Okay, this starts right where we left off last session. Open to all. Uhhh, except Robert, I guess, since both of his characters are dead..........Sorry, Robert. Maybe Tim'll let you borrow Ellia?



Febrien climbed unsteadily down from Brude’s enchanted fly, nearly falling as a wave of dizziness overtook her. She had just enough sense left to deactivate the spell upon the stone, shrinking the insect back into a small statue and draining the life from its body. She dropped the item into Brude’s outstretched hand as she passed, waving off his questioning look as he surveyed her state and the copious amount of blood covering her. There would be time for that later.

Now, she veered toward the tent, shoving through the unsecured flap and collapsing with her back resting against the far wall. Arius rested in the middle of the tent’s shelter, his face pale and drawn, and she heard Ellia’s light snoring drifting from the shadows on the other side of him. Febrien laboriously pulled off one boot, then the other. Her armor came next, each piece dumped into an uncharacteristic jumble in the corner. She removed her pack and set it carefully next to her armor, following this with her longbow, her twin scabbards, and one of her two longswords. The exhausted ranger swayed as she stood to spread her bedroll, nearly falling again, but she managed to catch herself and get safely situated. Just before she gave herself over to the looming oblivion, she pulled her other sword to within easy reach, its hilt resting reassuringly next to her limp hand. As the dark relief of sleep crept in to claim her, a voice surfaced from the shadows and drew her back into awareness once more.

“Febrien?”

“Hmm?” she slurred, tilting her head in Arius’ direction. The dark elf sounded as spent as she felt, and the ranger marveled that he was conscious at all.

“Did you find anything?” Despite all that had passed between the warlock and the unfortunate monk, she thought she detected a faint twinge of hope in his voice.

Febrien winced, closing her eyes tightly. “Just a piece,” she replied after several moments, her voice barely audible. “That was all that was left.”



Febrien stumbled down from the obsidian fly’s saddle, her heart in her throat. While Brude had assured her that his flying stone monstrosity was perfectly safe to nap on, the view of the treetops rushing past over a hundred feet below had rendered the ranger unable to sleep. The elven woman was only too happy when her feet reunited with solid ground, and she took a moment to examine her surroundings while she recovered. The sandy road leading from Ki-shou all the way to Airon-musha stretched to the limit of her vision on either side of her, an unbroken ribbon hemmed in by the ever darkening forest. A sullen moon rose over the horizon, barely discernable through the leaden cloud cover. Deactivating the offending fly, the ranger turned to the north and began the first of many hours of meticulous searching for anything that might help to resurrect the fallen monk. She distinctly remembered an ugly gash across his chest after one of the bears had mauled him.

There must be some flesh left somewhere, she thought in determination.

Febrien scanned the grass next to the dirt road in careful concentration, straining her eyes against the darkness, perversely hoping to catch the sight or smell of blood. But after nearly five hours of searching, she had yet to find anything useful. Pausing to curse the heavy clouds that hid the moon, the ranger straightened and stretched, trying to massage the cramps from her stiff back. As she started to bend down once more, she saw it. Several yards ahead lay the ruined chariot, its bulk no more than a darker shade of black at the shadowed edge of the bamboo forest.

Her spirits rose as she jogged toward the one-time battlefield. As she drew closer, she could just make out small amounts of blood ahead mixed with the dirt of the path, along with the more noticeable impressions of panda tracks. She was still a good distance away, however, when she heard the unmistakable snarl of large dogs fighting. The elven woman carefully rounded a slight bend in the path, scanning the forest for the source of the savage growling. She needn’t look far; ahead and to her left, a pack of feral Gurl-hounds raced about in the scant moonlight, snapping and fighting over something. Slipping quietly into the forest and creeping as close as she dared, the woman crouched behind a large tree trunk and tried to make out what the dogs were fighting over. She realized what it was just as the pack leader snatched it and gulped it down, not bothering to chew.

It was a piece of flesh.

