Gabe3e

~ Hammer 30, 1359DR
[Game of April 30th, 2005]

The Balor is slain, the party enters Jarl’s fortress.

Entry 49 (25 Hammer, 1359DR): Saving Face

Alas if there was only a way to AR a decision I made under duress. I can only blindly hope that one day I will again turn to write in this journal and see this entry and think back with a laugh. I will chuckle at my own naivete and recall the days when my soul was cursed and forever bound to Mephistopheles. “Ha!” I will laugh in spite of myself. “Remember how hopeless it looked? Thank goodness all is right again!” The thought of that reality, however unlikely, is all that brings me comfort in these days of woe and worry. I can only hope I remain alive long enough to see it. But with the task I have ahead of me, I suspect I will often be closer to death than I am to life.

But I digress. For my beloved spell has not, nor will it not, aid me there. Though it is this situation that did bring me to perhaps the most queer use of my spell to date. In traipsing through Hell and high water in pursuit of possessed Jarl, we were struck by a Balor with a most cursed sword, who, with one fell swoop of his blade, sliced the head clean off of poor Delven, Jarl’s half-brother. With no way to get to him in time and not daring to touch the Balor who dealt the killing blow, I was not able to alter that reality. We were forced to flee the Abyss without taking his body with us.

My party members asked me to use a wishing spell to ask his fingertip be returned to us from the abyss, in order that Rowen might reincarnate him. Though I used a ‘baby-brother’ version of this spell, it was none-the-less very draining to me, and I was appalled when my efforts yielded not a strong, formidable half-elven man, but a foul, scaly, verminous, mindless kobold!!

I wanted to save face—both mine and the pixie’s and, well, literally Delven’s. I reached out my hand to Rowen and altered reality. Before my eyes (and my eyes alone) I saw the lizardly snout mold into a humanesque face, the claws transform to stubby fingers, the tail retreat into stout legs. Delven was now…a gnome. I felt a surge of power to witness such a magnificent and permanent change from my own hand. Though it was not ideal, I had at least saved him from a more terrible fate, and though once again it went unappreciated, at least this time it was Rowen who was the recipient of Delven’s confused and annoyed glance.

~ Hammer 30, 1359DR
[Game of April 23th, 2005]

The party seeks entry into Jarl’s fortress, but is defeated by several mariliths and a balor.

~ Hammer 30, 1359DR
[Game of April 16th, 2005]

The party agrees to Mephostophele’s deal and gains passage through Hell, and to a portal leading to the Abyss. They arrive at the ruined city, with the portal leading to Waterdeep, and face off against mariliths and a jarlith.

They proceed to the ruined temple, where there is now a portal. They step through, and find themselves outside Jarl’s fortress.

The doors slam shut and the party realizes they are surrounded. About twenty of the castle guards descend on them, working in pairs to flank the party members.

Gwynn slides back and tries to seek out a bloodless resolution, as usual. “What is the meaning of this? We have done nothing but defend our lives. Stay your hands, or you will die.” She reaches back to her sword hilt and signs, “Subdue” and “Teleport?” to her companions.

The party is too heavily beset to gather around Lyta and Jaran for teleportation. Through ice, fire, an air elemental, and good old fashioned beating, all the attackers are dispatched, but two men and the captain, Azhaf.

The party may leave now, but they are desperate for answers. Gwynn asks Azhaf to explain himself again. In answer, he mutters, “They’re ready for you, my lords” and pounds on the door behind him three times.

The party realizes the true extent of the trap –the men were merely a sacrifice to weaken them– and prepare themselves for a second, more dangerous assault. Too soon, two cat-like mages appear. Anyone within twenty feet of the creatures suffers from sharp headaches. The pain distracts Gwynn and weakens her.

Remembering the Bast Sword’s geas, Lyta relays that the creatures are Rakashasa, evil beings from another plane. They are not true felines; the party is not handicapped in this fight. As the party focuses on this new evil, twenty more men enter from the rear of the room, employing the same tactics as their dead companions.

Kalcryx is caught in an Enervation spell by one of the cat creatures and is greatly weakened. Lyta is targetted with a Disintegration spell, but is not harmed by it. The captain of the guard rips Gwynn’s sword from her hands and cracks her buckler.

The captain, in turn, is weakened with an Enervation spell, and Rowan hits him with one of his pixie arrows and steals his memories. Lyta twists Nahal’s into a Firebrand spell, but the Weave protests and almost every enemy is stunned instead. The party is quick to take advantage of this serendipitous quirk of magic.

Rowan summons another elemental, and soon all the guards are lifted off their feet and deposited in a heap at the rear of the room. A magical Web ensures they won’t trouble the party for some time. Gwynn and G’kar try to convince the confused Azhaf to aid them as focus their attacks on the healthier, but stunned cat creature. It dies. Its companion, seeing it will soon follow, escapes.

