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"Get ready," snapped Gorfang, "we're going now!" The last thing he wanted was for Straff to have time to reconsider, or to work his way into a useless funk. "How are we going to do this?"
As he explained the facts, Straff began to calm down. The Gates of Life was created by the stress placed on reality by the proximity of this artificially created place to the edge of the Positive Energy Plane - the wellspring of life energy, and from this fissure were ejected the incredibly dense packages of coherent positive energy referred to as Seeds of Life. These orbited the vast nebular cloud of the Gates for a while before falling back into them to be reabsorbed into the Positive.
The inhabitants of the City Forever ventured into the region around the Gates aboard great sky-ships called flickerwings, driven by the solar winds, and harvested the Seeds, which were then collected in the Fortress of the Beating Heart in the centre of the city and despatched from there to the patron deities of their collectors.
Straff, apparently, was third mate on a flickerwing called the Painstaking Reattunement, and was fairly sure he could smuggle them aboard disguised as petitioner dockworkers - "if you have a little magic to alter your look," he added. Petitioners tended to wear hooded robes, which was always a gods-send to those trying to sneak into places. "So you can take control of the ship?" asked Gorfang, sinkingly sure of the answer. "The crew, yes," said Straff cautiously, "The captain and the other two mates may be a problem." Eloy rubbed his chin. "Can they be turned?" he asked, "what are their weaknesses?" Straff glanced at the corner where whatever he'd been huddled over when they arrived was hidden. "The same as any of us," he said regretfully. "Can they be killed?" asked Gorfang. Straff flinched. "Anyone killed here, is dead forever," he said with quiet horror. "Welcome to our world," said Gorfang drily. "Yes," said Straff, glancing at Gorfang's weapons, "they can be killed."
"Take us to your vessel," said Gorfang.
An hour's walk took them from Straff's hovel to the foot of the great soaring bridge that crossed the City Forever's central chasm. Gorfang and Eloy walked meekly behind the celestial, magically disguised, hooded and carrying crates of 'supplies'. The base of the bridge was guarded by two columns, fifty feet high, of white marble inlaid with cunning arabesques of gold. Bereloth reported strong magic from them and the group halted.
"What do those do?" asked Gorfang. "They sense the presence of agents of the Gods - particularly priests," replied Straff, who had already walked past them, "trying to sneak into the Fortress." Eloy swallowed. Here was the test of the theory; as a priest of a god outside the Dawn Concord, he should be safe here ... but he couldn't be sure. Striding forward, Gorfang stepped between the pillars. There was a very faint resistance, and he could feel a tiny resonance in that small part of him that was linked to Hektis, but it faded as he crossed over and was gone.
A step behind him, Eloy came level with the pillars - and the golden inlay lit up with crawling cyan sparks. Reacting instantly, Gorfang yelled, "Go Null!" and Eloy called on his god's gift.
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"Well, that was no problem," said Straff, turning from the dark, silent pillars and moving on. Gorfang glanced across the chasm, and saw a winged humanoid figure soar into the air, circle a couple of times as it regarded the bridge, then sink down out of sight again. He noticed that it was very careful not to stray over the chasm. He shook his head and frowned. There was something... a bubble of memory drifted up, a memory of a sly grin and endless arguments... Ah. He glanced sideways at where, if he concentrated, he could see Eloy walking beside him. There were benefits to being among the Fateless.
The bridge rose from the city to join the bridge from the opposite side of the city. From that junction, a long causeway ran along the chasm towards the Fortress, where it met the castle gate. In the distance at that gate, Gorfang could see the twinkle and gleam of another pair of the pillars. "Let's get along," he said to Straff. Better get through those before Eloy resumed his place in reality!
The gates of the Fortress were no problem; evidently the pillars were regarded as defence enough. The interior was a surprise; far less neglected and decadent than the city. Whoever operated this place, they were either immune to the effects of the looming Plane or less damaged by them. Gleaming white marble walls rose around them, pierced by golden-framed windows and silver gates. An aspect of light and moral wholesomeness permated the air. Gorfang and Eloy felt uncomfortable and mildly ill, and hastened through, but Straff breathed deeply and seemed to straighten and brighten somewhat.
At the far side, the bridge split into smaller walkways, spreading out down to where the jetties stretched out into the nameless ether between the City and the Gates. Several dozen flickerwing ships could be seen, docked at the jetties, their incongruous masts and spars jutting up from their decks as they floated in nothingness. Straff led the way, and the three headed down one of the jetties towards one of the vessels, a hundred-foot three-master.
