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[Inspectre]

The Heavens

Dorizzit

You swiftly disable your attackers, the small crowd of shackled prisoners cheering you on. For some of your blows, the armor has evaporated away enough to be extremely brittle, shattering beneath your blows and revealing patches of bare human skin underneath. Whatever has been done to them, whatever threats to their families the fiends used to motivate them to do this, they are truly human beneath the armor. From his position slumped against the wall, the defeated leader groans, his tone accusatory and grief-stricken.

“’You don’t know what you’ve done. Up here safe and warm, you have no idea – ugh! ARRRGGHH!”

As you watch, the last of a crucial section of the man’s armor suddenly snaps apart, too thin and brittle to remain intact anymore. This triggers a spring, which in turn operates a lever, and suddenly the still-intact iron collar around the man’s throat suddenly constricts violently, crushing his throat. Upon his death, his body begins moving with a life of its own, dragged by the same invisible force that had pulled away the first six defeated men. The Hells would never relinquish what it has claimed. In rapid succession, the other five invaders’ armor deteriorates to a similar point, and all of their bodies are pulled down the street. When they get to the buildings that the angel had used to block the street, they go up the side of the buildings, still being dragged towards their ultimate destination relentlessly.

The three former prisoners’ cheers turns to screams of panic as their chains begin to react in a similar manner, dragging them back the street after the bodies, their efforts to strain back and stop themselves futile. A man, a woman, and their young daughter – although given the relative age in the Heavens, the child could have been their mother in life. Even so, the appearance of this small family being threatened with damnation inspired you to draw parallels to your own. You knew you had to help them, but how!?

Any keys to the shackles would have been on the men, who were already disappearing out of sight over the roof of the blockading buildings. And from the glimpses you had gotten of the shackles before the three started being dragged down the street, there were no keyholes, the shackles not intended to be opened until the fiends waiting in the Hells so willed it. The chains were smoking though, not a vigorously as the men’s armor, but still being rejected by the Heavens. Perhaps – yes, the chains might be brittle enough to shatter, just like the armor had become! But you would have to catch up to them first, and that was going to be a lot more difficult in a moment when they all started being dragged up into the air along the side of the buildings!

The Hells

The Estate of Lord Nihilus

Iethloc

Xerxes grinned and shrugged.

“Fiend Lords just happen to “lose” and “find” each other’s pets all the time. I imagine a powerful mage like the Baronness will be quite a valuable pet, however. They will be particularly interested in the ritual to summon the Hells, given that they have not had access to it for a long time. Not since Istomilo – hrm, what a disappointment he turned out to be! Or at least, so I’ve heard from others.”

Xerxes studied his claws thoughtfully.

“Still. There is more than one way to eat a cat, and I doubt you will mind getting your hands, such as they are, dirty. Plus, you *are* “Nihilus”, and that name commands a certain amount of respect. I will look into the matter, although it may take a little bit of time. With so many new toys to play with, the Hells are somewhat disorganized at the moment. That being said, I’ve been hearing that a majority of the humans have been moved to the Black General’s fortress. I will start my search there.”

Xerxes turns towards the door, but upon reaching it he stops and looks back.

“You know, I have heard rumors that Nihilus is back – and not just those concerning “you”. You may want to keep a close eye on what “you” are doing. After all, there is only one Nihilus. And while “you” are busy now, “you” could return home at any time.”

Xerxes then leaves, allowing you to lower your guard, as much as you did down in this literal Hellhole. That went surprisingly well, particularly given the cards that the devil was holding. Still, it was fortunate that he was so willing to negotiate. You doubted many other fiends would be as willing if they ever learned of your true nature. Xerxes’s warning about the real Nihilus’s return was troubling, however. Judging by the sad state of his manor, Nihilus rarely came home, but that did not mean he wouldn’t. And if he was actually moving about, that meant that more and more fiends might become aware of the possibility that Nihilus clearly couldn’t be speaking to them, and resting at his manor at the same time. All the more reason to get out of here as quickly as you could, and it was likely prudent to seek out other options beyond relying on Xerxes and the Baron’s wife.

