The Party is restless. Glog, Thivinen, Perra, Ashe, and Roland sit at a table in one of the hundreds of rooms of the interdimensional way station called the Nexus.
To pass the time, the Party engages in one of its favorite pastimes, picking on one another. Since passing through the Circle of Stones, the Party spends its time training, poring over the prophetic poem – Thivinen calls it “the PP” as much to annoy Glog as to act as a shorthand, and waiting. They all spend a lot of time waiting. Ashe pretends to be a statue deliberately in Roland’s field of vision, and Roland feigns disinterest while he sharpens the Life Sword for the fifth time today. For the third time in the past hour, Perra asks, “Glog, are you sure this is the right place to be? How do you know?”
Glog starts to answer with a well-worn, sarcastic response, and then abruptly turns to the door … someone, some pair, opens the door, looks around, and strides directly toward the Party.
No one at the Nexus was normal in a way that felt natural and safe to Glog. Still, this pair gives off an odd aura even for this place. As one, the rest of the Party members turn to face the approaching pair.
The one in the lead wears a black cloak over Runic, black iron plate mail, and he sports an iron crown that appears both ceremonial and deadly practical. Emblazed on his breast plate is a large, stylized, red handprint. He appears to be tall for a human – about the same stature as Roland. The black clad stranger has an air of nobility in his posture, in his movement, and he strides towards the Party with a confident gait.
Immediately to his left is a shorter gentleman – also apparently human. This one wears a silvery, form fitting outfit. His face is lined with crevices and wrinkles that make it appear to be the map of a rich, broad, river delta made of deeply tanned skin. All except for the area surrounding his left eye. Here the skin is several shades paler, and the skin as smooth as a child’s cheek. The eye in this contrasting area appears to be made of some flat gemstone that seems to be embedded in the man’s eye socket and reach far into his skull. At random moments, the gem winks with red flashes from deep inside. On his brow rests a circlet of Runic silver inscribed with the Mastery Rune in bas relief. “A psyker!” Ashe announces to the group.
In the Nexus, you could not be too cautious. Glog was not expecting trouble, but he was not unprepared either.
Glog signs for the Party to be at the ready. The Party members shift slightly. To the uninitiated, the slight movements might appear to be random or just stiff and bored people stretching tired and numb muscles, but after a moment each of the Party members had a direct line of sight to the pair approaching.
Ashe remarks in low tones to Glog, but loud enough for the pair to hear him, “do you suppose these are our guides?”
The pair stops just outside of sword thrust range, and the man clad in silver says, “I am Branham, and this is Phineas the Black, dread King of Nerria, and foe to Halflings everywhere!”
Branham chuckles as Phineas wheels on him saying, “very funny. You know that is unlikely to make a good impression on them? Plus, you do that just to annoy me.”
Before Glog can react, Thivinen states, “we have our own reasons to distrust Halflings, the devil infested plague that they are.”
Phineas smiles and nods approvingly. He states, “Cragspider seems to have sent a smart as well as doughty band of adventurers this time around. Well mete adventurers! Branham here will be your guide to the portal you seek. He will go no further though. Our instructions from the Mother of Gods were quite explicit.”
Perra noted, “why are we always given the dangerous missions? If Cragspider is so tough, why can’t she do this herself?”
Ashe appears thoughtful for a moment and says, “I’ve spent a lot of time studying Zhalindorian history, and they might appear tough – well, ugly and grizzled in Cragspider’s case, but those immortals are less resilient than they might seem.”
Branham chuckled again and then noted, “you appear to be wearing iron rings. Were you given those by Carastinian the Arch-mage?” As Branham gestures, the Party notes that both Phineas and Branham are wearing iron rings with four marks each.
Roland states, “yes, we rescued the Tien from a particularly pernicious menace calling himself ‘Brother Abel.’”
“What would we expect from a priest of the Church of Light and Dark?” Ashe interjects, and then quietly adds, “racist, genocidal bastards.”
Branham and Phineas pause for a moment, look at one another, and Phineas says, “well, we had our interactions with the Timerian elites over time too, but everyone has their place. Everyone – well, perhaps with the exception of Halflings. Errrr, um, *cough* *cough*.”
Perra asks, “where are we going exactly?”
Branham says, “best to show you. The Nexus exists in a timeless state, but I’ve found it best to be as efficient as possible in dealing with the mysteries of the astral plane and the multi-verse.”
