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ORDER & CHAOS pt. 10
Posted 06-07-2009 at 11:53 PM by Goth Writer
Updated 06-11-2009 at 08:26 PM by Goth Writer (It's a work in progress...)
Updated 06-11-2009 at 08:26 PM by Goth Writer (It's a work in progress...)
“You are too late. Ankharet is dead. The Harad Ghul killed her with the help of those malevolent specters. I have relinquished my claim to the Gaean Plane. You have my word that the Lykanthros will leave your Regions free of invasion.”
“So be it, Guardon,” replied Lord Taliesin. “Your wolf creatures were creating a great nuisance to the welfare of our livestock and crops. It is unfortunate that the renegade troll woman could not be assuaged with peaceful means. If you agree to leave our lands free of harassment then we have no quarrel.”
“That does not include us, Humanoids.”
Flotsam and Jetsam flew into the chamber from a window overlooking the red hills.
“We act at the behest of Thoth. He brought Guardon here ages ago and wishes that the rift be re-opened to the Plane of Chaos.”
“Do not attempt that, Specters,” ordered the Daemon Lord. “Thoth fathered me in ancient times but is too unruly an entity to be allowed access to Gaea or this plane. Your intentions will bring the destruction of the Dharmic Equilibrium as we know it.”
“So be it. The Drystyx Monks have their own agenda. They will fill in the Ethereal Offices held by you and the troll folk. Clear the way, now, so that we may rupture the gong seal at your feet.”
“I refuse,” Guardon answered, “and I’m sure these Gaeans reflect my sentiments.”
“Verily, Daemon Lord,” Taliesin entoned.
The mercenaries wielded their weapons. Gilead, the Key Mage of Coermantyr, assailed the specters with a harnessing spell.
“Mezclix!”
A luminescent, red matrix appeared before the adept mage. He gestured toward the specters with his hands and the mesh hurled forward. It wrapped itself around the translucent beings, restraining their movement as they hovered over the seal.
“This is an outrage,” cried Jetsam. “I demand that you leave us. We will not be thwarted by your childish pranks.”
Guardon rose from his throne and strode quickly to the struggling specters. He grabbed their restraining net and hurled the bundle against the wall. The blue of the entities and the red of the matrix burst into a cloud of magical fragments. The Daemon Lord flung his arms through the Ephemeral Mist in an attempt to prevent the specters from reconstituting.
His plan did not work. The fragments that had been Flotsam and Jetsam swirled together in a homegenous mass. The blue energy condensed into an angular, drill shape. It spun rapidly as it descended, boring a large hole through the gong seal at the floor of the chamber. As the tip of the spiral broke through the other side of the barrier a vent of steam jetted into the room. Guardon and the Gaeans were thrown against the walls, losing their balance. A jagged crease ran across the diameter of the magic seal. It split in a thundering boom and was ripped downward into the Plane of Chaos.
Electric bolts writhed from the rift. A voice rumbled into the throne room.
“Your work is done, My Son. Return to our abode. My monks and I will secure this plane for our own purposes.”
A pair of gargantuan, clawed hands gripped the sides of the rift. A great, red, draconian head rose into the room. The air was permeated with an acrid, sulphuric odor.
“No, Father,” Guardon answered, “You are not meant to venture here. The Dharmic Equilibrium of the Mandala of the Planes exists to maintain a kharmic balance among the cosmic energies. You know this as well as I. I will prevent you from usurping these higher planes for they are neutral ground in the System of Worlds.”
The winged daemon flew over the rift and grappled his father’s massive head. He wrestled and twisted it. The manifestation of Thoth in dragon form howled with frustration. His red, horned head shook from side to side violently but Guardon would not release his grip.
Guardon addressed the Gaeans from his awkward position.
“Mercenaries, return to your plane. You must regroup and return here. I will seal this breach but it will not last. My father is ambitious and won’t be turned easily from this opportunity.”
The bronze-skinned Leader of the Gorgons gestured into the Throne Room with a free hand. A spatial rift opened. On the other side stood the Crossroads of the Ghastly Fens.
Guardon flapped his leathery wings forcefully and pushed Thoth down into the Plane of Chaos. Lord Taliesin and his friends heard the cries and howls of the titanic battle from above. Gusts of caustic flame and pummeled beholders were flung from the rift. A silver disc of magic appeared in the place where the gong seal had been. It congealed and became a plug of hardened, black clay. The cacophony of the feud between father and son was cut off.
