"As the storms of rage gather,
What hope is there for love?"
From 'Gathering Storms' by Harlequin, sung in the ‘Mountain Dwarf King’s Arse’ (a popular illegal drinking hole in Tumunzahar)“The Gods stand off, the Demigods interfere, and the mortals damn themselves.”
Words whispered in The Shell"'Demon Summoning' means participating (actively or constructively) in the Art of Magic-Using commonly known as Binding and/or receiving from Demons Delegated Powers or temporary advantages that are capable of being used in Duels. For the avoidance of doubt magic items owned on a permanent basis by the user are not of themselves 'temporary advantages'."
From Lord High Chancellor of Valdrea Kyarlin of Heaven's Act of Parliament for the Amendment of the Laws Pertaining to Demon Summoning, enacted 22 XIII 2503“We are witnessing Law without principles and slaughter for the sake of slaughter."
Darion to his Devils"O Evenstar, shine Your light upon the upturned faces of us poor sinners, as we pray for Your forgiveness. We have done that which we were compelled to do. But we knew in our hearts that it was wrong, and so we beg for Your understanding."
From the RAYLIT sermon of expiation, as pronounced by Eamli of the Keragund“The wind blows from the far-off sea,
The wind blows o’er lonely me,
And what once was fair and true,
Is lost as the sight of you.”
From a Song of the Lindar of the Lost Country
"DAELOTH's Tits!" swore Rakkar McYelleran, as he reined in his hippogriff and signalled to his remaining Children of AMON to call off the pursuit. The Men of WACON were outdistancing them on their swifter pegasi, and were now out of bow range. They would not catch them now this side of the Empire.
Ripper, his steed, let out an angry squawk at the juicy horseflesh disappearing into the clouds, and Rakkar's stomach rumbled in sympathy. There was precious little food left in the Badlands after a hard winter, which had followed on from the disastrous raid on Valdrea with McAndar and those so-called ChaosMasters. All that had bought them was the retaliatory strike by the Valdreans, which had destroyed most of the few stocks of food the women had gathered in whilst their menfolk were away dying in the wars. What stocks were left were gathered into the strongholds where the people had fled the winter's storms. And the strongholds were impregnable against attack by the hippogriff-riding Children of AMON. Rakkar had to admit that the Valdreans had done a good job in terrorising his people.
Spring came late in the Badlands but soon, he hoped, the farmers would be returning to their homesteads for lambing and checking on their crops. There would be some sport then. In the meantime, there was nothing for it but to have another go at Cleric-hunting.
Those do-gooder ESCUS-worshippers from the Kingdom of the North and the so-called Temple of Peace on Earth had come to the peasants' aid with their Cornucopiae, spewing out non-stop food. Fruit, pies, hams, bread... Rakar's stomach growled just thinking of the obscene plenty of it. They had been easy prey at first, Wind Walking slowly along laden with packs just bursting with food for the outlying settlements. The hunting had been good then. But even ESCUS Clerics are not stupid enough to repeat the same mistake. Now they flew as swiftly as those damned pegasi, were escorted by tough adventurers, or just Teleported straight to their destinations.
Still, there was nothing else for it. They would just have to ambush the Wind Walkers out of the clouds, and hit them hard with a terror-strike against the fat cleric carrying the bag of food. He would be a tasty titbit for the 'griffs, and Rakkar's mouth was watering again just thinking of the Cornucopia produce. They were the Children of AMON: the feared hunters of the Badlands. This was what they did.
"Let's hunt!" he called to his men. "For TERRIK, DAELOTH and AMON!"
The Great Goblin snarled with pleasure as he watched his ships set sail. Ral-Ksarg, Emperor of all the Goblins, had risen swiftly to power, uniting the warring Hobgoblin, Goblin and Kobold factions, and now he was extending his Empire overseas. Soon the humans would feel the spikes of their maces!
Ksarg had begun as a rabble-rouser in the crowded streets of Gûl-Vlersch, the Gullet City. A few uprisings and a bit of Teleporting later, and he had overthrown the rulers of the Three Cities before they knew what had hit them. His masterstroke, though, was the non-aggression pact with the Orcish Emperor. The orcs were busy with the Evil Law / Evil Chaos wars that were sweeping the Underworld, and Ashazôrg were happy to call off their long-running offensives against the Goblins in return for a promise that the newly-united Goblins wouldn't launch an offensive against them. The orcs could wait, Ksarg reckoned. The humans were easier prey. The men of the South are merchants, not warriors.
