Eragon the Lynching II: The First Age

[darkblade]

Eddie Riggs

"No problem man. I couldn't just leave you to die out here." Eddie says "Even with your questionable taste in music."

"We got to get a move on Eddie." The Killmaster mutters, "Knowing Magnus there will be no water left on the bus if we don't hurry back."

"Yeah, we're going." Eddie says before turning back to the eyeless man. "We'll give you a ride into the closest town Mr. uh I don't think I got your name."

[industrious]

Eddie

"It's Sloan. Thank you." The not-sobbing continues, and the man needs to be guided back to to the bus. The advance company meets with the rest of the army, awaiting Eddie's instructions.

Tower of Ghenji

"You know nothing; you are ours. The world that you came from is ours, created from nothing. You are nothing. Your hound is nothing. We are the Aelfinn. And you exist because we willed it." All this is said in a cold and dispassionate hiss.

The Forth Age

The dreams came once more. As the king slept, guarded by retainers and bodyguards, his body twitched as the dream overtook him. Once more was he on his throne. Once more was he on the headman's block. Once more was Tommen wielding the axe. Then as his head turned towards the sky, his spirit fled. Fled through the palace. Fled to a forgotten sub-basement. Fled to hover before a twisted stone archway. Fled to find the power in death that he did not have in life. Too late.

The king lay sleepless in his bed, a prisoner of his dreams.

[The Tygre]

Quenthel sneers, "That is for me to decide, not you, Gromph. You would do well to remember that we lie in Her web by Her grace, from now on. Regardless, what is this news? How has the flow of magic changed?"

There's nothing unusual in neither of Quenthel's siblings distrusting her. She was always strange, even as a child. When Drizzt killed her and she was resurrected, she came back stranger. And her latest foray into the Demonweb Pits has left her even more off. Neither Triel nor Gromph would be surprised if tomorrow Quenthel said that every slave in the city must be killed for Lolth. As such, many of the deals made by the two siblings have been made out of a cautious fear that Quenthel is a loose cannon ready to burst at any moment. The concern lies in whether or not Quenthel really has the power that she believes she does.

[nanobot_swarm]

"Well then I thank you for allowing me to exist, and since it appears I don't have much of an alternate choice, I shall comply. Come Enkidu, let us go and see what lies beyond this door."
With that he enters the doorway to see what lies beyond.

[industrious]

The Underdark

"Where before magic has been ordered and contained, now it is...more wild. Primal. And-it is tiring. Far more so than normal. I believe that it is a trick by the surface elves." Face twisting in hatred at the mention of their aboveground cousins, the archmage speaks no more.

Triel continues smoothly where he left off. "I think a raid is in order. And that because we failed to tell you of the problem earlier, you should have the honor of discovering the cause-and the solution of this problem."

nano:

Spoiler

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Sorry if I'm being harsh about it. The 'Finn aren't renowned for their patience/hospitality. Insulting them is leads to torture and getting worn as harnesses.

Tower of Ghenji

It was another round room, with spiraling floor tiles in red and white under a domed ceiling. It had no columns, or furnishings of any kind, except for three thick, coiled pedestals around the heart of the floor’s spirals. There was no way to reach the top of them except by climbing the twists, yet a man like his guide sat cross-legged atop each, only wrapped in layers of red. Not all men; two of those long faces with the odd eyes had a definite feminine cast. They stared at him, intense penetrating stares, and breathed deeply, almost panting. He wondered if he made them nervous in some way.

“It has been long,” the woman on the right said.

“Very long,” the woman on the left added.

The man nodded. “Yet they come again.”

All three had the breathy voice of the guide — almost indistinguishable from it, in fact — and the harsh way of pronouncing words. They spoke in unison, and the words might as well have come from one mouth. “Enter and ask, according to the agreement of old.”

[darkblade]

Eddie Riggs

"Okay Sloan. Just to be sure this doesn't happen to you again which direction would be safer from Eragon? We'll leave you there." Eddie explains.

[The Tygre]

What's the motivation here? Are they trying to throw her off? Are they trying get her killed? Or do they honestly count on Quenthel to solve this problem? Either way, it does not matter. Quenthel must begrudgingly admit that their goals convene. Cautiously, the high priestess nods, "Agreed, on the condition that I choose the members of the squad myself. I have no use for a nest of mewling pup soldiers and half-witted apprentices that you want out of your hair."