The Gaeans looked at one another as they rose to their feet. Their breath and weapons were the only audible sounds.
“Alas, broken the gong seal is. Return to Gaea we should. Strong the Lore Masters are and Siegemunde too. Help us they can and prepare us they will for the coming War of the Planes,” The Watcher said.
He shook his head and lifted his modest travel pack for the return home.
“The halfling is correct,” observed the Baroness of Coermantyr. “Our ancestors waged campaigns of this nature. We must consult with the historic tomes and gain the advice of the Council of Mages. Bjorn Roundtree and the others will eventually arrive in this Chamber and return to the Crossroads. I will leave a note for them to return to our Home Plane and meet us in the Burial Ruins of the lich folk.”
Lady Redthorne scrawled her message on a sheet of parchment. She posted the letter at the head of Guardon’s throne with a jeweled dagger.
“That is appropriate, Baroness. We all can use some rest and a solid meal before dealing with these Drystyx Monks. Let’s go, My Friends. There is yet much work to do,” said Lord Taliesin.
The mercenaries marched through Guardon’s spatial breach. They were relieved to set foot on Gaean soil. Alex and Oxholm gathered what dry wood they could find to build a campfire. The fighters gazed at the crimson-edged portal from time to time. It was impossible to conceal their concern for Bjorn and their other comrades yet to emerge from Guardon’s Spires.
***
Bjorn stood at the end of another long hallway. A sequence of torches burned brightly. Whoever lit them was nowhere to be seen. The halfling looked toward the end of the lengthy passage.
“This fortress is mysterious,” declared Reoren. “I have not previously encountered such a structure. Its builders surely intended to confuse and deflect any would-be invaders.”
A band of Stalactite Orcs and Lykanthros rushed through the doorway at the opposite end of the hall. A trio of large beholders accompanied them; each of the stone-colored beasts was at least ten feet in diameter.
The pale humanoids were short and quick. They carried curved lances and sprinted down the brightly lit corridor. The orcs clashed with the armored Knights of Mystic Down and Coermantyr.
The sound of the ensuing melee echoed along the walls, making it seem louder than it already was. The Knights of Coermantyr parried the thrusting blades of the orcs tactfully and counter-attacked a number of them. A pair of the jagged-toothed creatures was stabbed severely and slumped to the floor, unconscious. The soldiers of Mystic Down opted for broadswords and swung at the Lykanthros aggressively. They lunged forward at the slavering wolf creatures, dipping so far that a knee touched the floor. As the tips of their blades penetrated the hairy bodies of the Lykanthros they twisted their swords before turning and rendering a fatal blow to the head.
Sponge, Anemone and the blue-skinned merfolk ran in from the flanks. They employed their curved daggers to finish off the grappling wolf beasts.
Reoren and Gearzon rushed at the giant beholders. The single-eyed creatures cast circular shadows on the walls and ceiling as they hovered to the warriors. The gnome engineer clutched weighty wrenches in his strong hands. He wasn’t tall enough to attack them face-to-face but swung his steel tools upward from below. The claws of his wrenches broke through the tough tissue of the beasts. When he pulled them free to swing again he was covered in a cascade of green blood. The beholder he was targeting howled in pain and rotated to identify its attacker. As soon as the giant eye was in range Gearzon struck it hard.
Bjorn assailed the spherical creatures with sharpened stones hurled from his sling. Several of the howling gorgons were gashed deep wounds by the missiles and slumped lifeless to the floor.
Gnoll and the strong wood trolls came to the aid of their gnome friend. They battled the beholders with the help of Nighthawk’s goblins and vanquished them. The fighters peered down the hallway in which they stood.
“The malevolence of this massive fortress is palpable,” said the Arborean Guard. “It represents a negative energy that is surely meant to drain Gaea of its resources. Our friends are moving through this stronghold in separate paths. They must converge at the Throne Room of the Gorgon King. Let’s move onward and learn what we can of the architecture of this mountainous structure.”
The friends marched on. They came upon a steel door. It had an ornate knob designed to resemble a gargoyle’s head. The halfling, Bjorn, beckoned to Reoren, the lich merchant, to approach.
