From the journal of Diva’un Mur'ss, last of House Zaughym, Bale of Nightfall, Drinker of the Blood of Erebus the Thrice Unforgiven, Bringer of Darkness / Zarantyr 26th, 999 YK
Transcribed into the Common tongue:
Much later than the events described below, most of the others rested while I quietly completed the ritual that would give my familiar his favorite form. Durag coalesced and was soon recognizable as a subterranean bat. It was with some regret that I summoned him. I knew a tantrum that was coming and my fiendish familiar didn’t disappoint.
This is no lightning rail! You promised I would see the rail! he cried through our telepathic link. Durag’s thoughts raged and wheeled simultaneously.
"Patience, brother. Would you have had our mission fail? There was no time to properly summon you. Would you have had me bring you back wingless and earless?" I attempted reasonably.
You promised. While I couldn’t read his expressions in his bat form, his thoughts had turned regretful. I am imagining the speed, the air. The currents of fear. Innocents trampling each other to escape. You blasting the Great Katashka’s acolytes through windows, their broken bodies bursting like ripe fruit with the terrible impact of the land. Durag ended excitedly.
"I don’t believe we were going fast enough for that," I replied.So you did throw them from the train! Durag asked.
"Would you have me tell my story?"
Yes, yes, yes. But who did you kill? he pressed.
"I will start from the beginning. You remember the mages?” I began. “While you were indisposed, they completed their portal and were convinced, with Cypher as their focus, that we could step through and would find ourselves on the lightning rail headed to Sharn. Every moment I delayed would bring the Mire closer to Sharn, so you see why I couldn’t bring you?”
No. Durag could be obstinate.
“Trust me. So with what little rest we had managed, we stepped through the portal.”
Onto the lightning rail? Durag quipped hopefully.
“My story,” I snapped. The mages claimed there would be a path to our destination. We stepped into the space between spaces. There was a path, true enough, but we were surrounded by grey nothing. I couldn’t tell if I was looking out at miles of grey or but a few feet. Once we had all adjusted to our surroundings the lot of us advanced. The path—stone I think—stretched ahead, and while it wended unobscured before us, I had no sense of distance or any end to it. After what could have been no more than moments but was perhaps much longer, Magnus exclaimed and pointed. The blasted rubble of some stone building littered the grey expanse. The blasted refuse floated what seemed a short distance away, until a small figure standing in half a shattered stone room belied it’s true distance. The small figure was a giant with a weapon taller than myself.”
Did you blast it from its perch? It would have fallen for eternity. Truly a missed opportunity if you did not. Durag’s thoughts leaked into my mind.
“You do not poke a sleeping giant.” I replied. “Especially one who was not sleeping. In any case we continued until we had travelled a distance that seemed both negligible and immeasurable for a time that was both brief and too long. Later I realized this had been the Astral Plane. The plane between planes, the nothingness between all things. Wynn was the the first to note another portal before us and after a moment spent deciding our roles we stepped through."
 |
| In arcane circles, many strange and esoteric tales are told of the Astral Plane. |
The lightning rail? Did you get to the lightning rail? Durag couldn’t help himself.
“Yes, it was finally the rail. My first feeling was discomfort. There was constant movement, almost as pronounced as the movement on a ship.”
Like when you killed the captain and blasted his lifeless body from his own ship? Durag’s thought was somehow higher pitched as I got to the good part.
“Yes,” I said, “Much like when I killed the captain, and honestly I planned to mete out similar ends to Katashka’s followers. Most of them, of course; not you. But you know, no plan survives contact with raksashas and their servants.”
“We had hoped for an inconspicuous entrance. It was not to be. The portal we stepped out of was both a strange sight and not silent. A rending sound made by the air itself could be heard even above the hum of the lightning rail. This was followed by a loud pop as my final companion, the eladrin Alea, stepped through the portal and it puckered closed. It left no sign that it had ever been, but we were immediately noticed by an assortment of steerage passengers. Truly, there appeared to be two of each race and nation represented in the enormous rail car in which we stood. Despite the disorienting facts that flooded my eyes, it was the smells that I remember most. Behind us were two heavily used privies and before us a wave of unwashed humans and humanoids, foods of a dozen nations, a hint of dwarf and a dash of something else.”