Febrien sprang into action, drawing her bow and sighting in on the massive female. She slowed her breathing and let fly, taking the ugly brute through the neck. She cursed and stowed her weapon as the remaining hounds, sensing their leader’s weakness and scenting blood, turned upon the unfortunate female. Without thinking, the ranger drew her main-hand weapon and leaped into the fray, striking the most aggressive of the beasts across the muzzle with the flat of her blade. The startled hound stepped back and bared his teeth at the elven woman, shifting his weight back and preparing to spring. As he launched himself forward, however, Febrien deftly stepped out of the way and delivered a staggering blow to his shoulder, sending the brute sprawling. The rest of the pack regarded her uncertainly, most with teeth showing. Reaching for her other sword, the ranger dropped down and swept her blades in a circle, effectively scattering the hapless canines. As the animals yelped and retreated into the tree line, she rose and approached the fallen leader.

Febrien crouched to check for a pulse and, finding a faint rhythm, withdrew her hunting knife. She reached down and deftly slit the animal's throat, raising her arm against the spray of blood. She then made quick work of the carcass, gutting the animal quickly and slicing neatly into the stomach. The ranger dumped out its contents, recoiling a little at the smell, and rooted around desperately in the muck. After a moment, she cried out triumphantly and bent to examine her prize.

A lump of flesh roughly the size of her palm lay in the dirt, gobs of saliva and stomach fluids dripping from the torn edges. Teeth marks marred the pale flesh, but the little piece was otherwise unharmed. Febrien picked it up gingerly, wiping away the dirt and slime as best she could. Suddenly, her face fell as she realized it wasn’t big enough. She stowed it dejectedly in her pack anyway, then turned to survey the remainder of the former battlefield. A broken expanse of ground met her gaze, boot prints marring the path and the grass torn asunder by the churning of ursine claws. A large panda, oblivious to the disruption of a few moments ago, sat high in a nearby tree, munching loudly in contentment. Heaving a sigh, the elf made her way back to the road, scanning the ground carefully for anything else that might prove usable.

She found nothing.

After two more hours of searching, the ranger was forced to admit that there was nothing more she could do.

I’m sorry, Hayato, she thought, her eyes rising to the grey and overcast sky. I tried my hardest for you, my friend. Her head sagged in defeat as she pulled out Brude’s fly statue and activated its enchantment once more.



“It wasn’t enough,” she said, turning over to face the dark elf as moisture stung her eyes. “I failed him, Arius.”

“Hush,” he replied simply. “If anything could have been done, you would have done it. You, of all of us seemed to harbor the most patience for his incompetence. All we can do now is see that he is returned to his family. At least, what’s left of him.” His eyes drooped, then, and Febrien could see the toll that speech was taking on the injured elf.

“Yes,” she agreed, her resolve surfacing once more. “I can at least grant him that.”

“Good. Rest, then,” he replied faintly, “and we’ll make the arrangements in the morning.” And with that, Arius eyes slid slowly closed, his breathing evening and deepening in slumber.

Febrien turned over once more and closed her eyes, but despite her exhaustion, sleep now eluded her. Outside, her panda bear noisily stripped branches from the bamboo trees surrounding them, emitting a low groan of contentment now and then. Farther away, she could hear Kiera grazing absently, pausing every few moments to lift her head and gaze toward the tent in a worried manner. The worn-out ranger spared a thought for her friend, assuring her that she would be alright by morning. Brude, of course, remained a silent presence, never heard, but felt as a shiver along her spine as he passed. As the ranger finally fell into darkness, the wind shifted abruptly, sending a tendril of smoke from the campfire through the tent flaps. The acrid tang of wood smoke, normally such a welcome scent, now assaulted the ranger’s senses, unexpectedly vaulting her into a waking nightmare.

Smoke was everywhere.