“Give us some light, Ghoul Troll. There is a mechanism in this knob which may be convinced to open the portal.”
“Certainly, Bjorn,” answered the tall trader.
The amateur magic user incanted a spell of illumination.
“Lumus, luminares!”
The cloaked Gaean acquired a halo of golden light. It shone brightly and allowed the halfling to focus on the task at hand. Bjorn withdrew a small set of tools from his travel pack. He tinkered within the metal teeth of the gargoyle knob. The sound of twisting gears was followed by a loud snap as the bolts were thrown free of the cinderblock wall. The halfling gripped the knob in his pudgy hands and twisted it forcefully. It rotated in a semicircle and the door opened inward.
The fighters beheld a vast cavern. It reached far into the hewn rock of Guardon’s Spires. The limits of the rift in the Under Earth lay beyond the range of Reoren’s light. A myriad of stalagmites and stalactites penetrated the environment.
“It must have taken centuries for these mineral columns to form from the dripping water,” said Gearzon.
“There are similar structures in the Arkadian mountains. I’m sure orcs and goblins would be as much at home here as they are in their Native Region,” Nighthawk observed.
“I sense a magical disturbance above us,” said Anemone. “The Orb of Paryphax hums from the conflict.”
The merwoman withdrew the glinting sphere from her bodice and dangled it from her webbed fingers. The crystalline orb shimmered with waves of undulating light. Its emanations ranged from deep crimson to bright green.
“Skjold’s Orb has always been highly responsive to flaring sorcery,” Gnoll entoned. “When he lived he frequently warned us of impending storms and blizzards days in advance.”
“I detect the struggle within the Planar Mandala as well, My Friends,” said Reoren.
The tall lich troll directed his view upward as he attempted to focus on the source of the rippling energy.
“Lord Taliesin and Baroness Sharon have reached Guardon’s Throne Room. I’m sure of it,” declared Anemone. “There is a driving energy pushing at the gong seal far above us. Umihito spoke of it many times as an ancient barrier between the Gorgon Plane and the Plane of Chaos. I fear that the magicians who sought the Orb of Paryphax took drastic measures to retrieve it. It may well have proven their undoing. I perceive untamed entities that grind at the aged seal with their own volition and motives.”
A turbulent temblor shook through the walls and floor. Numbers of boulders and stalactites were dislodged from the stone ceiling and plummeted aimlessly to the distant ground. The agile Gaeans evaded the falling rock deftly. Chunks of ore and minerals shattered into chalky fragments when they collided with the chamber floor at high speed.
“The seal has been breached!” cried Anemone.
Her merfolk supported her as she swooned from the shock of the rending of the Dharmic Equilibrium.
“I suspect this is the result of the tampering of the specters that Themistokles summoned in Mystic Down to retrieve the orb. They are not of this plane or Gaea. The entities must work at the bidding of Thoth and the Drystyx Monks who attend him,” said Bjorn.
“Our Regions remain in jeopardy as long as the planes are linked. At all else we should rendezvous with our friends and return to the Council Chamber of the Lore Masters. Restadicus can help us still and consult with his fellow mages to find a way to bring harmony to our lands.”
The earthquake stopped and the warriors marched forward into the spacious cavern. Bjorn noticed the terrain vaulted downward precipitously, forcing the travelers to take care not to lose their balance.
The stone outcroppings protruding from the pebbly soil became large and monolithic. Another wave of energy permeated the chamber with increased intensity. The Gaeans lost their footholds and struggled to grasp the great boulders in order to regain their balance. The rocks tilted inward.
“Beware, My Friends!” Gearzon yelled. “Stay away from these pillars lest you be crushed.”
The stones closed in upon the fighters unimpeded. Despite the warning of the gnome engineer they were unable to roll free. The boulders rose upward violently. A giant, granite face peered down at the mercenaries with glowing, amethyst eyes.
A booming, female voice laughed.
“I have you now, Fleshlings. Your raucous stumbling awakened me from my slumber. I am Petra. What business have you this deep in The Spires of the Gorgon King?”
“We are here to bring about an era of peace in our Regions,” said Bjorn. “The random, spatial rifts that appeared throughout Gaea trapped us here. Our races have united with the intention of sealing the invasive breaches that Guardon and Ankharet have been using to usurp and harass our villages.”