His first strike on the humans was against the Oasis of Olives and Eucalyptus. Ksarg had rallied the goblins in the area, and done a deal with the Scorpion Cult. The druids had thought they were safe, being a neutral poison market. But the Cult were unhappy with their cut. Ksarg let them have complete control of the poison trade, so long as they sold to him at low fixed prices. The attack was more of a massacre than a proper battle, but the point was simply to give his goblins confidence that the humans could be beaten. And, BARRL's Teeth, did they have fun disembowelling those druids! Ksarg read victory in their entrails - or so he told his goblins.
He made a few speeches threatening to fall upon the Southern Cities, but they were as much for the benefit of spies as to build up the hatred of his goblins. The nearest target was the Jungle Ports. Port Kambo is not so far from Gûl-Tseng, the Fang City, but is protected by swamps. The only way the goblins could take the war to the humans was by building boats. Fortunately there were plenty of trees around the Bay of CASPIS and above Gûl-Tseng, and more than a few unscrupulous human shipwrights ready to sell out their fellow humans for goblin gold.
The winter storms in the Bay of Sighs had kept his hastily-constructed shipyards safe from raids by human ships. Now spring was here, and the winds had died down. Today it was dead calm: perfect weather for his galleys to put to sea. Even a kobold couldn't get seasick on that.
The Emperor adjusted the Crown of Frenzy upon his head and prepared a few choice words to stoke up the malice of his goblin horde. He had promised them blood, and soon they would be bathing in it.
"STRAMMASCH's Sword!" shouted Pamadan. "Get stuck into the bastards, you cretins!"
"They are, dear," murmured Azord, Warlord of Kner, at her side. "But it's a bit difficult without the siege engines."
"The cowards are running away!" exclaimed the excitable half-orc High Priestess of STRAMMASCH. "They should be dying in battle!"
Azord forbore from further comment. He was not going to win this argument, and did not wish to appear un-Faithful to the Demigoddess of Violence. But he had achieved all he had really expected out of this morning's assault on the Citadel of Ved. Last night the defenders had made a successful spoiling attack against his preparations for the next assault. The sally had not broken the siege, but it had destroyed some siege towers he had been moving into position and routed a few units. The whole point of today's assault was simply to demonstrate who was the aggressor here. He had to keep up the morale of his army, and preserve his credit with ZAKEL.
For the whole point of warfare here in the Evil/Chaotic orcish land of Trikāf was how you went about it. You had to win of course, but winning without putting on a proper show of strength and demonstrating your mastery of the classic arts of warfare won you few followers, and precious little ZAKEL credit. Azord felt he had done pretty well on this score.
A former mercenary adventurer turned merchant, who cornered the Lotus market with some assistance from his band of thugs, Azord had risen to prominence through bribery and the murder of his rivals. He then formed an alliance with the Temple of STRAMMASCH, whose High Priestess, Pamadan (a veteran of the fighting pits) was even more ruthless and violent than he was. They were a perfect match really. Soon he was Warlord of Kner:, and she was head of its newest, largest and most powerful Temple. But the Creed of STRAMMASCH demanded that they keep fighting. So Azord and Pamadan went to war against their neighbours. The obvious target was Ved, whose Warlord, Dirhjg, served DAELOTH, Mistress of Terror, and kept control of the town by the use of execution and torture squads, undead, monsters and that sort of stuff. He had some impressive units, but they would be no match against a properly-drilled army.
So with his money from the Lotus trade, the vaults of his late rivals and the promise of plunder, Azord hired a large mercenary army from the influx of veterans returning from the War in the Dungeons. He marched against Ved in winter, but that was not unusual in Trikāf, which lies between Hell and the Desert of Fire. It can get cold in the mountains in winter, but down on the plains the campaigning season lasts all year. However he had reckoned without Dirhjg's Demon Summoners (or whoever) trying a bit of weather control. His army almost froze to death in the trenches outside Ved, but he kept them warm building siege engines, mounting scouting expeditions to watch out for Terror units attacking out of the hills (especially the feared wargriders) and making a series of violent set-piece assaults on the walls.