[industrious]

The Hadrac

"There's nowhere he will not go. He goes wherever he wishes, atop the back of his Dragon." He's starting to sound panicked again.

The Underdark

A moment's pause. A slight amount of irritation. "Agreed."

[darkblade]

Eddie Riggs

"Okay then, we'll have to take dragon boy down fast." Eddie guides Sloan into the passenger seat of the Druid Plow.

"Alright guys. We are going to ride west until we find civilization. By the time we get that far I'll have a plan on how to find and take down Eragon." Eddie explains to his troops.

"Uh Eddie? Shouldn't we focus on getting back home?" Magnus always the voice of reason asks.

"Taking down Eragon is part of that. He has the kind of magic to do that to Sloan he has magic that can send us home." Eddie adds.

With that they all get ready to roll.

Eddie turns to Sloan as he gets into his car. "Okay dude. Time to get serious. What did you do to Eragon to make him curse you like that?"

[nanobot_swarm]

"Very well,since I don't seem to have much choice, I shall ask all at once:
Who are you?
What do you want from me?
How can I leave the void?"

[The Tygre]

The ability to choose her own squad give Quenthel a modicum of control. Without losing resolve, Quenthel inquires, "Then I will be quick. Aside from the disruption of magic, is anything else known about this disruption?"

[industrious]

The Hadrac

"My village was besieged by soldiers; Eragon's brother was resisting their authority. They came to me, and promised that my daughter's life would be spared if I allowed them to enter. I...did as they asked. My daughter was thrown in the dungeons, and myself, with her. The Empire tore out my eyes. Eragon forced the compulsion on me. And he swore that I would never come into the presence of my daughter again."

Tower Of Ghenji

"We are the Aelfinn. And we want from you what we want of any who comes into our realm. Much of it is already ours. And you are not in the Void. Not anymore." The triad raises their hands, and Gilgamesh finds himself on the shores of a river. Behind him, a symbol of an equilateral triangle bisected by a curving line shimmers, and vanishes.

And at his feet lies a curled golden horn, with silver script round its rim.

"Tia mi aven Moridin isainde vadin"

ooc

Spoiler

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Location Change: Outskirts of Terim

The Underdark

"Nothing as of yet. We are depending on you, sister. Do not fail our people." The crystal ball turns opaque once more.

[darkblade]

Eddie

The veichles all move forward across the sun scortched desert. Eddie keeps grilling Sloan.

"Thats rough. Sounds like you got yourself a nasty little Civil War and neither side has a moral high ground. Do you know what happened to your daughter?"

[industrious]

The Hadrac

"She's wed to his brother now; Eragon told me that much. She's married, and I wasn't there. I don't care about morals, really. Don't cheat your customers, and don't suffer fools is all I ever really needed. But she...she was the light in my day. Her mother died giving birth, and I raised her from a babe. She made me feel better about myself. Made me feel as if there was something better."

[The Tygre]

Quenthel returns to her meditation. There is a rite to undertake before such an expedition. The priestess does not lapse into a deep trance, but merely prays; "Lolth, Mother of Spiders, Queen of the Demonweb Pits, Mother and Mistress of All, Bitch Queen of Demons, hear the plea of your servant. I step now into the barbarian wilds of the world, step once more into the cruel places where your touch does not reach. The unworthy, the sick, the corrupted; they plague me on all sides. But I ask of you, my Lady, my Mistress and my Queen; by what do you guide me? Do I go, bare save for my sacred vestments? Do I go rich or do I go poor? And most importantly, my beloved and all strengthening Queen, do I go with your blessing?"

Quenthel keeps her mind and ears open, vigilant for a sign from the Mother of Spiders.

[industrious]

The Underdark

A fly buzzes on the wall opposite Quenthel. Over and over it rises, then lands, hopping from place to place on the smooth stone. It stops, caught in a finely woven net, and is devoured. From its hiding place in the shadows, a spider stares at Quenthel, eyes glimmering. Two eyes looking into the creature's eight, she can almost hear something. One. And then, there was silence.

[darkblade]

Eddie

Eddie and crew keep on driving hopefully reaching the end of the desert soon.

"Eragon's brother? Is he with his brother or the Empire?"

[The Tygre]

It comes to Quenthel, the message. She understands now. Weaklings were what was holding her back, what have always been holding her back. She dragged allies into the Spiderweb Pits and was met with failure time and again. No, no squad. No soldiers or mages whispering back to Gromph. This is her own duty.