“Release us from your grip, if you please, Stone Giant. We have business to attend to within this fortress and cannot linger here,” said Nighthawk.
“As you wish, Warriors. You seem harmless enough. Terranoids are cautious folk and have thrived within this mineral-laden earth for eons. The recent turbulence from the opened breach above has created a disharmony among us as I’m sure you have also detected,” Petra said.
She lowered her massive, rocky hands to the pebbly ground and allowed the many Knights and fighters to disembark.
“The power struggle within the Planar Mandala continues. There is sure to be a fight now that the great seal has been shattered. In ages past, Gaean wizards stood here as you do now with the same goals in mind. They succeeded in ending the invasions conducted by Thoth. Until recently his devious agenda has been sequestered to the Plane of Chaos. I regret that the meddling of the Summoners above has brought about this new challenge. You look like a collection of hardy and stalwart individuals. If anyone is up to the task of liberating the planes surely it is you,” the stone giant declared.
The mountainous Terranoid addressed Anemone.
“Merwoman, I have a favor to ask of you. Please entrust me with the Orb of Paryphax. The rifts between the planes have become numerous now and are certain to see the passage of opposing forces in the near future. I will secure the orb of the late Wood Mage in the Terranoid Midden. It will remain safe until such time as the wood trolls have established tranquility in Arborea. I promise to then return it to the tower of its creation.”
“That is a good idea, Petra. We have studied tablets describing the Terranoid race in our coral libraries. You are a trustworthy people and can help us to keep the orb out of the wrong hands.”
The blue-skinned Aegean lifted the orb and chain from her neck and strode to the massive, stone hand of the giant woman. She climbed onto the granite palm and lay the orb there. Anemone returned to her companions.
“We will venture further into this cavern, Stone Giant,” declared Bjorn. “Our friends can use our help above and each of us misses home. We will consult with Restadicus and the Lore Masters of Coermantyr upon our return to Gaea. They will devise a plan of action to set things straight for all of us. You have our thanks.”
“Very well, Fleshlings. We will await your return,” Petra rumbled.
The subterranean chamber beyond Petra’s Midden widened further. The stalagmites and stalactites extending from the floor and ceiling achieved gargantuan proportions. The minerals from which they had solidified contained multicolored shards of metal and silicon. As the light of Reoren’s magic halo flickered past the columns they sparkled with purple and green crystals.
“The solidity of this Realm is tangible,” said Nighthawk. “Whatever primordial forces created Gaea installed just as much energy into this Gorgon Plane and perhaps others as well.”
The goblin soldier’s expression reflected his amazement at the size of the great cavern.
“I wonder if Guardon’s Lykanthros and beholders had the courage to venture this deep into the structure of The Spires,” Bjorn pondered aloud. “Reoren, is there any chance you can intensify the light of your incantation? This morass is wide. I sense a draft and moisture in the air. A large body of water must be close.”
“I will do as you suggest, My Halfling Friend. I have reviewed my arcane manual since our arrival in this plane.”
The skeletal lich troll uttered a different sorcery.
“Luminex!”
His halo became a disk of light, much like the rings around planets he’d seen through Siegemunde’s spyglass. The mercenaries saw clearly to the outer limits of the cave. They were indeed at the edge of a mysterious, iridescent lake. The syrupy surface of the water reflected the light strangely. The ubiquitous breeze created ripples that shone red and blue to the naked eye.
“This pool radiates in an unusual manner,” Gnoll observed. “It may not be wise to drink of it.”
“I’ll test it,” Bjorn volunteered.
The spritely halfling strode across the pebbly beach to the edge of the natural reservoir. He dipped his furry toe into the meniscus. It generated a sequence of waves that reached across the surface. The ripples broadened and rebounded off the opposing shores. As the waves initiated by Bjorn returned to where the warriors stood they bubbled and coalesced.
“Be careful, My Allies,” Sponge warned. “This lake is not as it seems. There are living entities at work here.”
In verification of the Aegean Captain’s words, cylindrical columns rose from the body of water.
“Look at the ceiling!” Gearzon cried.
A second lake of equal magnitude pooled on the top of the immense cavern. Similar, gelatinous columns descended from the surface aloft. They met and intertwined with those on the bottom and formed a myriad of glowing pillars. The largest cylinders mingled at the center of the two reservoirs.