This strategy had taken the outer city before he ran out of food, and now he was tightening his grip around the Citadel and its central Black Tower. Admittedly the undead from the Necropolis were still a problem (forcing him to attack by day), and the Demons were vicious, but his mercenaries had defeated the enemy wargriders and were able to Teleport into the enemy stronghold and bomb it as often as he could pay the Alchemists for materials.
Still he was worried. Azord needed to win this battle quickly, for there was a third force in the field. He first learned of it when he captured Slaarg, the enemy wargrider captain, but now his own wargrider scouts had taken prisoners who confirmed it. The Dwarves were in the Far Hills, and by now had even crossed the River Sarif into the Gums Hills - threatening his supply line. Azord could handle a few gnomes from Flerrig, but this was clearly a serious invasion force. They were using the Creeping Death and were supported by Evil/Lawful orcs: former prisoners taken in the Dungeons after the Fall of Heaven, and forced into service by the SARAN-worshippers rather than face death or (even worse) being turned to Slime. Azord knew he was facing veterans of the Dungeons, and that they either intended to set up an Evil/Lawful orcish puppet state in Trikāf or to open up an overland route to invade Hell itself. So STRAMMASCH had told Pamadan and him in Commune.
The sensible thing to do, of course, would be to make a treaty with Dirhjg and join together against the common foe. Indeed, some of the scouts were already informally co-operating, and weren't STRAMMASCH and DAELOTH both members of the Hell's Teeth, the Demigod Defenders of Hell? But he and Dirhjg already had their claws sunk into each other, and Azord knew that neither of them could back down and maintain the respect of their followers. No, he had to strike now, and strike viciously - to take Ved, kill Dirhjg, and take control of as many fighting orcs as he could keep alive on both sides - before the Lawfuls could put enough troops in the field to threaten him.
He was done for today though. Pretending not to hear Pamadan's protests, Azord signalled for the horns to blow the retreat. His army had bloodied its claws enough for now, and would live to fight another day.
"LIAKA's claws!" exclaimed Zert. "Is everyone in league with those blasted mercenaries?"
"They see which way the wind is blowing," replied Yeohrl in a mild tone. "After your cock-up at Stzlìn it's only to be expected."
"Cock-up!" shouted the outraged Warlord of Klìn. "That Chaotic bastard Kraz cheated! I don't know what he had mounted on those Nazgûl, but they put the Fear of ZAKEL into my orcs. We had him outnumbered, and if half my blasted army hadn't run away, he'd have been in quarters on my gate by now!"
"Yes..." mused Yeohrl in that way Zert found so infuriating. "They looked like Spectres by all accounts, but seemed to cause Fear. Possibly something old Nàrsan dragged out of Madness. Or perhaps Nightmare? I must look into it. Maybe old Lyesh has some ideas."
"You do that," replied Zert, trying to stay respectful to his Master, "but right now we've got an uprising in the streets of Klìn. That Brazh has just been waiting for his opportunity, and now that the merchants are panicking they're willing to pay the gold he needs for his mercenaries. He's got Dungeon veterans who've faced the Creeping Death, against my conscripts who ran away from your Madness Monsters! My - our troops are giving a good account of themselves. They know I'll hang their guts from the walls if they don't. But the thieves and prostitutes are all siding with Brazh. House to house fighting is bad enough, but when the residents are against you too, it's downright vicious. Can't you do something... sir?"
"Hmmm..." mused the Wizard. "They all fear my Flying Castle, but it's the merchants who run this town really. They'll do anything to protect their precious Lotus crop. Even side with an invading Evil/Chaotic army from Vlàger and our local ZAKEL Temple, it would seem. I can bomb them of course, but we'd just be destroying our own city."
"We're losing it anyway at this rate!" retorted Zert. "The streets are running with blood, and most of it Lawful."
"The Rats and the Ghosts are our best allies in this," said Yeohrl. "Have you bribed them enough?"
"I've promised the Rats all the gold you gave me, and more, and we're already handing over as many bodies as we can get to the Temple of SOROK. We control the sewers right enough, but we're still losing the fight above ground."
"Nothing for it then but to fight fire with fire. Brazh controls the mercenaries here in Klìn, but my credit's still good in Ashazôrg, and there should still be plenty of Evil/Lawfuls to recruit there. Do you have someone you trust that you can send to the Place of Mercenaries? I've got my best men out investigating those stories of an Elvish invasion from the Lost Country."