Quenthel gets up and heads for the temple's chambers. The vast, spider-shaped cathedral is a labyrinth of halls and rooms. As Quenthel moves forward, set on the vault, a wake of fear precedes and proceeds her. Students eyes widen to see their mistress out, slaves cower into their shadows, and even senior priestesses stay out of the way and whisper to themselves. She's always seemed more insane than usual since the Demonweb Pits. No one really knows what happened; almost all of her companions died except for a lone mercenary, and he hides in the wilderness out of fear, or so they say. Rumor and gossip surround Quenthel's absence; some say that Lolth abandoned her, others that she abandoned Lolth. Some say that Quenthel was the single-handed cause for the entire Silence of Lolth. The events leading up to Quenthel's absence are well known; what isn't known is exactly what happened away, or on the High Priestess's arrival. Gossip-mongers whisper that she summoned an avatar of Lolth and keeps it under the school, feeding it weak priestesses and slaves. Others say that's she's on her way to demi-godhood, if not one already. Even more lurid tales say she came back heavy with a yolchol child by the Spider Queen herself. Regardless of the story, Quenthel is here now, and she's out for blood.

She enters the vault with ease, even the wards and guardians seeming to fear retribution from the voice of Lolth. Without even looking, she starts stuffing magic items and trinkets into her pack. She hardly pays attention to the contents, and only keeps an eye out for a few distinct items. A cloak of Arachnadia to match her already enchanted house crest. A ring of detect magic and another of prestidigitation for general use. Crucially, she tenderly gathers a scroll of planar binding. The only other requirements are several (6) healing potions. After that, Quenthel does not know or care what has gone into the bag. Cursed, blessed, holy, unholy; it matters little. There's no time. The Spider Queen has given her mission and she must fulfill it.

Quenthel makes one last trip to her chambers. She settles down and begins to chant, praying, reciting off the scroll of planar binding. She calls out to a presence beyond the void, a demon. She reaches out until finally, a presence arrives. A pillar of twisting flesh and mouths with a single red eye stares hatefully at Quenthel, stretching a waving its pseudopods to and fro. Quenthel does not flinch; she has seen, killed, and summoned far worse than a yolchol before. Now it is time to make her bargain with the creature. In a voice of authority, Quenthel orders the Handmaiden of Lolth, "Speak, demon, before I send you back to your black pits."

[industrious]

The Underdark

By Lolth's decree, a yochlol must serve its summoner faithfully for one single deed. Appearance shimmering, this particular demon turns itself into an exact replica of Quenthal herself, mimicking form and pose exactly.

"What is thy bidding, priestess of Lolth?" It was unnerving, to have her own voice repeated to her. Yet she knew that the demon only needed to grant one request; ordering it to change form would accomplish nothing.

The Hadrac

"He is with his brother. Or so I believe, at least."

[The Tygre]

Quenthel keeps an iron gaze on her own form, trying to remind herself that it's just a demon. Seeing herself... it's discomforting. She only keeps mirrors in her room if they're magic. But this is what the demon wants; weakness. And Quenthel will not yield as she orders, "My favor is a simple one. You've already accomplished half of it by stealing my shape. Finish the job and your rewards will be great. Fail, and your suffering immense, even for a demon. You are to take a squad of soldiers, priestesses, slaves, and even a mage if you so desire, and leave the city. What you do with them in the wilds is your choice. Devour them. Kill them. Torture them. Enslave them. Charm them. Do as you wish. All that is important is that you are seen in my shape leaving the city with the legion. You may very well depart for the Abyss and abandon them to the wilds if you so wish. But there are two important details; let no one know your true nature. Not Master Gromph, Matron Triel, or any other. And do not make my task any more difficult. Is this understood?"

[industrious]

"I hear and obey, priestess of Lolth." The doppelganger looks...excited at the prospect. "Shall I begin now, or shall I wait inside the circle until needed?"

[The Tygre]

Quenthel is a little off-put by the demon's enthusiasm. But there is no time to waste; "Begin as quickly as possible. I will sneak out of the city under my own disguises."

[industrious]

The Underdark

"As you wish." Leaving the chamber, "Quenthal" begins heading for the barracks. The demon is an exact mimic of the priestess; or at least, nobody screams "Doppelganger" as it walks the streets of Menzoberranzan. The way is clear.