Reoren beckoned to the Knights of Coermantyr, Mystic Down and Aegea.
“Gather before me, Staunch Soldiers. We must prepare ourselves for a defensive maneuver if the need arises.”
The merchant lich troll incanted a spell of shielding.
“Protex!”
A red ring of warding covered the perimeter of the sizeable party. The warriors drew and wielded their respective weapons.
A number of the pillars writhed across the water and stood on the shore. They hesitated for a moment, then assumed humanoid forms, much like the Gaeans. The composition of the magical entities was simple. Each translucent figure was arbitrarily amorphous. They contained blue and red nuclei with nerve fibers under their skin-like outer membranes.
Reflecting the appearance of the fighters, the underground creatures positioned their nuclei within their head-like extensions, thus mimicking the eyes of the troll folk.
The largest of the beings hummed a bass vibration that resembled speech.
“We heard you vertebrates communicating and will attempt to meld our language with yours. We are Morphozoids. Our colony has sensed magical turbulence shaking through the boulders above. We have already discussed the ramifications of these signs among ourselves and expected the arrival of the forces that countermanded the machinations of the Gorgon King and his Summoner Mistress.”
“The aggressive wolf creatures and spherical beholders have disturbed our rest and Council many times. The Principle Amoebids are glad you’re here. Call me Driptwist. I’ve been delegated to assist you in bringing an end to the disturbances that emanate above.”
“Very well, Morphozoid Driptwist,” Reoren answered. “Forgive our surprise at the emergence of you strange creatures.”
The gaunt lich troll gestured casually, dissolving his precautionary barrier.
“You look just as weird to us, Friend,” Driptwist replied. “It will benefit you to know that I can direct you to a tunnel. It will take us upward, ultimately to the Throne Room of the Gorgon King himself.”
“This is good news,” answered Bjorn. “Let us venture onward and meet up with our friends.”
The band of Gaeans followed the gelatinous being along the edge of the lake housing the colony of amorphous creatures. They entered a narrow passage that spiraled upward.
The amicable Morphozoid led the fighters in a steady march for some time. At last they reached the place where Gilead and Alex brought down the steel door blocking Guardon’s Chamber. The number of warriors strode within and beheld the black, clay seal filling the space where the gong seal had been. The portal to the Ghastly Fens stood open over the proscenium.
“Alas, the gong seal is breached,” said Gnoll. “For ages it stood. There is bound to be a war now. The Gaean mages did what they could to close the portal to the Plane of Chaos. Their barrier will not hold, for the forces that Skjold spoke of are desperate to tap the resources of the Orb of Paryphax and the Denizens of the Higher Realms.”
Nighthawk examined Guardon’s dais.
“There is a note here, where Guardon sat,” said the Goblin Sergeant.
His fellow goblins accompanied him as he pulled Sharon’s jeweled dagger from the throne. The pallid humanoids looked over the attached note and handed it to Bjorn.
“This message was written by the Baroness,” the halfling declared. “She, Gilead and the others from their party have passed through the portal which remains here. They await our return on the other side. I will enter a postscript of my own for Leif and Jalhi’s party when they arrive here. They will know to meet us at the encampment.”
Bjorn Roundtree reattached the note to the top of Guardon’s throne.
The various fighters grouped together as they passed through the spatial portal to the Ghastly Fens.
***
Guardon grappled with his father as they plummeted into the Plane of Chaos. The spatial portal opened by the Ephemeral Specters hovered as a disk in the sky above the volcanic earth. The temple of the red dragon reached upward from a hundred yards below.
Thoth howled in frustration as he perceived the insertion of the blocking plug into the place where the gong seal had been.
“Do not hinder me, My Son. The time is at hand to deal with the Lesser Planes as we will.”
The monstrous, winged Demigod spewed acid flame from his maw. Guardon was familiar with this method of attack and boxed his father’s horned head aside, causing the spray of green fire to stream haphazardly into the violet clouds.
Flotsam and Jetsam raced ahead of the struggling pair and swooped into the Drystyx Temple through two of the windows in the highest echelon of the black, stone tower. The Council of Drystyx Monks waited at an oval-shaped table within. They had a scrying glass of their own. The sorcerers had concerted their arcane energies upon it to stay updated through the eyes of the pair of entities summoned by Themistokles.
