It is finished... for now...

He is dead. The great Enemy, the God Ka Sha K’hacknah, is finally slain by your combined efforts…

For a moment, there is silence. Suddenly the scene outside the windows, frozen in time, reanimates in an explosion of violence and fire, the sun pillar fading in its dyign heat. Yet the enemies unstoppable ship still careens towards the fleeing Lauresia. They are on a collision course…

You stare out of the windows, helpless to act.  Then the air itself is rent by a mighty explosion and you and thrown to the floor.  Fire is breaking out all along the Flagships length, and the gathering energies at the front of the vessel begin to whirl in a random kaleidoscope of tortured colours.  The scene tilts as the flagship begins to fall. Suddenly the entire front of the vessel explodes.  Without warning an enormous explosion of coloured light erupts from the front of flagship, a chaotic cacophony of uncontrolled colours and light, engulfing the entire broken lands and many of your allied forces: a hundred allied ships, stones from Lauresia, winged skylings, a smattering of aberrations … and Scooby.

All disappear.

 …

 Assention.

It does not take long for Methos to grasp the meaning of his new existence. For while all of you are now more powerful that you have ever imagined (level 21), Methos seems to have absorbed a disproportionate amount of the scattering divinity. He has become a hero God of time and psyonics.

If he was arrogant before…

He does not age, nor can he be slain by any normal means. Indeed, only by slaying him in his home plane can his death be considered final. And with that thought a nagging feeling remain – you task is incomplete.

For unless you destroy all the remains of the Enemy in the Benighted realm he will, one day, return to life and hunt you once more. It may take a thousand years, it may take only one…

Will you leave this task to others to complete?

The final council

The council is gathered. There are representatives from the seven great nations of the Sphere. The Wise Sultancy lead by Sultan Sunali Naphti, the learned Tris represented by keeper of the mahogany obsidian gate, the charismatic skylings and their beautiful Queen, the mighty Warlords by their Kobold chieftain, the salubrious Beastmen represented by the mighty ranger Raining day, the skilful Pirates and their Lady Ebon. And at the head of the table sits Palayon, chairperson of Lauresia. 

“The armies are ready, my Lord.” The Herald speaks. “And each are placed according to the councils arrangement. Each day brings news of our enemies advance forces, attacking in small numbers and at seemingly random.”

“They are trying to strike fear into our hearts, but it won’t work!” The Warlord chieftain roars, to scattered applause. “Besides, I am disappointed. The enemy sends his weakest against us, his pawns.”

“Perhaps, but I think it more likely they are testing our area’s of weakness, exploring our strategies.” Palayon advised, many nod at his sage advice.

“True also,” Sunali advises, “But I fear his stratagems are far more deviant. I alone here have tasted his bile. I know his cunning. By giving us weak adversaries he is convincing us that he is less of a threat than he really is. Then, look here, as he takes the northern and western mountains we think little of it. But he then gains direct access to the beastmen forest of the Sultancy, and riverside access towards Yakamman. Sending in his elite troops in these area’s while we consider the threat from his forward flank would be devastating to our defences.

Everyone is silent. No one can deny Sunali’s insight, and they are in shock at the Enemies tactics he has revealed.

“Then we best set the Warlord elite units 1 and 7 at Yakamman.” Palayon advises.

“They will like that as much as they will enjoy pulling their own mothers eyelashes.” The Kobold disagrees. “They will want to be in the front line, they all do.”

Palayon smiles. “Yes, but they will see action, and be critical to our war efforts. I promise!”

“I will send healers to attend them.” Raining day states.

“Assist, or placate?” the Kobold disagrees.

Raining day sneers at him, and the air in the room is tense.

The Skyqueen changes the topic. “The Tris have redeveloped high range cannonry since the intrusion by the future selves, who you reported attempted to assassinate your hero’s, correct Palayon?”

“Indeed, a troubling development. We can be sure whatever abomination latched onto them informed the enemy of our tactics in the alternative time stream. We must act as if our best strategies are watched.”

“And are they not?” Ebon interjects. “Need I remind you who we fight today? A GOD.”

“Let me assure you, reincarnate,” The Tris scholar interjects, “The Enemy you justly fear is far more blinded by our powerful Tris magics than you can even imagine. We have slain more Gods than you can count, this one will be little different.”

The room is silent at his confidence.

For all his bravado all know the Tris Empire did, eventually, fall.

“And what if we do overcome the Terror nimbus? What then? What power have we that can defeat this deity?” The Kobold asks.