The stench lay over everything, insidious and forbidding. It clogged Febrien’s nose and throat, but she found herself unable to gag to clear her senses. Through the trees ahead, flames flickered uncertainly between scorched trunks. The smell of death and decay rode upon the wind, repelling all but the stoutest of scavengers. Against her will, the ranger drew ever closer, unable to halt her inevitable approach. She didn’t know exactly what lay beyond the line where the trees ended, their bark black and curling, but she knew that she didn’t want to. She fought to free herself from the unknown force that propelled her ever forward, thrashing and crying out in vain.

“Arius?” Ellia called, her voice slightly alarmed. “I think something’s wrong with Febrien…”

The clearing ahead drew near, and Febrien could now feel the heat from the flames playing across her face. She cleared the edge of the forest and moaned as she caught sight of what lay ahead. It had been a flourishing village nestled at the foot of the volcano before the demons and devils had reached it; now it lay in utter ruin. Smoking shells of houses dotted the barren landscape, their roofs sagging or collapsed. Bodies lay strewn about, littering all that was not already covered in rubble. Arms or legs lay here or there, along with miscellaneous parts that were mangled beyond all recognition. Crows held court upon the dead, gleefully pecking at eyeballs and the more tender morsels.

Arius dragged himself up from a deep sleep, working to make sense of what Ellia was saying.

“Arius, there’s something wrong, and I can’t get her out of it,” the frantic bard called to him. “I can’t find anything wrong physically, but she keeps crying out, and she won’t wake up!” Seeing the dark elf’s struggle to comprehend in his injured state, the bard reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder, infusing him with healing energy.

The warlock snapped to attention as his head cleared somewhat, rolling onto his knees next to his ailing friend.

“Febrien, can you hear me?” he called, gently giving her shoulders a shake. He recoiled at the clammy feel of her skin. Her features, normally graceful and untroubled, were now drawn and overlaid by a deathly pallor. As he watched, her mouth opened in a wrenching moan and her eyes flew back and forth rapidly under her fluttering lids.

“Febrien!” he yelled, more sharply than before. Still she made no response.

As Febrien gazed over the carnage before her, a hulking shape lurched into view. She caught a glimpse of mottled green hide and the flash of a tentacle and paled in horror and recognition. The carrion beast before her rooted about the wreckage and surfaced with a disembodied leg clutched in its jaws. As she watched, the unnatural creature grasped the limb in its pincers and began ripping it apart with a wet tearing sound. Unable to flee, the ranger was forced to observe as the monster sated its hunger on the dead, rending and tearing all in its path.

The elf was so engrossed with the display before her that she nearly missed the dark figure descending from the volcano’s summit. She caught the flutter of movement just as the new being approached the carrion crawler from behind. Screaming in rage, the carrion beast lunged around at the newcomer and lashed out with its tentacles. The figure never even broke stride, retaliating with a ray of dark energy that sent the monster into a frantic retreat.

Febrien gasped as she recognized the now-visible form, struggling not to cry out. The evil being glanced in her direction, his eyes lighting in demonic glee as a flash of recognition crossed his grotesque features. He raised his arms and chanted something in an unrecognizable tongue. The ranger stared in disbelief as a fiery glow appeared on either side of him, dwarfing the light from the all-encompassing flames. As she watched, the spheres of light resolved into a matched pair of snarling hellhounds, flames leaping up where their paws touched the ground.

“I thought you might like another round with my pets,” he called out, sending forth a sinister laugh. “After all, they did so enjoy your little friend.”

Advancing, he suddenly flung another ray of malign power, this time directed at her. Struggling to retreat, she cried out as the power burned along her right shoulder, igniting a streak of agony where it made contact. Thankfully, the power that held her in thrall deemed it prudent to retreat as well, and soon the glow from the burning village receded behind her. As the pain in her shoulder throbbed, the hold on her seemed to lessen, finally falling away into nothing…

Kiera screamed in panic as Arius worked to revive the silent form before him. The whole of Ellia’s healing powers had had no affect on the unconscious elf, and Daerist informed him that the bonded warhorse had lost mental contact with Febrien several minutes ago. The dark elf was wracking his brains for anything else he could try when his companion suddenly cried out and lurched upright, her eyes wide. Her face had drained of all color, and her body trembled faintly.