The Monks wore black robes and represented a variety of races, some of whom were too large to sit at the table and crouched on the floor instead.
Flotsam addressed the Wizards of Chaos.
“Drystyx Monks! Make haste for Thoth struggles above with Guardon. The gong seal in the Gorgon Plane is breached. Let us act and claim the Lesser Planes for our own purposes. We have slain Ankharet, the Arkadian Summoner in her Abyssal Cairn. The fortress in the Gaean wilderness is now under the control of Rauros and the goblins of Mount Crow. Fly with us to the firmament above and come to the aid of our Demigod.”
Zolgnath, a firbolg, was the Leader of the Monks.
He addressed his companions in a booming voice.
“Now is the time for us to act, My Brethren. The Energies of Chaos, which all of us serve, are reaching the peak of their assertion. The accursed gong seal that has kept us separated from the other planes is now eradicated. Let us leave this tower and take our place at the side of Thoth.”
The Drystyx Monks followed the advice of the specters and their Leader and raised themselves into the air using a levitation spell.
“Levtos!” cried the sorcerers.
The dark-robed wizards became immersed in clouds of green electricity. They hovered above the oval council table then turned and flew out the large windows of the tall tower. The Drystyx Monks left sparkling trails in the air behind them as they spiraled upward to the dueling pair.
Guardon and Thoth continued to fight each other. Both of their hides bore gashes and wounds from their lacerating claws. Zolgnath was the first to reach the dragon and daemon.
“Stop fighting!” yelled the large firbolg.
He uttered a harnessing spell.
“Gorgax!”
The other Monks reached the height of the battle and focused their magic on the spell.
Zolgnath used his hands to direct a crimson tendril at the massive, red dragon. The cord of energy wrapped around the muscular arms and torso of the beast. He was no longer able to attack Guardon. The daemon flapped his wings in one position as he spoke to the Drystyx Monks.
“Greetings, Black Wizards. It has been eons since we last met. As I’m sure you’re aware the gong seal has been breached by these entities.”
(CONTINUED IN ORDER & CHAOS pt. 11)
“So be it, Guardon,” replied Lord Taliesin. “Your wolf creatures were creating a great nuisance to the welfare of our livestock and crops. It is unfortunate that the renegade troll woman could not be assuaged with peaceful means. If you agree to leave our lands free of harassment then we have no quarrel.”
“That does not include us, Humanoids.”
Flotsam and Jetsam flew into the chamber from a window overlooking the red hills.
“We act at the behest of Thoth. He brought Guardon here ages ago and wishes that the rift be re-opened to the Plane of Chaos.”
“Do not attempt that, Specters,” ordered the Daemon Lord. “Thoth fathered me in ancient times but is too unruly an entity to be allowed access to Gaea or this plane. Your intentions will bring the destruction of the Dharmic Equilibrium as we know it.”
“So be it. The Drystyx Monks have their own agenda. They will fill in the Ethereal Offices held by you and the troll folk. Clear the way, now, so that we may rupture the gong seal at your feet.”
“I refuse,” Guardon answered, “and I’m sure these Gaeans reflect my sentiments.”
“Verily, Daemon Lord,” Taliesin entoned.
The mercenaries wielded their weapons. Gilead, the Key Mage of Coermantyr, assailed the specters with a harnessing spell.
“Mezclix!”
A luminescent, red matrix appeared before the adept mage. He gestured toward the specters with his hands and the mesh hurled forward. It wrapped itself around the translucent beings, restraining their movement as they hovered over the seal.
“This is an outrage,” cried Jetsam. “I demand that you leave us. We will not be thwarted by your childish pranks.”
Guardon rose from his throne and strode quickly to the struggling specters. He grabbed their restraining net and hurled the bundle against the wall. The blue of the entities and the red of the matrix burst into a cloud of magical fragments. The Daemon Lord flung his arms through the Ephemeral Mist in an attempt to prevent the specters from reconstituting.
His plan did not work. The fragments that had been Flotsam and Jetsam swirled together in a homegenous mass. The blue energy condensed into an angular, drill shape. It spun rapidly as it descended, boring a large hole through the gong seal at the floor of the chamber. As the tip of the spiral broke through the other side of the barrier a vent of steam jetted into the room. Guardon and the Gaeans were thrown against the walls, losing their balance. A jagged crease ran across the diameter of the magic seal. It split in a thundering boom and was ripped downward into the Plane of Chaos.