“Patience.” Sunali councils. “He will not doubt guess that all our hopes ride on bringing down his nimbus, a tactical oversight I am counting he did not guess us to know. We must not bring all our forces to bear against him should the nimbus fall. Our best hope is to either send small groups, elite forces, into his flagship, or hope our salvation arises from another area to defeat him. Either way, any who face him personally can expect resistance of an unimaginable magnitude.”

“Then what?” Ebon shouts, “We take his ship, and his army, only to be defeated by the Enemy in person?!”

“No. not this time.” Palayon interjects, the hurt in his eyes only barely concealed at his anger in allowing a doopleganger into the city, even one that eventually turned against her God. “We must not forget the hero’s. They have shown more skill, faith and luck in these two short years than our entire culture in 100,000 in defeating the enemy and thwarting his plans. When the terror nimbus fails, you must each do what you feel is right. But my heart tells me that all our hopes, all our LIVES, rest on those still so young. It is up to them, or no-one.”

Once more, the room is silent with this truth. Soon conversation turns once more to how to best prepare the cities, armies and people of the Great Sphere.

The Obsidian blade

His voice is raspy, slightly mocking “I am Moonsong, lieutenant of the legions that first saw to the slaying to Hextors avatar, a slaying which lead to such arrogance it brought about the death of all the Tris and their Gods! Let only those that deem themselves most worthy to wield the Obsidian blade consider touching it, (don’t touch it unless you’re going to keep it) for it’s power is a curse: only those wishing to slay a God consider wielding it, and only a God feels threatened by those that do. Touch it, and you will be feared – not by mortals, but you will make enemies of those that never rest…. Mwa ha ha ha ha!

The Obsidian blade. +8 dagger, able to sneak attack gods each time it is used. Can be thrown an infinite number of times each round (depending on the throwers skill). Has permanent non detection and undetectable aura CL 27 on the dagger and holder. Can be used to cast non detection, protection from scrying, veil 1/ week at level 27 (all spells at once, last for 9 hours) on up to 9 individuals. Can cast Deeper darkness, Greater invisibility, summon shadows 5 at will. +4 to control orb of nothingness.

The future selves

1. The child of Methos
The Oracle has called you in. she is dying. “Beloved, oh my beloved. I am not long for this world. I will not live to see your Enemy arrive, if I live to see another day. But I have a gift for you. A gift none of your kind may ever hold. It is our child… it is our son… Ooodubranairanon."

2. The war lords

Gerry heaves, and heaves… first there is a crack, then a small fissure appears in one end. It slowly begins to re-heal, and Gerry heaves again. And again. Suddenly, with a crack like thunder, the meteorite is broken!

3. The future selves

When the Enemy came… it was not the straight forward honest fight I think we all expected. We fought hard, we fought long, and eventually we began to push his forces back on the northern flank. The Sultans forces were responsible for this. We were almost to his flag ship, an enormous squid like thing surrounded by an aura of shadow, a ‘terror nimbus’. We were about to mount an offensive against him personally.

Then, it was the strangest thing, it was as if it had never happened. There was a blinding flash of black light from the terror nimbus, greatly draining it, yet time changed. It was as if the Enemy had gone back in time and changed history without us. He knew our tactics, he knew which inspired leaders to target. And the only ones who knew it had happened were those with power stones. We had no chance, we were outstretched and outclassed. Lauresia fell within the hour, the Sultancy was next. He sent a great fleet to destroy the Tris but they closed their portal just in time, leaving us to our fate.

We continued to fight; horrible, terrifying guerrilla warfare. Living in trenches, each new day brought news of new atrocities happening to loved ones. We don’t know when this happened to us… but it did… and now we are sure he knows everything we know…

(Now, what where your three suggestions of what to do about that again?)

The God Who Remained - part 2

He looks at you his eyes such endless pools of darkness you fear they may draw you in and you would be lost forever. Then, for the first time his eyes are filled with a light of hope. “Yes… what I did, I had to do, though it was not pleasant. I broke no law, though perhaps I was a little harsh... I will forgive myself. I will move on. I am no longer a slave to my past!!”

With a tremendous roar, The God Who Remained stands up, ribbons of glory as living flame burst from the air to envelope him. All around you, the stone crumbles and dissolves to leave a glorious landscape paved in pure gold, pillars of resplendent Lapis Lazuli reaching up into the depths of a star scaped heaven.