(Anything else Sohssal is going to look into while waiting for Xerxes to locate Isabella?)

The Screaming Dark Estate

OverWilliam

(Just to make sure OverWilliam is not as confused as Tare, Videle was talking about the captured angel right there in the room with them. If she had stayed in the Heavens, she wouldn’t have been at the Battle of Narle, and if she hadn’t been at the Battle of Narle she wouldn’t be down in the Hells right now. Thus, she’s not innocent either. )

After struggling for so long to fend off Videle’s overt and covert attempts at seduction, you were starting to crack. Then she showed you that Death had brought some . . . significant changes with it, and you almost shattered completely. Gravity suddenly seemed to be reversed, or sideways, or some other direction that didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense for that matter, and you barely heard the rest of Videle’s offer over the ringing buzz in your ears.

Struggling to keep yourself standing on this suddenly shifting floor (or was it merely that your legs were weak?), you release your frustrations and fears in the form of a rant. You are only dimly aware of what you’re saying until the words have left your mouth, everything rushing out in a torment. And then another wave of nausea hits, and you fear that it will be something other than words flowing out of your mouth next.

Fortunately, the wall is there to catch you, and then the floor. Everything still feels like it’s spinning around and around and around though. Your voice just above a whisper, you utter a plea, or perhaps an unheard prayer. The world recedes to a single dancing point for several long moments, and then you hear a soft voice.

“Tare . . . Tare . . .”

Grasping hold of that sound, you follow it back to the real world. For a moment, your mind plays a cruel trick on you, as you think that you are back in the real world, being woken from a terrible dream by Melcara. But then your vision clears and you can see that if the past few minutes have been a nightmare, you are simply picking up where you left off.

Stretched out on the floor luxuriously a few feet away from you is Videle, her head propped up by one hand. At least, you can only assume it’s Videle – she has changed a fair bit, taking on an entirely human form. She stills wears her default face, but it is subtly different, the cheekbones not quite as well defined and her hair pulled back into pigtails rather than hanging down to frame her face. Her clothing has also morphed, becoming a far more chaste version of the dress she put on for you earlier. The whole effect makes her look much more like a simple teenaged girl rather than a succubus queen.

“Tare . . . oh! There you go, you’re back now. I was worried about you.”

Videle favors you with a sheepish smile that seems oddly fitting with her newest look.

“I’m sorry. I pushed you too hard, too fast. It’s a very big adjustment to make, and most beings done here delight in making that transition as painful as possible.”

Videle’s smile changes into a pouty frown, although on her new face it looks more adorable than sexy.

“Down here you only have the power that you can hold onto. In a way, I am just as helpless as the lowliest Ix, because there are certain expectations that restrain my behavior. But I . . . I hate it! I want to change it, but I can’t – I’m not strong enough!”

Videle emphasizes her point by thumping a fist against the floor. To your surprise, her eyes starts to get misty, and then actual tears begin to flow down her face as she continues.

“That’s why I want – need, your help! B-but I don’t know h-how to ask! And . . . and you have this transition of your own to make, and I want to help you make it, because I’m afraid you’ll lose what makes you who you are now. So many others, when they get down here, they change because they have to in order to survive. I don’t want that for you but I don’t know how to help you! P-please, please tell me how I can help you Tamerlane!”

Videle covers her juvenile face in her hands, sobbing into them like some sort of princess out of a fairy tale. It was a little . . . too convenient, but on the other hand if her attempts were sincere it would explain her erratic behavior. As a creature of the Hells, she had probably had the ability to relate and connect with others beaten out of her, beyond a certain definition of “connecting”. And once she clawed her way up to the top of the heap, power had an isolating effect of its own.

The Mortal Realm

Yet Another Worthless Speck of a Town

Gorgondantess

“Yes ma’am!”

The two humans replied as they obeyed, ducking inside while you turned to deal with the mob of fiends. Funny how that worked – humans were so eager to serve something more powerful than themselves, whether that be an actual being, another human, or even a “cause”. And at the same time they could just as easily turn their back on everything they previously believed and strike out in a different direction. Maurice was right – humans are a fascinating lot, because unlike animals, or rocks, or trees, they are not what they are. They are what they *choose* to be – and that can change on a whim.