Electric bolts writhed from the rift. A voice rumbled into the throne room.
“Your work is done, My Son. Return to our abode. My monks and I will secure this plane for our own purposes.”
A pair of gargantuan, clawed hands gripped the sides of the rift. A great, red, draconian head rose into the room. The air was permeated with an acrid, sulphuric odor.
“No, Father,” Guardon answered, “You are not meant to venture here. The Dharmic Equilibrium of the Mandala of the Planes exists to maintain a kharmic balance among the cosmic energies. You know this as well as I. I will prevent you from usurping these higher planes for they are neutral ground in the System of Worlds.”
The winged daemon flew over the rift and grappled his father’s massive head. He wrestled and twisted it. The manifestation of Thoth in dragon form howled with frustration. His red, horned head shook from side to side violently but Guardon would not release his grip.
Guardon addressed the Gaeans from his awkward position.
“Mercenaries, return to your plane. You must regroup and return here. I will seal this breach but it will not last. My father is ambitious and won’t be turned easily from this opportunity.”
The bronze-skinned Leader of the Gorgons gestured into the Throne Room with a free hand. A spatial rift opened. On the other side stood the Crossroads of the Ghastly Fens.
Guardon flapped his leathery wings forcefully and pushed Thoth down into the Plane of Chaos. Lord Taliesin and his friends heard the cries and howls of the titanic battle from above. Gusts of caustic flame and pummeled beholders were flung from the rift. A silver disc of magic appeared in the place where the gong seal had been. It congealed and became a plug of hardened, black clay. The cacophony of the feud between father and son was cut off.
The Gaeans looked at one another as they rose to their feet. Their breath and weapons were the only audible sounds.
“Alas, broken the gong seal is. Return to Gaea we should. Strong the Lore Masters are and Siegemunde too. Help us they can and prepare us they will for the coming War of the Planes,” The Watcher said.
He shook his head and lifted his modest travel pack for the return home.
“The halfling is correct,” observed the Baroness of Coermantyr. “Our ancestors waged campaigns of this nature. We must consult with the historic tomes and gain the advice of the Council of Mages. Bjorn Roundtree and the others will eventually arrive in this Chamber and return to the Crossroads. I will leave a note for them to return to our Home Plane and meet us in the Burial Ruins of the lich folk.”
Lady Redthorne scrawled her message on a sheet of parchment. She posted the letter at the head of Guardon’s throne with a jeweled dagger.
“That is appropriate, Baroness. We all can use some rest and a solid meal before dealing with these Drystyx Monks. Let’s go, My Friends. There is yet much work to do,” said Lord Taliesin.
The mercenaries marched through Guardon’s spatial breach. They were relieved to set foot on Gaean soil. Alex and Oxholm gathered what dry wood they could find to build a campfire. The fighters gazed at the crimson-edged portal from time to time. It was impossible to conceal their concern for Bjorn and their other comrades yet to emerge from Guardon’s Spires.
***
Bjorn stood at the end of another long hallway. A sequence of torches burned brightly. Whoever lit them was nowhere to be seen. The halfling looked toward the end of the lengthy passage.
“This fortress is mysterious,” declared Reoren. “I have not previously encountered such a structure. Its builders surely intended to confuse and deflect any would-be invaders.”
A band of Stalactite Orcs and Lykanthros rushed through the doorway at the opposite end of the hall. A trio of large beholders accompanied them; each of the stone-colored beasts was at least ten feet in diameter.
The pale humanoids were short and quick. They carried curved lances and sprinted down the brightly lit corridor. The orcs clashed with the armored Knights of Mystic Down and Coermantyr.
The sound of the ensuing melee echoed along the walls, making it seem louder than it already was. The Knights of Coermantyr parried the thrusting blades of the orcs tactfully and counter-attacked a number of them. A pair of the jagged-toothed creatures was stabbed severely and slumped to the floor, unconscious. The soldiers of Mystic Down opted for broadswords and swung at the Lykanthros aggressively. They lunged forward at the slavering wolf creatures, dipping so far that a knee touched the floor. As the tips of their blades penetrated the hairy bodies of the Lykanthros they twisted their swords before turning and rendering a fatal blow to the head.