At last, the battle is over, and their questions might be finally answered. The men know nothing, however; they are merely loyal guards following their captain’s orders. Kalcryx alone can restore Azhaf’s memory today, but he is too weak from the Enervation.

After many minutes of reasoning, threatening and praise, the party frees the bound men and convince Azhaf to return to “the keep” with them, where they will restore his memory. They teleport to Mosstone and make their way to the temple. Theodore restores Kalcryx while Gwynn prepares a room with a Zone of Truth spell. Azhaf is led in and healed, and as his memory returns to him, he draws his sword and attacks. He is subdued eventually and agrees that he will answer Gwynn’s question (”What is your complaint against my name?”) if they let him up. Rowan and Gwynn feel that he is speaking the truth, but are also suspicious that he has something planned.

Kalcryx, G’Kar, and Gwynn back away. Azhaf declares he attacked Gwynn and her companions because it was his lord’s will. “I live for my lord, and I will die for my lord!” he cries, and he plunges his sword into his own chest.

Gwynn is disturbed, but comforts herself that it is no great loss –the man was evil and he did not truly serve their queen. Perhaps his corpse will prove more cooperative.

The party is given rooms in the keep. Rowan stations himself in the hall outside. In the wee hours of night, Rowan is disturbed by the sound of another creature breathing in the hall. He opens his eyes and sees a great red creature with red batwings and horns that twist back from his forehead, perching on the lintels. As discomforting as this uninvited guest is, Rowan is more unnerved by the way its white, pupil-less eyes seem to peer directly at him.

Rowan conjures the image of a human exploding from one of the bed chambers, making an alarm. The party wakes.

The creature grins crookedly and raises one finger to his lips. “Shh…”

Jaran, Kalcryx, G’Kar and Lyta enter the hall. Hearing the conversation started, Gwynn opts to stay in her room for the moment.

The creature introduces himself as Mephistopheles, Lord of the Eighth. He proposes a deal: He would like the party to kill two uppity demon princes. One, Grazzit, upset the balance between Hell and the Abyss and promoted a human lieutenant. The human lieutenant upset things further by usurping Grazzit. In exchange, the party will be granted guaranteed safe passage through the first eight levels of Hell, for the rest of their lives. They will get to kill a demon prince, and they will get to free Jarl. All he asks is that the party bind themselves to his servitude until they complete the task, allowing him to place a curse on their souls.

Gwynn goes back to sleep. The party hedges and Mephistopheles disappears, leaving a full potion belt and the words, “Drink this when you are ready to meet me again.” The potions appear to be Heal potions, and nothing more.

In the morning, Theodore Sends to Zonas on Gywnn’s behalf. Both are disturbed when Zonas does not respond, and not particularly surprised when he cannot be found by scrying. It would seem Zonas is either dead or no longer on this plane. Gwynn prays for guidance, and receives discomforting words from Mystra.

Later in the morning, Azhaf’s corpse is questioned. The body reveals that in life it served Lord Grazzit since the Time of Troubles, in hopes of being awarded a lordship some day. Lord Grazzit wanted “the Athunsun” (and I need Z’s/Mran’s notes on the subject… =) ). It seems Zonas is connected with Mephistopheles’ bargain. Jaran speculates that perhaps this has something to do with the kanly Jarl declared against Zonas in his human life.

The party is uncertain what course to follow next, but they agree that they should at least inform the queen what has become of her captain of the guard and why. Perhaps they should also collect Zonas’s things from his room.

They teleport to Zazesspur and see the streets are teeming with soldiers. They are preparing for war, and will sail for Amn that day. The party goes to the castle, but are not allowed entry –no one, no exceptions, not even to tell the queen what has happened to Captain Azhaf, not even to collect Gwynn’s missing cousin’s personal affects.

“You are mistaken,” a higher-up tells her. “He left last night to clear the way to Amn.”

Meanwhile, the invisible pixie flies past the first guard and makes his way to the throne room. He knocks on the door and is asked to identify himself.

“Rowan of the Wealdath,” he says. “A friend of Lady Athunsun.”

“Is Lady Athunsun with you?” the voice asks.

Rowan explains that she is detained at the gate by bureaucracy. The door opens and he flies in. The door slams shut behind him, like the lid on a coffin, and the bolt is thrown.

15 Hammer 1359 DR

With the first rays of the sun, I reach the temple. My lord is dull-eyed and brother Theodore pauses in his preparations to blink at me slowly as I recount the visit of the Lord of the Eighth. He asks me to explain again.

I grow impatient. The devil lord does not concern me –I am Mystra’s, always and first. I will never bind my soul to his servitude, certainly not to interfere with the power struggles of the Abyss, so what can his bargain matter?

“We won’t get a clear account from her, now,” my lord says quietly.
(more…)