It’s possible you were underestimating these fiends as well, but they certainly seemed little less than beasts as they recklessly threw themselves at you. You focused on cutting them down not with speed or brutality, but efficiency. You could have probably kept this up literally all day, as the few blows that the fiends landed did next to nothing to your form – nothing that could not be healed within a moment, at least. But you didn’t really have all day, and so you created your own living barrier out of a few fiends and your own biomass, and then dove through it, into the building. Through its connection to your back you can feel more of the fiends stupidly trying to cut through it, only to be caught by tentacles and absorbed themselves.

Then something heavy and massive slammed down into the center of it, cutting it cleanly in half. The separated portion likely died off then, no longer under your subconscious control although it still probably gave a good account of itself before it ran out of energy. Another similar blow severed the rest from your back, and the thick vein retracted back into you – it was starting to become rather long and unwieldy running from you to the biomass anyway.

This did reveal two important facts, however – one, there were much more powerful fiends here than the trash you had just dealt with. And two, the way was now open for the fiends to once more pour into the building, although in considerably less numbers after your efforts. Hopefully, you would find this Speaker soon – they had said he was on the third level, and you had just found a stairway up to the second.

Suddenly, your attention is attracted by the sound of panicked screams, and you look down the hallway to your right just as a woman with long red hair comes dashing into sight around the corner. She slides to a halt upon catching sight of you, clumsily stumbling over her own feet in her attempt to stop from a full sprint so quickly. She goes down onto her butt, and a moment later what the woman was fleeing from originally rounds the corner as well – two more trash demons. You dispatch the two of them with barely a thought, flicking out your long muscular claw limb and slapping both of their heads off. The woman cowers and crawls back away from you, stopping a moment later as she backs into a stand holding some sort of religious icon, which had been sitting against the wall minding its own business.

“Pleasedon’tkillmepleasedon’tkillmepleasedon’tkill me!”

The woman blurts out, clearly quite grateful for your help as she covers her head with her arms protectively. You aren’t sure whether it would be better to try to reassure her directly, or simply leave, allowing her to draw her own conclusions. Before you can do either, the two paladins suddenly appear from another corridor and rush over to join you.

“It’s alright, she’s a, uh . . . a friend?”

One of the paladins offers helpfully, and the woman seems to relax a little. Still shooting nervous glances at you, the woman turns her attention to the paladins.

“Do you know if Ander is still in the Council Chambers? I need to warn him that we have an intruder in his chambers!”

“We don’t know – the hallway leading to the Council Chamber has collapsed! We’re not sure even if the Chamber itself is intact or not!”

Well, wouldn’t that just be typical – the human leader goes and gets himself squished before you could talk to him! Although, it seems rather weird that only one section of the building has collapsed while the rest of it remains so intact. Perhaps the Speaker was merely trying to protect himself – or keep something in with him. Either way, the stone walls of this place are still just stone, “holy” to these humans or not. You could clear a passageway into these Council Chambers with ease.

“Hey, you could fly up there, and go down through the sunroof! Assuming the Council Chamber is still intact, that is. Umm . . . should be pretty obvious if it’s not.”

One of the paladins suddenly suggested, pointing at your wings, and then at a nearby window which he moved to swing open. The red-haired woman closed her eyes and grimaced, as if swallowing something unpleasant, and then blurted out.

“Take me with you! I have to warn Ander about this as quickly as possible!”

Silverstream

Vegna

You cut the dead down quickly, and between the three of you it takes little time at all to bury them. Periodically while you labor, the elf stops to summon up a group of elementals and sends them out. It is completely dark by the time you are finished, and your friends are just silhouettes moving about.

"Now, stay close to me, and keep quiet. If they so much as hear us breathing out there, they'll put arrows in all of us."

"Yeah, so how we gonna know when we're getting close?"

Val'tosh rumbles, prompting a frown and a shrug from the elf.

"I'll think of something. Like this!"

The elf gestured, summoning a tremor of earth beneath your feet that pulses for a moment before it stops. Your ogre friend shrugs.

"Fair enough. Let's go."