“He’s coming!” the ranger yelled, staring about at her companions in a disoriented manner. “Arius, the lich–”

“Is dead,” he interrupted her reassuringly, trying to push her into a reclining position. “What concerns me is what just happened to you. Were you dreaming?”

“No, I wasn’t dreaming. You don’t understand,” she insisted, fighting herself into a sitting position and grabbing Arius by the shoulders. “I saw Airon-musha and the volcano. The lich has regenerated, and he knows where we are! He attacked me somehow before I could get away, caught me in the shoulder with that burning ray…”

Arius grabbed the elf’s wildly gesturing arms as something caught his attention. His eyes widening in disbelief, he raised her right arm to the light, and stared. There, stretching from the back of her shoulder to the inside of her upper arm, was a rapidly fading burn.

Good read. It's too bad I can't really contribute to this...

Thanks, Robert - I worked hard on it. Sorry about your characters.

Ding dong hay-ah-toes dead-

...

Oh wait I already did that...

I'm not sorry at all... as a matter of fact... you're all darn lucky I didn't perma-kill you all when I had the chance. Hayato, Brude, Arius (especially him) Febrian.... none of them should have survived in any capacity.

It's sad to me that Tim of all people gets the title of evil DM... I must be the neutral one then...

Arius staggered to his feet.

His vision swam, changing the familiar interior of the lantern-lit tent to a rushing blur of light and color. Disoriented, the burned-out eladrin would have fallen back into his bedroll had Ellia not leapt to her feet, reaching out to support him as his sight returned to normal. He leaned against the bard, looking over her shoulder to where Febrien lay trembling, his eyes locked on the mysterious wound across her upper arm. The words that she’d spoken upon awakening tore through his exhausted mind like fire.

“The lich…”

“Arius!” Ellia exclaimed as he pulled away from her, pushing the tent flap aside and stepping out into the balmy night air.

Darkness closed in around the fey warlock, the light of the stars and the moon obscured by a veil of angry, black clouds; in the distance, lightning flashed, a bolt of searing white that tore through the murky darkness. The only other light source was Arius himself, whose pale skin gave off a ghostly glow, emanating through the tears and holes that his black leather armor now bore. He scanned the surrounding darkness, his iridescent eyes narrowing as he found what, or rather who, he sought.

What Arius saw made his blood run cold.

Brude stood several feet away, his body bathed in a single shaft of moonlight that had miraculously managed to break through the oppressive cloud cover. Whether he heard the rustle of tent canvas or somehow sensed Arius’ presence, the dark rogue turned to face the eladrin. As he did so, though, Arius saw a strange, phantom over-lay upon his long-time companion. This ghostly image turned with Brude, moved with Brude, but most certainly did not share Brude’s placid look of calm intrigue; rather, the lips of this illusory creature were curled into a mocking sneer, which seemed directed specifically at Arius. It wasn’t this disconcerting expression that chilled the fey-bound eladrin to his core, though: it was the striking familiarity of it.

The over-lay matched Brude in height, though Arius knew that—in reality—the figure had been several inches shorter. His long, silver-streaked black hair was pulled back into a flawless, tight pony-tail, without even a single strand left loose or undone. The face seemed open and friendly, all but the smirk, though that too was only a front, and one that Arius intimately knew as well; laugh lines around his slate-grey eyes and at the corners of his mouth were the only imperfections on the otherwise smooth, flawless skin.

“Arius?”

The eladrin warrior turned, taking his eyes off of Brude for only a moment as Ellia stepped out from the tent. When he returned his attention to the shadowy thief-lord, the ghostly image that had accompanied him was gone, leaving Arius to wonder whether it had ever truly existed at all. Shaking off the sudden chill that had gripped him, Arius walked away from the tent, passing Brude and beckoning him to follow with the slightest of gestures. The doppelganger looked toward Ellia, shrugged, and followed after his eladrin ally.