As planned, Straff ushered his "porters" down the companionway and into the ship's hold. Passing the rows and rows of transparent crystal jars firmly secured to racks ready for the captured seeds, they reached one of the ship's store-rooms and dumped the crates. Gorfang turned to Straff. "Right," he said, "Are the captain and mates aboard?" Straff concentrated for a moment, extending some sense possessed by his kind, then brightened. "Captain Radirath is in his cabin in the deckhouse, and Second Mate Raerava is in the fo'c'sle. The First Mate isn't aboard," he reported. "Deckhouse it is then," decided Gorfang. He and Eloy checked their weapons, Eloy adding some magic to enhance their chances. He noticed as he cast spells granted by Sabath that - though they did work - the normal sensation of divine potential for replacement was missing. What his God had provided before he came here was still his; but he could call on no more while he was here. Fair enough. Carefully he selected a weapon from his Bag of Holding; the scimitar Anaechin, once the property of the Fae Mhor Barkflay.
 DM Note: Remarkable upon remarkable; two sessions ago we had Gorfang using Diplomacy, and this week we have Gorfang sneaking. Never too old to learn new tricks! |
Making their way to the deckhouse, the three paused outside the door and very cautiously eased it open, slipping inside on silent feet. The absent Gods were smiling; the Captain was standing at his chart table with his back to them.
Making their way to the deckhouse, the three paused outside the door and very cautiously eased it open, slipping inside on silent feet. The absent Gods were smiling; the Captain was standing at his chart table with his back to them.
Captain Radirath was nine feet tall, with green skin and elegantly shaped limbs clad in white robes. Magnificent white-feathered wings were folded across his shoulders and a silver greatsword hung at his hip.
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Carefully, Gorfang slipped his arm into his shield-straps. He didn't often use one, but he thought he might just need it today. Next to him, Eloy - already drawn - uncoiled like a spring and hurled himself at the Captain's back.
The black curved blade of the unhallowed dark elvish weapon crackled with evil power as it ripped across the angel's back, dreadful wounds crisscrossing his torso as Eloy struck and struck again. Radirath arched his back and screamed, and the air was suddenly full of floating feathers - Eloy's attack had shredded the Captain's wings as well.
| DM Note: Double natural for Gorfang, an instant kill! |
Gorfang got his shield secured finally and put in a strike with his khopesh as the Captain regained his balance. Radirath spun with a cry of righteous rage, his weapon drawn in one smooth movement. Drawing back his arm, Gorfang struck savagely, driving the curved point directly into the angel's scintillating eye. With a crash, the Captain fell dead to the deck.
They stuffed the body out of sight, though there was nothing they could do about the silver blood spattered all over the floor. Eloy was intrigued; poison- and potion makers had written of angel blood as a powerful ingredient. He collected a bottle of the stuff and stashed it away.
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Straff was sent to lure the second mate up to the deckhouse, and Gorfang hid himself behind the door, but Eloy stood beyond the chart table, silver-mired blade brazenly displayed. A few minutes later, Straff returned, bringing a dog-headed hound archon, Raerava the second mate. Eloy took the initiative in his own inimitable fashion.
"I have been sent by your superiors with orders to sail immediately on a special mission." The archon blinked in disbelief at the wiry mortal. "They sent you?" he asked incredulously. Eloy drew himself up. "You wouldn't have the stomach for what needs to be done!" he barked. "He didn't," he added meaningfully, giving the black scimitar a slight shake. Raerava looked shaken, but his eyes narrowed. "Exactly whom did you say sent you?" he asked suspiciously. Eloy was uncomfortably aware he didn't know the answer to this question. "Your captain's superior," he repeated, "will you obey orders or will you die - yes or no?"
Raerava took a step forward. "Where are we going, anyway?" he demanded. They were his last words. A flash of grey steel crossed his neck as Gorfang attacked from behind, and his doglike head bounced across the deck as his body toppled.
Eloy looked up from the body and met Gorfang's eyes. The orc shrugged. "That wasn't yes", he pointed out, and Eloy grinned.
"First Mate Straff?" said Gorfang. "I am now captain of this ship; take us out." Straff's gaze brightened momentarily at the title, but then his gaze fell on the corpse and the blood and he shivered and left quickly.
A few minutes later, the deck stirred under their feet and he dock outside began to slide past the windows as the ship got under way.
Eloy began to explore the cabin. Angels do not need to eat, sleep, drink or breathe, so the personal effects of one were largely incomprehensible. Prominent in the room was a large 'globe' drinks cabinet. When opened, this flooded the room with light and turned out to contain several bottles of some fluid distilled from Seeds of Life, presumably from the City Forever's black market and probably a ticket to a one-way wingless flight to the Abyss for Radirath if he was caught with them.