Through your contact with the ground, you are able to keep track of the elf and follow along after her. How Val'Tosh keeps track of you, you don't know, but you can periodically hear your friend crashing through the underbush and cursing under his breath as he tries over roots. The sad part is that this was likely Val'Tosh's best efforts to be stealthy.

It is slow going through the forest without the aid of any trails or roads to follow, and you can't help but feeling as if you are only getting further and further behind the elves. But you can't give up, you owe it to the survivors of Silverstream to not give up. An hour passes in this way, and then two, and then . . . you suddenly feel a tremor pass through your feet. A moment later and the she elf slips back over to you and Val'Tosh.

"There's a group of them about five minutes ahead - I'm not sure how many, but there's a lot. Elementals aren't exactly good at counting. I'm not sure what happened to cause them to stop, but they've stopped and they're sending patrols out into the forest. Maybe they're looking for someone who escaped from the group? Master Vork?"

The elf is silent for a moment, and then clears her throat.

"So, um . . . what do we do?"

"You don't have an answer?"

Val'Tosh rumbled.

"That's a surprise."

"Hey! I shouldn't have to be the only one that comes up with plans here!"

Luxien, The Cathedral City

Baerdog7

(You didn’t really think I only sent one Fiend Lord for Ander to deal with, did you? )

Theme Song - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKY5h...feature=relmfu

Summoning your divine power and wrath, you spot for a moment to lay a hand on Tyra, giving her a small but not insignificant jolt of healing energy. Kranmer in response to your shouted command nods, but continues working on removing the glass shard. With a final decisive tug, he pulls the bloodstained glass out of Tyra’s neck, and lays his hand over the wound as it begins to spurt blood. The flow of blood rapidly slows, and Kranmer begins pulling her up onto her feet. Luxford comes over to help, but Kranmer waves him off and motions for him to continue guarding the door.

Winril and Melisan both look at you in confusion, and then shock as you plunge your hands into Melissan’s chest. The angel screams and falls to her knees, and then down onto her side, your extraction of the soul crystal effective but deadly.

“Thank you.”

Melissan murmurs, an instant before her eyes close and her body fades away into light, a sure sign that she has been saved. Muttering something under his breath, Winril runs over to help Kranmer support Tyra’s weight as the three of them stumble out of the room with Luxford leading the way. Quietus howls in ever greater fury as he sees most of his potential victims getting away. That howl changes significantly in pitch a moment later when you slaughter his reinforcements by collapsing the hallways leading into the room, and Ysora drops the barrier only to reform it behind him.

“No no no no no! I know how this goes!”

Quietus screams as you leap into the midst of the tornado, ignoring the slashing debris that cuts into you. You catch a flicker of greyish green dancing about within the storm, the only evidence of Quietus’s existence within the maelstrom. It is rapidly cycling away from you, ironically backing itself further into a corner in its attempts to keep away from you.

“Yvonne! Anguish!? SOMEBODY!? HELP! I NEED AN ADULT!!!”

As if in reply, a brilliant beam of light suddenly blasted a hole in the floor. A moment later, and a long serpentine, brilliant crimson creature skittered into the room on far too many legs. Or perhaps hands, as they are all shaped as grasping claws, the better to wield the entire arsenal that festoons the entire length of the creature’s body. The demonic centipede lifts one end up into the air, curling around to reveal a face there, that splits into a vile grin.

“Ah! You must be Ander! I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Yvonne, the Crimson Arsenal, and I have been waiting to find a human worthy to kill for a long time!”

Yvonne hefts the massive weapon several of her legarms are currently cradling - what seems to be a discarded cannon from the Gastly Truth – and levels it at Ysora.

“The archangel, however, can stay out of this!”

A brilliant beam of light lances out from the barrel of the massive cannon, causing Yvonne to stagger back and momentarily blinding you. Ysora, still concentrating on maintaining the barrier that is keeping Quietus steadily more contained, is unable to dodge in time and takes the blast in the shoulder. She screams and goes down, the barrier instantly vanishing and allowing Quietus to twirl back up into the air – where he stays, in the far upper back corner of the room away from you, suddenly not so eager to try and claim his revenge.