Ellia did not appreciate being so ignored.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going in your condition?” she demanded, taking a few steps forward and resting her hands on her hips, her green eyes flashing with indignation.

“It doesn’t matter; stay here, understand?” Arius replied, never even bothering to turn around as he staggered toward the site of their last battle with the lich and his minions. “You’ve done all you can to heal me, Ellia; my staying here will do me no good now.”

Ellia was stunned. “Well… Well what am I supposed to tell her?” she asked, inclining her head toward the tent behind her, a dim light glowing out from the opened flap.

“Tell her nothing,” Arius replied nonchalantly, waving off the question. At this, Brude grinned. Arius stopped, swaying slightly, catching himself on a nearby tree before he toppled over. “And stay here; you’re all that may be standing between her and destruction. Don’t let me down, Ellia…”

With that, Arius disappeared from view as he stepped into the shadows, his dark cloak and armor helping to conceal him as he went, despite the pale glow emanating from him. Brude ignored Ellia’s presence also as he joined Arius, both adventurers making their way toward the massive, glass-lined crater that had been left in the aftermath of Brude’s all-or-nothing gambit.

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The ground crunched beneath their feet.

The crater stretched out before them, nearly a hundred feet from end to end, glistening slightly in the dim light of the few stars that had managed to peak out from behind the clouds. The heat and magical discharge from Brude’s reckless strike had melted the earth, changing it from dark, sandy soil to an inverted cauldron of cracked and imperfect glass; it seemed dreamlike, striding across this field of shimmering crystal, the air damp and charged by the approaching storm. Arius glanced askance at Brude, shuddering involuntarily at the shadowy aura that enveloped the rogue, a strange absence of light that seemed altogether different from the dark night around them.

Brude smirked. “Something have you spooked or what?” he asked, his eyes glittering with entertainment at Arius’ obvious discomfort.

“You don’t know what you’ve done.” The reply was cold, tinged with a distant fear; or, perhaps, distant memories.

“I know exactly what I’ve done,” Brude responded, the expression of smug amusement replaced now by one of dark frustration. “How different is it, really, from what you’ve done anyway? Did you not make a pact for power yourself?” he asked vehemently. “Did you not bind yourself to this ‘Daerist’ in exchange for power you could have never gained on your own? Don’t talk down to me, elf, or treat me differently for what I’ve done; you have no right, and neither does Febrien.”

Arius stopped, his eyes flashing with ill-concealed anger. “Don’t think to compare your reasons to my own,” the eladrin hissed, his mind swimming suddenly from this influx of anger. He closed his eyes to ease his blurring vision, opening them again mere seconds later. Brude had walked ahead of him, and Arius was startled that he had heard no sound of cracking glass.

Brude’s reputation for moving unseen and unheard was, it seemed, well justified.

“Honestly, Arius,” the doppelganger continued, turning to glance at the amethyst-eyed warlock over his shoulder, his face lost in the shadows of his cloak. “Everyone is so quick to judge me for the things I’ve done in exchange for power, but they seem to conveniently forget what you’ve done.” He turned to face Arius again, his eyes pools of shadow in the nearly-nonexistent moon and starlight.

Arius was seething, and he felt—to his surprise—Daerist’s own furious anger as well.

Brude went on unabated. “Think about it, Arius. When Galdria was destroyed, what did you do? You were taken in by that woman, Nanethiel; she played a lute, didn’t she?” He smiled broadly at the shock that this statement clearly caused Arius.

“How did you—”

“He’s reading your thoughts, Arius,” Daerist interrupted. “Guard your mind well, lest he use it against you.”