"I don't know why you bother," grumbled Zert. "If they're really coming, it will be Zert's problem if we haven't beat him first. Damn it to Hell, I'll go myself! How much can I spend?"
"I hear prices are going up again, what with war breaking out everywhere. We'll need some trolls too, and maybe another nine Nazgûl. At least I can do the Teleportal. I'll write you a letter of credit, and we'll just have to claw it back by taxing those bloody merchants after we win."
"That I like!" Zert laughed at last. "It will be my very great pleasure to enforce that tax."
Mordo slipped through the shadows, lovingly fingering the Dagger of SOROK beneath his cloak. He had been Chosen for this great task, and he would not fail.
The key to a successful Ghosting is to select as high a level sacrifice as you can assassinate for your initial Spectre. Non-thieves are good for this. Clerics give maximum SOROK credit. Then you build as big a core group as you can Control, keeping them hidden all the time. A good sewer system helps a lot here. Next you starve them of life for at least a night. Finally you disperse them as quickly as you can, and the Ghosting begins. The more you can spread it out, the harder it is for the local Clerics to get it under control. If you do it right, they never do, and you have yourself a nice Ghost Town.
PHANTOM's Shroud, but that would be good! Mordo so wanted to make his first Ghosting a success. After all, you don't get a second chance in this business.
JAKK looked around the secure chamber and bared His teeth in a grin. All was going splendidly.
On the table DAELOTH and STRAMMASCH had already set up the Siege of Ved. The Demigoddess of Violence was aggressively shoving wooden blocks of troops at the walls, whilst the Demigoddess of Terror caressed some disturbing-looking black pieces as She carefully selected where to place them.
LIAKA was off in the corner, rummaging through the box for more units to place on the board that represented the forthcoming Siege of Klìn. Some of DAELOTH's pieces stood ready there too. PHANTOM's were already in place (if one looked carefully), but the attention of the Demigod of Ghosts Himself seemed to be elsewhere.
BARRL seemed to have taken all the little wooden ships, and was carefully overstacking green blocks on them next to a crowned figure at the edge of a third board, which represented Port Kambo. JAKK placed a few blocks here for the Demigod of Malevolence to fixate upon.
The Trickster Himself was holding a beautifully-drawn circular map of Hell. He now placed this in the centre of the table, as a silent reminder to the Players that They were the Hell's Teeth - Defenders of Hell. JAKK carefully aligned Hell between the boards representing Ved and Klìn, and then dropped into place a few more wooden blocks that He had concealed in the Bag of Holding up His sleeve.
"What are We going to do about those then, bitch?" STRAMMASCH demanded of DAELOTH, throwing a piece shaped like a wolf's head at an oddly-shaped green unit the Demigod of Wickedness had strewn near Their private battle.
"We?" sneered DAELOTH. "If You're so frightened by a few little dwarves, You deal with them."
"Oh, I will," growled STRAMMASCH. "That I will. Let them get a bit closer, and I'll give them a real taste of how We make War in the Underworld."
"They're threatening Your rear," observed JAKK.
"Hit the Overworld!" said BARRL, apparently to Himself. "Hit the Overworld!"
"He'sss right," whispered PHANTOM. "They mussst pay for Their arrogancccce..."
"Whose side are You on Ghosty?" interjected LIAKA. "We have a Law / Chaos War going on here. Let Them join in if They want to! The more the bloodier!!"
JAKK chuckled, and produced another unit, as if from thin air. "How much am I bid for this one?" He asked.
"Ten thousand Karma," responded STRAMMASCH, without even looking.
"That's a nice one, darling," observed DAELOTH in one of Her most chilling tones. "I bid twenty."
"Twenty-one," bid PHANTOM (Who is notoriously tight with His Karma).
"Fifty," bid LIAKA (Who does not mess around).
As the Hell's Teeth continued the auction, the Trickster surveyed the table with some satisfaction. The gathering stormclouds of Winter were about to burst, and some of the other players were going to get very wet.
We continue to run one game month per three meta months, and Destri 2504 is concluding by the end of December 2003. Your plots are now requested for the month of Kemel 2504 (Underworld Days 52 to 76), which will be run during January to March 2004. See How to submit your Plot for guidance.
For the latest news and all the detail from the Season So Far, remember to visit the rumourmonger.
© P.R. Wild, 20 December 2003
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