“Mmm, a most impressive weapon, if rather cumbersome and distasteful. I much prefer my array of blades – a duel is so much more satisfying. But Daz’kick, while unable to be here himself, wanted to make sure that we were well-equipped to deal with the likes of you!”

Yvonne turned her attention up to the ceiling where Quietus was still cowering.

“Speaking of which, don’t you have something to contribute as well, you cowardly little rodent?”

“Oh yeah! NanananananaHAHAHAHAH!”

Quietus shrieks, his nature ensuring that you can’t see exactly what he is doing, but suddenly instead of mere debris within the tornado droplets of water start to appear. More importantly, droplets of water start to come flying out of the tornado, forming a foul mist that fills the room. You don’t feel much of anything when the droplets strike you, except your divine power starts to fade. Ysora, on the other hand, moans as her skin begins to blister and smoke. Clearly unholy water, and its presence was going to make this coming fight a lot more difficult.

A lot more difficult, as suddenly another angel plummets down through the sunroof. Only this one lands on its feet, crouching in a feral manner before twisting its head up to look at you. Pus oozes from its mouth and nostrils, and its eyes are frozen wide in shivering terror.

“Ah. So this is Ander? Pah, he is only a mere human! The two of you can have him – I want the archangel! Let us see how long she can endure as my host before she begs for the sweet release of death!”

The possessed angel gurgles, and you suspect this is Anguish, another Fiend Lord. Making the total present here now at least three, although that mental count shifts up to four as the room suddenly darkens. The sun itself is being shadowed by an eclipse, and as the brilliant golden orb begins to disappear you hear a voice come hissing from all around the city.

“Gaze upon the loss of your precious sun and despair, mortals! Now is the hour of night, of chaos, of death! The Fiend Lords have returned to this city not as its prisoners, but its conquerors! Surrender yourselves to the power of the Hells now, or we will tear apart the Heavens themselves to claim you!”

Behind you, Ysora pushes herself up to her feet with a groan. Her shoulder is a charred mess, the arm still attached but hanging lifeless at her side. The unholy mist was doubtless making it difficult for her to regenerate, although you could see the flesh there struggling to knit itself back together. She looks at the three assembled Fiend Lords gathered before you and shakes her head.

“Perhaps it is time for a tactical retreat? We seem to be outnumbered and unprepared for a united group of Fiend Lords. I have not seen them fight side-by-side since the defeat of their Master. One would question who is pulling their strings together.”

Ysora says, moving up to stand beside you despite her injury. The Fiend Lords bristle in response to her insinuation.

“No one is making us work together! Nihilus has simply made us understand the benefits of temporary cooperation!”

Quietus howls in response, and Yvonne grimaces.

“Quiet, you idiot! Stop talking and start killing!”

Yvonne growls, swinging her weapon up to fire uselessly into the tornado of movement that is Quietus. The blast destroys part of the ceiling, leaving it dangerously unstable given the already significant damage to the room. Yvonne’s appropriate cannon also gives a pitiful whine, prompting her face to split into a grin as she slings the weapon onto her back and begins drawing a thicket of weapons, each one slightly different.

“Ah, I was wondering when it was going to stop working! Now, we can move on to the more pleasurable means of battle!”

With a joint roar, the three Fiend Lords present rush towards you and Ysora. You could stay and try to fight, while Glurdalak and any other Fiend Lords present now ran rampant through your city, or you could attempt to retreat and regroup in the face of this unexpected development. Nihilus was responsible for this? He had never been anything more than a legend in your experience, and nothing you had ever seen save for a few deluded fiends had convinced you he was anything more. But you hadn’t known Azguloth Himself was imprisoned beneath Ironheart until you had stumbled over Him, either, so perhaps the legend was coming to life now. That did not bode well either.


The Past Age

WhiteKnight777

“Right, and we can’t assume that what worked previously will work this time. Marialta is from your time, and so while she may not know the exact specifics of all the defenses, she will know of their existence. She is likely plotting up ways of circumventing them now. We should probably just assume that she has access to her own key by this point. She’ll likely go after her sister’s key next, so we should probably start there. Besides, I have special access to her, given that I was the one who arranged for her meeting with the Hierarch. I was here in sort of a discrete advisory position – so discrete, in fact, that she never told you apparently. Makes you wonder what else she never told you about, doesn’t it?”