Roland stares at Phineas’ cloak for a moment and says, “I recognize Humakt’s Runes, but what is that one?” Roland points to a large Rune that appears much like a Greek capital omega character.
Phineas replies, “Ah! That is the Last Rune also known as the Good Rune. I actually quested to create it. You see it always bothered me that there was an Evil Rune – the Rune of True Mastery, but there was no …”
Branham visibly and dramatically rolls his eyes, and interjects, “not now oh Halfling Bane!”
Glog moves his way forward during the exchange to stand directly in front of Phineas. Glog holds out his hand and states, “I am the Party Leader, Glog, and I offer you are most gracious thanks for aiding us in this critical quest for Cragspider, Mango the Mad, and the Creator.” Thivinen snorts and says, “well, we’ll humor Glog today.”
Phineas says, “you’re a Party leader too. *sigh* Does your group treat you as poorly as my group does?”
Branham grunts loudly and replies, “Phineas, we have been with you through thick and thin, and even now we are enroute to the final battle to fight alongside you. What more proof do you need of our affection for you and trust in you?”
Phineas says, “after 10,000 years, it is good to hear,” and Branham and Phineas both laugh at this.
“Come now,” Phineas says, and Branham and Phineas lead the group out of the room into the labyrinthian halls of the Nexus.
As they walk, Perra asks, “Branham, why were you selected as our guide by Cragspider?”
Phineas answers for Branham, saying, “we’re never exactly sure why our Party was picked for any particular tasks, but Branham is not originally from Zhalindor. He came to us during a quest that took us to the Nexus and beyond.”
“Thanks for that,” Branham retorts, “because I am incapable of answering for myself oh Halfling Terror!”
Phinease subsides, and Branham continues, “my original home was in a nearly boundless universe that was dominated by science, technology, and psionics in a contrast to Zhalindor, which is very small and dominated by magic.”
Ashe puts his hand into a belt pouch and then asks, “what psionic disciplines do you practice? Could you teach me Branham?”
+Hello Bert+ Branham sends out a mental note to Bert and Ashe.
+Do I know you?+ Bert asks.
+Not yet, but you will+ Branham replies both mentally and out loud.
Phineas says, “it is best to do as little as possible to disrupt the time stream. At the best, you end up with Serpent Tongue, and at worst, you cease to exist.”
“On that, I could not agree with you more,” Branham says.
+There really is not time now, but you are going to a place that is rich in psionics. Perhaps you will be able to learn some new talents there. I really don’t know.+ Branham sends to Bert and Ashe.
“The universe you are heading to is dominated by four great spirits of immense power and related to what we in Zhalindor refer to as the Void,” Branham says to Perra.
The Party, Branham, and Phineas round a corner and see a tall elf standing in a doorway. He wears Runic copper armor inscribed with the Runes of Aldrya. Roland, Ashe, and Thivinen immediately recognize him as a very powerful Wood Lord.
The elf bows slightly and says, “I am Tremir, one of King Phineas’ dukes and the leader of the elves in Nerria.”
Glog offers his hand, and Tremir shakes Glog’s hand warmly. Tremir smiles, and the Party noticeably relaxes in Tremir’s presence.
“How do you do that?” Branham asks.
“Do what?” Tremir asks.
“You know very well what!” Branham snaps.
Tremir pointedly ignores Branham’s jibe and says, “I see that you are carrying the Life Sword and the Fire Sword. That is amazing! Do you know how to use them both?”
Glog, Thivinen, and Roland discuss the powers, desires, uses, and abuses of the Rune Swords with Tremir who fills in what he knows. It is clear that Tremir and his band have wielded these and other Runes before.
After a time, Tremir states, “we could talk about all these things for seasons, but that would not speed you in accomplishing your quest.” Tremir leads the group into the long, narrow room he was standing outside.
Phineas says, “not everyone wants your mission to succeed, I will stand guard outside the room to help ensure that you are able to reach your destination. May the Creator and Humakt bless your mission!” Phineas steps outside the door and shuts it behind him.
At the far end of the room, an archway of stones shows a mist that is lit from within by a faltering yellow light. Three gems mark the middle left, the top, and the middle right blink with a low yellow light respectively.
“Not one of these,” Branham states dejectedly.
“You squeal like a mule, yet you live,” Tremir states.
“Yes, and I want to continue squealing,” Branham states.
“Time to get moving Branham,” Tremir says. “I’ll be right here to guide you back.”