Gorfang, meanwhile, was watching through the door as Straff commanded the ship. He could tell that the crew had little respect for Straff, and that while they were obeying him now in the course of the relatively normal, they would probably not if his authority was put to the test.
Eloy's assassin magic was brought into play here, and he cast a spell to change his appearance to that of the Captain, donning Lynien's old Wings of Flying - spells like this work better the less there is to change, and something with wings to something else with wings is easier than human to something with wings. Stepping out on the poop deck, he pantomimed giving orders to Straff, bolstering the impression that that worthy was backed by his approval, before returning to 'his' cabin.
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The trip to the Gates took nearly five hours, during which Gorfang and Eloy snatched some sleep and checked their equipment. Towards the end of the voyage, the ship had been increasingly buffeted by some sort of turbulence, until they were forced to sit in the fixed chairs or hold on to the walls. According to Straff, in this region, the ship had to balance the pull of the Gates of Life with the thrust of the solar sails or be dragged into the Gates and destroyed. Peering cautiously out through the door of the deckhouse, they saw that the incredible ball of the Gates of Life now filled half the sky, shot through with flame and lightning and surrounded by tiny orbiting points of light. Caught like a feather between the mighty forces of the Gates' gravity and the photon winds they generated, the ship bucked and strained as its' crew fought to keep it balanced and on course. Those who weren't occupied with this were already strapped into the heavy chairs that lined the gunwales, ready to harvest the Seeds. It occurred to Gorfang and Eloy that no-one was going to notice them on deck at the moment, so they slipped out and began to scan the skies for the seeds they were here to collect.
Now that the moment was here, each felt deeply in tune with the part within himself that was linked to his God. That knot of perception was thrumming in time to the pulsing of the Gates, tense and expectant. Suddenly their awareness gave a great leap, and almost without needing to look, they knew that four points of light, brighter than the others, had been ejected from the cloud and were swirling around it. To each of them one called out across the emptiness.
The seated crewmembers of the Pain were working now, each leaning forward and spearing a Seed with his telekinesis and drawing it back to the ship, then steering it in through the open hatch into the hold, where they were shoved into the jars and sealed securely.
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Gorfang dug in his Bag of Holding and drew out something he'd never thought to use - a Helm of Telepathy. Clapping it onto his head, he reached out with his mind to the tiny spot of light that was so deeply linked to Hektis and called. Its' flight altered, arcing towards the ship, and the orc reached out to catch it. Perhaps the small size of it deceived him into not bracing himself enough, but the impact of it hitting his outstretched hand was like a falling hill. He was slammed backwards into the Pain's mainmast with enough force that his vision blacked for a moment; the next thing he knew he was sitting at the base of the mast with his back to it, cradling the precious glowing thing in his arms. Staring down at it, he felt a profound connection to his god, deeper than ever before. Hektis the Warrior, the Touchstone, Lord of Battles, trusted and cared for him, Gorfang, enough to entrust him with this infinitely precious thing. For the first time, his violent, aggressive, self-centred soul reached out and bonded with another. At that moment, far from home, on the edge between reality and annihilation, Gorfang truly became a priest of Hektis.
Watching his companion thrown from his feet, Eloy hurled himself into a vacant harvesting chair before calling his seed towards him. With no telepathy available to him, he had more of a struggle reaching out and making contact with his seed, but after some effort he managed to connect and draw it to the ship. The impact rocked him in his chair, but he managed to retain his grip. Struggling out of the chair, he stumbled across the deck and down the companionway into the hold, where he shoved his Seed into a jar and sealed it. Picking up the jar and another for Gorfang, he climbed back up to the deck and helped the orc secure his seed.
As they screwed the lid on, Gorfang glaced up at the Gates. Two overbright seeds still whirled around the cloud; probably linked to Gennen and Nebekheshut as theirs were to Hektis and Sabath. He shrugged and turned away. "Right, let's go home," he suggested. "Straff? Time to go!" The corrupt angel stared at him. "You have a means of leaving?" he asked disbelievingly. Gorfang unpacked one of the clay tiles the Khabran Kings had provided. "Sure," he said and snapped it. Nothing happened. "I thought not," said Straff. "This demiplane is sealed, you know. We'll need to use your portal to Sigil."
Slowly, the ship lifted from the gravity well of the Gates, turning with ponderous grace to a heading back towards the City Forever. As she did so, Straff leaned over the rail and stared into the distance where the anomalous rock holding the City hung in nothingness. A cluster of small dots was clearly visible against the dark bulk, flickerwing ships heading towards them from the City.
Straff spoke in a worried voice. "There should not be that many ships out at once..." he said.
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Session Date: 1st Feb 2012 |
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