“Are the two of you finished?” Brude asked with mock patience. “Where was I… Oh yes, Nanethiel. Tell me, Arius: was learning to play your violin something that you wanted to do, or was it her idea? I’m sure that, homeless and desperate as you were, the music that the two of you played was often your only way to gain money or lodging, correct?” He waited, reading Arius’ expression and—perhaps—his thoughts as well. “Don’t you get it? She was using you; using your talent for her own well-being. I would have thought that you’ve realized that by now.” Brude paused again, shaking his head and letting out a heavy sigh. “But then again, perhaps you aren’t quite as smart as you like everyone to think.

“What are you talking about?” Arius growled, taking a single step toward Brude. “This has nothing to do with the pact that you’ve made, Brude. It has nothing to do with gaining power.”

“Doesn’t it? Do you not now possess the power of music? And what a tremendous power it is, wouldn’t you agree?” The thief-lord crossed his arms over his chest, locking his deep, dark eyes on Arius, who glared squarely back. “You made quite a name for yourself in Belra, if I remember correctly. A whole mob of adoring fans, people who were under your complete control, had you but the spine to command them. That is a kind of power, Arius: the power of dominion. And to gain it, all you had to do was bind yourself to that woman, become hers. You served her for years, decades even; you even travelled the world with her, leaving your homeland and its sick and desperate people far behind you.” He paused for effect. “You abandoned your people for that power…”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Too close to home, hmm?” Brude quickly responded. “Alright then, let’s move on. Who came next… Who did you next lower yourself to serve?” He perked up, his eyes widening with false realization. “Tempest.”

Arius’ reaction to the name was physical. He flinched back, eyes widening, hands clenched into trembling fists. Brude laughed darkly before speaking again.

“Does it still haunt your dreams, Arius, the ‘deal’ that you made with him? But wasn’t the power you received worth it? It must have been intoxicating, godlike even.” Brude’s voice became filled with malice as he went on, low and calculating, drawing on Arius’ surface thoughts to find the words that he knew would most disturb the eladrin. “To be able to kill with a touch; I can scarcely even imagine what that must have felt like.”

“Enough,” Arius spoke, his eyes glowing with wrath. “You have no idea what it was like. It wasn’t power, Brude, it was a curse.”

“Spare me, Arius, I’ve heard your moping sob-story enough times that it makes me sick. How unfair, how underserved; the things I could do with a power like that…” He shook his head, turning away from Arius and making his way deeper into the crater, toward the spot where the lich had finally been defeated.

His footsteps made no sound.

“I can see that I’m making you uncomfortable,” Brude said from ahead of Arius, who had remained rooted in place. “Unfortunately, I’m not quite finished yet. You see, there’s still one more ‘deal’ to discuss, isn’t there?” At this Brude stopped, turning and walking back to where Arius still stood. With barely a foot between them, Brude raised his hand and jabbed a single finger into the warlock’s forehead. “Him. Daerist.”

At this, Arius felt a sudden shift of energy within his own mind, and he was knocked back as a wave of psychic force exploded out from him. Brude looked shocked, but only for a moment. A nimbus of dark energy—similar to the aura that normally enveloped the rogue yet distinctly different—burst up around the doppelganger, deflecting the psychic attack before immediately dissipating itself.

Both warriors stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“Forgive me,” Daerist spoke within Arius’ mind, sounding exhausted. “But I couldn’t stand to listen to another word of this filth.”

Brude smiled nervously, looking a bit shaken. “Well, well, it seems your ‘benefactor’ isn’t the only one who can act independently, eh?” He laughed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Had my new ally not intervened, who knows what damage Daerist’s little outburst may have done. How very childish.”

“Never again, Daerist,” Arius thought toward the ancient king. “Don’t ever act without consulting me, do you understand?”

He received no response.

Shrugging off his shock, Brude continued his verbal assault. “So you’ve bound yourself to yet another questionable entity, and in exchange you have received power. Power, Arius… Isn’t that what it’s all about, in the end?” His face became its usual arrogant mask, but his voice still held and edge of accusation. “So maybe before you and your friends judge me about my means of gaining power, you should take a long look at your own.”

“It isn’t the same.”

“No,” Brude replied sarcastically, “of course not.

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AMdG