“It is flashing yellow – you do know what that means right?” Branham asks.
Tremir looks firmly at Branham and says, “this is really helping their Party, right?”
Branham looks away, and Tremir says, “there is what appears to be an elf called ‘Ammon-Sul’ at the other end of the portal. I cannot enter it, but Branham will take you in. Ammon-Sul will guide you initially on the other side.”
Branham states, “what I do know about the place you are heading is that there are tens of thousands of worlds at war. The humans are apparently taking on everyone else, and they don’t like the other races. Ammon-Sul would not be popular on a human world. The humans travel between the worlds in giant, enclosed metal ships the size of Zhalindorian cities. Ammon-Sul will have to fill you in on the rest.”
Tremir and Branham each touch the stones in a sequence while Branham lightly brushes his circlet. The circlet flairs with a blue, electric light, and the mist parts in the portal to reveal a corridor.
Branham waves the Party forward and ducks in.
The Party follows led by Glog and Roland. Ashe and Perra take the middle while Thivinen brings up the rear. As the rest of the Party disappears into the portal, Thivinen turns to Tremir and says, “what is so special about the place we’re going? Why us?”
Tremir thinks for a moment and replies, “I could speculate, but Phineas, Branham, and the rest of our group traveled in time and between places and universes on several occasions. I don’t want to disrupt the time line, because Cragspider has told us that you came before us in Zhalindor’s history, but it is fair to say that Zhalindor is the special place. Grandfather Mortal came to Zhalindor. The Old Ones, not just the shadows of, but the actual universe stomping, all-life-devouring Old Ones came to Zhalindor. Why? I could not tell you, but Cragspider and the Creator would not send you to this place if it was not important.”
“Interesting,” Thivinen mused, “but that is not really an answer at all.”
“I might not have one, but I do have some advice,” Tremir added. “These voyages are always fraught with danger, and there are often subtleties that you don’t see at the time.”
“Subtleties?”
“Yes, like the one time that Phineas and I were responsible for the deaths of 10 billion elves, because we were not paying attention to what we were doing.”
“Ten billion?” Thivinen says as he sways slightly.
“Help keep them focused, and support Glog. It is obvious to me that he has a good heart. Again, these missions are never as simple as they seem. The gods are relying on your discernment and judgement as much as on your mystic and martial prowess. Fair thee well Thivinen, Fire Lord, and Member of the Iron Ring!”
With that Thivinen follows into the portal.
* * *
The Party feels their bodies being simultaneously compressed and blown apart.
Nausea does not begin to describe their spinning vision and cramping stomachs.
The Party feels the malevolence of eyes burning into them, and each of the members perceives something – some “things” – both threatening and monstrous just on the other side of the too thin walls of the portal space.
Through it, Branham leads on until the Party reaches a glowing, sickly yellow portal that is a mirror of one in the Nexus.
Through the mists, the Party spies a medium, bi-pedal shaped shadow.
“Hellllooooooo, I ammmm Ammmooonnn Suuuuuul. You muuuustttttt come quickkkkkllllly. The portal is deteriooooor …”
“That is my cue,” Branham snaps, and he says “good luck” as he sprints back the other direction.
Glog and Roland shrug and boldly step through the mists followed by the rest of the Party.
* * *
The Party finds itself traveling along a rutted, trail between menhir that flank a large, crude stone archway that the Party emerges from. The menhir start at about 15’ in height, the same size as the archway, and run to around 3’ tall at the far end, some fifty yards. There is a sickly yellow grass that is sharp like thistles growing in a powdery greenish yellow earth. The sky overhead is a yellow fog that occasionally flashes with purple bolts of lightning. Perra and Ashe turn to see the mist rush into the center of the archway and melt away just as Thivinen steps through.
Suddenly, the portal and mist are gone, and the barren landscape of this place can be seen through the empty archway.
At the end of the path the Party is on, just beyond the 3’ tall menhir marking the end, a creature that appears to be an elf is gesturing for the Party to quickly come forward.
“Quickly, quickly! There is no time!” the elf states.
The Party picks up its pace, and as the Party passes through the space between the last two menhir, the whole area drops in temperature by 40 degrees, and the stones crack and splinter as though they aged dozens of millenia in seconds.
“Greetings! I am Ammon Sul. Welcome to the Imperium of Man!”
+No time for friendly chatter+ Bert emits +Hostiles closing quickly+
* * *
Let the games begin!
In service,
Rich