I stopped for a moment to drink, clearing my palate of the memory of the uncivilized odors. Durag seemed less inclined to interrupt now that my story had moved to the lightning rail.The House Orien lightning rail is an experience. It is swift, crowded, filled with light and sound, with windows open to the sky and the overland sun. It is perilous, a conveyance that would be unthinkable to the tribes of my people.
“There was no outcry at our appearance,” I continued, "But many of the passengers who sat in benches before us moved to give us a wide berth. Three guards, uniformed in the livery of House Deneith—the human house of Sentinel—immediately approached us from the other end of the car and Aleae advanced towards them confidently. I followed her, thinking to support whatever tale she would spin, but only too late realized we were the least well equipped to negotiate. Neither the eladrin nor myself had set foot on a lightning rail before and my familiarity with proper train-hopping etiquette was non-existent. Fortunately, Clarion's unfailingly polite manner kept the exchange from venturing too far south.
Even with Clarion's assistance, we were not able to satisfyingly explain our odd entrance and the necessity of stopping the train. The guards were finally convinced to relay a message to their commanders, but only if we laid down our arms.”
I had misjudged my audience. These details left Durag unsatisfied and he was obviously preparing to interrupt again. He was no longer raptly watching. He shifted his wings and his nostrils flared, but before I could hear his objection, I said “We fight soon, and I promise, someone is exiting the moving rail the hard way.”
Who was slain first? Durag's thought burst into my mind. Get to the good part.
“I cannot testify to his death, but one of the guards ended up being an rakshasa—a member of the lower, warrior caste, I suspect.” Now I had Durag’s attention. “I engaged him, but despite my best intentions to blast him from the train, it was Aleae who, with the telekinetic force of her magic, thrust him bodily through a window and dropped him out of sight into the Brelish countryside.”
“But this train had many cars and this was but the first. Magnus and I climbed to the roof of the next car and advanced this way. I focused my power on speeding my progress and Magnus relied on sheer strength to advance quickly. The roof provided respite from the olfactory assault that was a crowded steerage car and gave us a view of various flying figures approaching and keeping pace with the rail. Ahead, a disturbingly large winged creature kept pace most easily. Then a burst of flames appeared overhead many cars ahead of us and, as if it were a signal, and the flying figures began to converged on the rail.”
Was the large one a dragon? More than carnage, Durag was fascinated by dragons. Hated them and loved them all at once for their power and for the enmity that dragons and fiends have shared since the Age of Demons.
“Patience, Durag, the dragon comes later,” I continued. “Magnus and I reached the front of the car as two harpies alighted on the roof behind us. Before dropping to the walkway between cars we harassed them with arrows and eldritch blasts but managed little more than to disturb their feathers. We stormed into the next car but found a crush of passengers trying to flee the way we had come. Our companions joined us and each of us was forced to push, bully, and threaten our way through the crowd.”
Durag had to ask. Did you kill any of the cattle?
I didn’t glance at him as I said, “They are not cattle. I have told you before I would not weigh myself down further with more innocent blood.”
Then how did you get past them? It is easier to walk or fly above the dead.
“I attempted to be reasonable. When that didn’t work, I dropped my illusory disguise and showed them my true face.
"I also threatened to eat them.” I admitted.
“It was then that I saw what had frightened the cattle—I mean, the passengers. A troll was raging at the other end of the car, though how anyone would abide such a passenger before now is beyond me. Perhaps it was summoned with a spell. Benches had been tossed about like sticks and guards lay dead. The harpies took that moment to perch at the windows of the rail and use their vile songs to charm those within. It was largely ineffectual against us, but many of the passengers became enthralled. Aleae continued to use her Telekinesis to great effect. She grasped one of the sirens with a hand of force and dragged it from view. Scorched feathers rose where the harpy had been moments before.
