: Jodan probably cannot be killed by flame and Rey managed to roll out of the blast. And now, finally, Treig pops in from Ethereal and flicks a cigar at a slight imperfection in the air. It is another undead wizard. Since she appeared back in our Material plane, Rey has been verbally harrying Jodan with a torrent of angry words about not following plans and endangering everyone and what was he going to do after the worm was dead and what was he thinking putting Etona in such peril and so forth – nothing we aren’t all thinking, though I smile at her specifically calling out my name – when she strides to the new interloper, drives her spear through its throat, too, felling it again in a single blow, and marches back to Jodan, all without interrupting her tirade. He looks at me, a bit wide-eyed. “Hell hath no fury,” I say. “You didn’t need to come back,” he replies. “You have spent too much time among devils, Jodan. You have forgotten loyalty,” I snap back, “We are all bound together now. You are one of us. Remember this the next time you decide to throw your life away.” Our conversation has given two more heavily-armored worm knights time to slowly approach the stairs. One of them calls forth a purplish black necrotic ball that envelopes Ray and Treig. “Rey!” I call out but she waves me away. She may well be unstoppable now that she has been revealed to be Dragon Child. I hope I never anger her again. I will admit that Jodan is unpredictable: he now steps forth and commands one of them to attack the other. I feel my mouth fall open, because that is exactly what it does. We join it in killing its opponent. Now we have use of a worm knight, apparently for the entire day. With no way to return to the Ethereal plane, we will have to simply walk back to our starting position. I assume we will leave – shall we call it ‘Winston’? – behind to molder at its temple, unless we can talk to it? That might be interesting. [/QUOTE]
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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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