[darkblade]

Eddie

"Will Eragon know that his curse was broken and would he know where you are if he can?"

[industrious]

The Hadrac

Sloan's brow creases. "I...don't know. I don't know."

Spoiler

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Which direction are you going, again?

[darkblade]

Eddie

The motorized viechles continue to drive west.

"Okay, we're going to set you up in an inn in town and leave some guys to look out for you while the rest of us hunt down Eragon."

[nanobot_swarm]

Gilgamesh picks up the horn and shrugs, thinking about the odd encounter with the snake-men-things. He motions Enkidu to follow him, and then begins to wander around looking for something exciting to happen, or a warrior he could challange.

[The Tygre]

There is much to do. Quenthel does not know the exact location of the disturbance, but that is a moot point; Lolth will show her the way. Quenthel grabs one last item; her beloved viper whip. The vipers writhe and coil around her hand in joy and anticipation;

"That was so clever of the mistress!"

"Is she sure that it is wise to trust the demon?"

"We are the only ones the Mistress can trust!"

"And we will be repayed in blood!"

"Oh, so much blood!"

Quenthel listens to the bound imps' idle chatting and praise. There is little in this world that Quenthel has affection for, and her whip is one of those few things. It was given to her upon her graduation to senior priestess, and it had never left her side. She slowly added more serpents until they numbered five. With a telepathic flick, she ordered their silence, and they responded. She searched the bag of goods she had brought along until she found what she was looking for; a scroll of illusions. It was weak; it would only be able to disguise her for an hour, and even the lowest Apprentice would have little trouble seeing past the mask. But it was all she had.

Reading the scrap of paper, Quenthel felt a wave of arcane energy lapse over her. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw the form of an entirely new drow; a petty noble from the clothing. But even the experienced priestess could see her vague outline behind the figure. It would have to do.

Quenthel stepped outside, and slipped between the rows and columns of Arach-Tinilith. It disgusted her to be crawling like a common thief in her own home, but it was necessary. Finally, Quenthel found what she had been looking for; a secret door that led out to the streets. The Baenre skulked through a dank tunnel that stank of mildew, still paranoid of pursuit. At last, the dim glow of magic lamps and fluorescent fungi seeped through a closed door. Quenthel slipped out of the tunnel. The priestess found herself in the garden of some abandoned minor house, even it's walls collapsed. She nudged through a crack and found herself on the streets of Menzoberanazzan. Making haste, Quenthel walked the streets, headed for the nearest exit out of the city.

[industrious]

Uru-Baen

The westward army eventually reaches the end of the desert, the dry sand turning swiftly to grassy plains. An unusual geography, to be sure. But Eddie and his army have little worry for such things at the moment. Of far greater importance is the detachment of horse-mounted troops galloping towards the caravan.

"Halt, in the name of the King!"

Sloan whimpers.

Teirm

The familiar rasp of steel sliding from its sheath comes from behind. Gilgamesh can feel the blade at his back, its tip resting at one of his armors seams.

"In the name of the King, all suspicious persons are to be arrested without bail, and held in custody until war's end. Place your hands on your head..." The voice is gravelly, and precise, speaking the words with the ease of routine. At least, until the man spots the horn Gilgamesh wears on his belt.

"Give the horn to me. Slowly." His words are spoken tersely, with the caution one would use when approaching a wild animal.

Ellesmera, Outskirts

The Underdark used to have many entrances and exits to the world above. Trying several of them, Quenthal finds that the land above has shifted in the Drow's absence; blocked off, she continues to search for a way out. Eventually, she finds one.

The hollowed-out tree deposited her into a forest glen, its canopy enough to keep the harsh light of the afternoon sun from blinding her. Crumbling stone walls indicate the place was once significant, but the floor is more grass and dirt than stone, and there are trees in what would have once been "inside." Looking around, she eventually sees why. Stubbing her toe on what had seemed to be an unusually warm stone, the priestess finds an old, rusted medallion, bearing the hated symbol of Eilistraee. As she picks it up, it crumbles into dust; there is no power here.

[nanobot_swarm]

"Suspicious? So quick to judge, a shame really, when the world goes mad during war. Any man would be quick to be deemed suspicious. Honestly you should put that sword away, you could never defeat me in a fight with it. Enkidu, get him off me."
At that point the man is tackled by a large green wolf.