With a few words between my companions, we took to our roles. Magnus engaged the troll and he and Clarion bulled their way past. I shifted my focus from enhancing my speed and cloaked myself in darkness. A guard advanced toward me and despite the inky blackness of my spell, stared directly at me as he attacked without hindrance. The guard was not as he appeared. A feline visage seemed to momentarily be visible where his human face had been and his hands turned to claws—another rakshasa-kin. The second harpy entered the car and continued its song.
I cleared my throat. “To put it briefly, I prevailed and all of them fell. Then I...”
Details! The word exploded from Durag’s mind. Speak of spilled blood and shattered bones.
I continued, “Yes, details, details. Well I managed to occupy the troll a bit longer, primarily by 'letting' it rend and bite me. It seemed the guard was immune to my magics—further confirmation that this was a fiend—although I was able to scratch him with my rapier.
Finally Aleae dispatched the harpy who had made her way into the car and Wynn savagely beat the troll and the fiendish "human" guard. I finally managed to separate from the troll before it took another bite out of me and attempted to make a meal of me. I blasted its head clean off and knocked its body twenty feet from where it had been.
Behind me my companions had opened the locked door to the next car and as I turned from the troll’s corpse and headed toward them, I saw Cypher.
I do not know what he had discovered on his scouting mission, but he now sported a green hat and was occupied at the mechanism that connected the two cars together. I did not see my other companions who had gone ahead, but soon I saw evidence of another fight on the roof. I could hear a strange song on the air—like a harpy's luring song but somehow sharper. I also heard Clarion and saw a glimpse of Magnus on the edge of the roof as he was buffeted and cut by something unseen.
Izzeth passed me to join in the combat. I am almost positive that he saw my injuries as he went and felt no urge to heal me. I do believe that half-drow has a full-drow grudge against me.”It was at that moment I noticed Durag was not the only one listening to me. Izzeth was paying attention to my one-sided story and he didn’t look approving.
I didn’t pause from the telling. “Once I had assisted Cypher with the connecting mechanism, it was ready to release the cars behind us, but our companions were now on the roof of that car. Cypher and I left the connection and scrambled to the roof to join the combat.
A harpy was grappling with Magnus while Izzeth and Clarion had engaged a substantially larger and I daresay more colorful harpy who could only have been their leader. Not some minor boss but the chieftainess of her tribe. I knew this was Callain of the Bloody Word, leader of the Wind Howlers flight. My former allies had mentioned her though I had only glimpsed her from afar in Glyphstone.
It was she who had brought her tribe of harpies from out of Droaam in alliance with Trazzen. Our efforts at Glyphstone had whittled down that tribe, and now I believe this is all that remained of her army of monstrous women. Yet she seemed cooler of mind than her minions, angry but collected. She would not be half as easy to kill than they.
Worse, Callain's song didn’t charm but instead blasted and flayed the unwary. When she sang, the air itself cut like razor blades. I returned the favor and knocked her back with repeated eldritch spells, which eventually blasted the song from her lips altogether. Magnus managed to move clear of her deadly song and using the powers of his ice-bone mace—which I still cannot quantify—he summoned, right there on that very rooftop, a mighty winter wolf. I had never seen its like: like a great worg, but snow-white in hue and glowing blue eyes.
An instant after the wolf appeared, it lunged at Callain and struck her in the back. Her deadly song was halted!
But the fight wasn't won yet. In that moment I looked back toward Magnus. The lesser harpy he'd been grappling with, and was largely ignoring in favor of more dangerous foes, swooped upon him again! Though his body mass was considerably greater than hers, the savagery and tenacity of harpies is legendary. She pounced upon him in just the right moment, when his balance was compromised. With a grunt and a snap of her wings, she dragged him from the roof of the rail, and both of them dropped out of sight!
The winged harpy reappeared in my sight further out, riding the air currents. Magnus, however, had vanished.
Durag was overjoyed, Magnus fell from the train! Did his neck snap upon impact? Did his body break upon a rock? Did more harpies descend and tear him apart in a grisly feast?! What happened?
He was hooked. The little fiend needed to hear the rest of the story and it was my moment to take advantage of that. “Enough for tonight. If you would hear the rest of the story, promise to behave and I will continue tomorrow.”Durag was taken aback. We had gotten to the best part. Is there going to be a dragon?