The God Who Remained breathes once more, and it is the deep breath of a man returning from the dead. His voice is full, complete, and inspiring. “I am free. You have helped set me free!” The light about him grows and gathers till it is too bright to imagine, and you are forced to look away or be blinded.

Then, with a clap of thunder, he is gone, and you are back on ground, outside the temple. All around you, millions of Logarmayon souls are waiting, looking intently at you. You sense they are grateful - Completely and enraptured with gratitude. Slowly, they begin to fade, and the Gods voice speaks to your mind.

“I am grateful. These may now move on, and be completed. I am grateful…”

(included treasure, a +4 large keen scythe of slaying, a gem for Lukat, and a large sized treasure chest - about two by one meters - full of charged Orizon crystals...)

The God Who Remained, part 1

Legends long forgotten speak of an ancient race of powerful beings. A race who built the Great Sphere, a race whose broken world now makes up the millions of islands of the Eversea. Legends that, if they are to be believed, speak of weapons of immense power, weapons that could slay a God, weapons that could shatter a world. Those same legends also speak of a forgotten deity who might offer knowledge of such weapons. A single God, a God known only as “The God Who Remained…”



… The constructs waited.

They had waited for a million years. Unmoving, uncaring. They waited. Theirs was eternity to own. They had no passion, they felt no boredom. They knew only one thought: At any cost - Do not let any take the crystal from the stone circle.

They heard the intruders long before the intruders knew they existed. They read their thoughts even before they’d found the eternally warring spirits of the Logarmayon. But the intruders were not trying to take the crystal from the stone circle, so the constructs waited.

They watched passionless as the intruders circumvented the warring spirits to enter the hall of learning. There the intruders repaired the Encyclopaedia, and there they learnt about the destruction of the Logarmayon; how they’d offended their god, and plotted their own divinity at any cost.

But they did not try to move the crystal, so the constructs waited.

They watched without feeling as the intruders went to the people’s tower. There they set free the five rebellious leaders of the people, whose greed and lust for personal power had turned the citizens against each other. The constructs listened as the intruders wondered why the God who Remained had done nothing to prevent this tragedy. They listened without sorrow as the intruders learnt that it was the God himself who had done this. The God who had slain his own people rather than wait for them to destroy themselves. The God who now would not forgive himself, and who had torn off a part of his soul rather than risk allowing himself to receive his own compassion.

Still they waited, for none tried to remove their crystal from the stone circle. And they would wait for ever for…

…suddenly it was gone.

A pair of stone arms had risen from the floor, enveloped the crystal which had been the focus of the growing divinity which the people had coveted, and it was gone. Only one had managed to unleash her lightening, but had missed.

And in less than a moment, the crystal was gone.

…

Their purpose had ended. With no instructions left to fulfil, the light in their eyes slowly dimmed as they each fell into the requisite dreamless inactivity. There, they would wait for further instructions. And they could wait forever, for theirs was eternity to own…

Peace among the natives and the Messed up present

“It’s all true!” Raining day explains to the children, “I was an enemy to the Tris. I held on to the old ways. But my friends, our true allies of Lauresia, took me back in time when the Empire of the Tris once stood. And there I learnt a painful lesson – they had once saved our people, saved them all! And we were in debt to them, a debt which must not be forgotten!


The children cheer. He continues:

“However, they had forgotten. And they took us for granted. They treated us like slaves. This broke our people and theirs apart. This is what created the debt which cannot be forgiven.”

The children gasp. He continues:

“I went back, to destroy them. But I stopped once I learnt that what I thought could not be forgiven must not be forgotten!”

Silence. Oblivious to their confusion, he continues.

“But we made a mistake. Going back in time, we moved a noble cat. Time divided against itself, and a boy who was not hurt did not prevent his mother from speaking against a cruel law. Then, when the war that approaches overtook them, we fought by their side to our deaths! It was the death of our people. We returned to the present only to find there were no Beastmen, no Sultancy, no Light in Lauresia. Their city was dark, held prisoner by an almost irresistible force of evil, compelling all to join in the battle in the war that comes. We had to go back in time and make an enemy of an ally or all our people would perish!”

One child, overtaxed by the cognitive demands, bursts into tears. He continues:

“So we went back, back to the Tris I now love. And with all the respect and gratitude I could muster, laid the smack down on that helpful Tris senator. They voted down a kind law, and now I am confident that after the war that comes our people of the past will survive! And with the mightly Empire of the Tris as our allies in the war that comes, our people of the present will survive!!”

“But sir!” A child asks.

“Yes?” Raining day replies.

“What’s a Tris…?”