Nihilus chuckles to himself as he turns away from you and approaches not the door, but the back wall of your cell. He traces his fingers over the stone, and then rakes his fingers down the wall. Rather than triggering some sort of secret door, however, he seems to tear some sort of shimmering portal in reality! As casually as a hunter cleaning game, Nihilus inserts his hand into the wound, tugging it further open and moving to stand aside and allow you access.

“I figured we would take the faster and less inconspicuous route, and simply portal directly to Fianna’s bedroom rather than walk through the halls. Oh, of course it’s warded, but I can take care of that easily enough – here, take my hand.”

Nihilus holds out a gloved hand, and as you place your fingers into his you feel a small jolt of magic race over you.

“We are now invisible to all senses both mundane and magical. Well, I am, and you are as well for as long as we maintain contact. Now then, shall we go play voyeur? Although I believe it’s not for another hour or two before you and Fianna emerge from your little play area for . . . round two?”

Together with Nihilus, you step through the portal, and emerge into Fianna’s room as promised. It was as messy and disorganized as you remember it – articles of clothing and other, more exotic items scattered about haphazardly all over the floor, bed, and dresser. You had always wondered about how such an elegant and brilliant creature as Fianna could live in such a mess, and yet she had always just given a little knowing smile when asked about it. You suspected that things were not nearly as chaotic as they seemed, for Fianna always knew exactly where the object she wanted was in the mire, and disorganization was always a good way to hide a cleverly concealed trap.

The room was in an even messier state than usual, and it was not hard to see why. Hip-deep in one of the closets was a slave girl, one of the previously insignificant drones who made sure your joint palace was keep clean and well-stocked. Of course you had vetted such people carefully, using a mixture of worship and magic to make sure that they remained loyal – but then no one had intended on future versions of yourselves coming back to possess them, either. Perhaps you should recommend that to Nihilus to suggest to Fianna the next go around, just to make things easier on your next self, or whatever. My, but the twisty things that time travel did to the mind!

As you and Nihilus step into the room, the slave girl wiggles carefully back out of the closet, studiously avoiding touching the door jam. Cradled in her arms is a small jewelry box, which the slave girl examines with a smile for a moment before looking up – directly at you and Nihilus.

“So you’ve come, Writer. I was wondering if your aid was genuine, or merely another twisted strand in the web you call History.”

“That’s the trouble with pre-cognition, isn’t it? You can never hide from them because they already know you’re coming.”

Nihilus says with a sigh, and then the evidentially Marialta-possessed slave girl screams and throws the jewelry box at an artfully spread cloak on the floor. The jewelry box hits square in the middle of the cloak, shattering open, and throwing the entire room into bedlam. Immediately almost every single thing in the room – clothing, furniture, objects – comes to violent life. The jewelry box, meanwhile, merely quivers, already too broken to participate, leaving a handful of gems to be scattered across the floor as the cloak writhes up like a snake. One of them resembles a piece of amber, enclosed around what looks like . . . a small key.

“Ah, you are too predictable, my dear sister!”

The slave girl chortles as she dives across the room, seeking to enclose her hand around the false gem. Abandoning you, Nihilus blinks out of existence, and must have come back somewhere near Marialta, as the gem suddenly flies up into the air. Marialta laughs as she catches a book that is flapping down through the air towards her head and swings it around, batting the gem back down out of the air an instant after it has left the floor.

“Did you really think that was going to work against someone who has seen everything!?”

Meanwhile, you have troubles of your own. Abandoned by Nihilus, who seems to still be invisible to everyone but Marialta, you have now become visible. And thus, you are a valid target by the angered room. A clothing rack descends on you from behind, its tines trying to wrap around your arms and legs to hold your immobile, while the cloak previously thrown haphazardly on it wraps around your neck like a noose. But Fianna’s defenses are not entirely non-lethal, as a dagger swishes through the air towards you, diving down towards your eye.