Now, to press home my advantage. “If you would hear the rest, swear to behave for a day. Don’t foul my companions' drinking water while they sleep. Don’t lick their rations. Say it or there will be no story tomorrow.”
Durag settled. You have my pledge, until tomorrow.
I smiled. “Agreed.” I looked over to see Izzeth’s horrified expression, who promptly checked his rations.
Here follows an excerpt from the memoirs of Varston of Karrnath / Zarantyr 26th, 999 YK
Kel and I had shared in an uneventful journey for most of our time aboard the lightning rail. The landscapes of enemy nations—no, former enemies, I must remind myself daily—flew past as like bleeding paintings. They were not real to me, not physical. Just images through a glass pane. At every check point and border since we left home, our papers were checked, our arms scrutinized. The Aundairians were haughty, the Brelanders were condescending, but we managed it without starting any fights.
Sharn had job opportunities for us, and a Karrnathi embassy so we'd find food that actually tasted good to eat when we got there. Just had to get there.
But in that last fateful hour, our lightning rail journey was not so uneventful. Evidently arcane terrorists had compromised the security of our rail—even the Deneith guards had been infiltrated. We might not have known about it but for the arrival of a parade of...I suppose they were civilians who, given their appearance, were either conscripted Brelish mercenaries or else carnival freaks. It was difficult to say which.
First, they were leaderless—a serious error on their part—and accordingly, each member of their party strove in a different direction. None were subordinate, none were senior. No chain of command united them. But for all that they were individually courageous and accomplished warriors. They fought unearthly foes with the conviction of a Karrn. What in Khyber motivated them?
The most notable surely was a Karrn. She did not wear the silver and black of the Conqueror's army, but she fought like a tempered general and outclassed the fiendish creature that masqueraded as human. She would have slain it then and there, but a white-gowned elf witch flung the demon out a window with invisible hand, after roughing up one of those damnable harpies with. The elf waif was pretty in a sneeze-too-hard-and-she'll-fall-down sort of way, but she was obviously an accomplished mage. Why she was dressed for a gala, I do not understand. Perhaps she was a noblewoman and these were her retainers? She lingered at the back of the fray, so this seemed likely.
There was also some sort of tribal warrior among them. The big man wore his scars and burns as if they were armor, and little else, as he ran about with a great bone maul. The troll didn't even seem to concern him; he had other enemies in mind, I guessed. The brute must been one of those savage hunters from the Shadow Marches, the sort you have to throw meat at to keep from attacking his allies. There was also a bizarre warforged with pipes protruding from its armor like quills, but it carried a shield and a metal-shod staff. Every now now and then, flashes of white light would appear around it. I daresay I think it was some sort of priest-construct. There was another elf-blood among them, hooded and garbed like a forest scout, but he mostly ran past and, I think, climbed to the roof after the others.
Somehow in the chaos, a Host-be-damned troll had appeared, and the one who paused to engage it was this party's strangest member: a bloody dark elf. A necromancer, if ever I saw one. I would not have guessed him to be an ally at all if he didn't fight the same enemies. Then I lost sight of him altogether when a great orb of darkness appeared, swallowing half the steerage cart and all of our enemies. Dark energies blasted within and without that sphere, though I only saw it from a distance—it was difficult to push through the crowd of terrified civilians. When at last Kel and I moved up close enough to engage, the troll came flying out of that arcane darkness in two pieces. The head had been decapitated by the dark elf's magic in mid-air. A gout of black-green ichor stained my own clothes; maybe that would be helpful to show my prospective employers in Sharn.
When the troll's body and head hit the ground, we wasted no time and set upon it before it could grow together again. I've carried a tinderbox on me ever since the summer of 979 when those Cyran bastards lured my unit too close that Khyber-shitting troll den. I'd rather be a weak-armed Aundairian than let a troll get the better of me again.
Kel asked the white-clad elf what was going on while I ran to speak with the Karrn. She, not the waif, would have the better sense to know where we were needed. Whatever was happening on this rail, we would engage it.
Death holds no terror.
No comments:
Post a Comment