Sponge, Anemone and the blue-skinned merfolk ran in from the flanks. They employed their curved daggers to finish off the grappling wolf beasts.
Reoren and Gearzon rushed at the giant beholders. The single-eyed creatures cast circular shadows on the walls and ceiling as they hovered to the warriors. The gnome engineer clutched weighty wrenches in his strong hands. He wasn’t tall enough to attack them face-to-face but swung his steel tools upward from below. The claws of his wrenches broke through the tough tissue of the beasts. When he pulled them free to swing again he was covered in a cascade of green blood. The beholder he was targeting howled in pain and rotated to identify its attacker. As soon as the giant eye was in range Gearzon struck it hard.
Bjorn assailed the spherical creatures with sharpened stones hurled from his sling. Several of the howling gorgons were gashed deep wounds by the missiles and slumped lifeless to the floor.
Gnoll and the strong wood trolls came to the aid of their gnome friend. They battled the beholders with the help of Nighthawk’s goblins and vanquished them. The fighters peered down the hallway in which they stood.
“The malevolence of this massive fortress is palpable,” said the Arborean Guard. “It represents a negative energy that is surely meant to drain Gaea of its resources. Our friends are moving through this stronghold in separate paths. They must converge at the Throne Room of the Gorgon King. Let’s move onward and learn what we can of the architecture of this mountainous structure.”
The friends marched on. They came upon a steel door. It had an ornate knob designed to resemble a gargoyle’s head. The halfling, Bjorn, beckoned to Reoren, the lich merchant, to approach.
“Give us some light, Ghoul Troll. There is a mechanism in this knob which may be convinced to open the portal.”
“Certainly, Bjorn,” answered the tall trader.
The amateur magic user incanted a spell of illumination.
“Lumus, luminares!”
The cloaked Gaean acquired a halo of golden light. It shone brightly and allowed the halfling to focus on the task at hand. Bjorn withdrew a small set of tools from his travel pack. He tinkered within the metal teeth of the gargoyle knob. The sound of twisting gears was followed by a loud snap as the bolts were thrown free of the cinderblock wall. The halfling gripped the knob in his pudgy hands and twisted it forcefully. It rotated in a semicircle and the door opened inward.
The fighters beheld a vast cavern. It reached far into the hewn rock of Guardon’s Spires. The limits of the rift in the Under Earth lay beyond the range of Reoren’s light. A myriad of stalagmites and stalactites penetrated the environment.
“It must have taken centuries for these mineral columns to form from the dripping water,” said Gearzon.
“There are similar structures in the Arkadian mountains. I’m sure orcs and goblins would be as much at home here as they are in their Native Region,” Nighthawk observed.
“I sense a magical disturbance above us,” said Anemone. “The Orb of Paryphax hums from the conflict.”
The merwoman withdrew the glinting sphere from her bodice and dangled it from her webbed fingers. The crystalline orb shimmered with waves of undulating light. Its emanations ranged from deep crimson to bright green.
“Skjold’s Orb has always been highly responsive to flaring sorcery,” Gnoll entoned. “When he lived he frequently warned us of impending storms and blizzards days in advance.”
“I detect the struggle within the Planar Mandala as well, My Friends,” said Reoren.
The tall lich troll directed his view upward as he attempted to focus on the source of the rippling energy.
“Lord Taliesin and Baroness Sharon have reached Guardon’s Throne Room. I’m sure of it,” declared Anemone. “There is a driving energy pushing at the gong seal far above us. Umihito spoke of it many times as an ancient barrier between the Gorgon Plane and the Plane of Chaos. I fear that the magicians who sought the Orb of Paryphax took drastic measures to retrieve it. It may well have proven their undoing. I perceive untamed entities that grind at the aged seal with their own volition and motives.”
A turbulent temblor shook through the walls and floor. Numbers of boulders and stalactites were dislodged from the stone ceiling and plummeted aimlessly to the distant ground. The agile Gaeans evaded the falling rock deftly. Chunks of ore and minerals shattered into chalky fragments when they collided with the chamber floor at high speed.
“The seal has been breached!” cried Anemone.
Her merfolk supported her as she swooned from the shock of the rending of the Dharmic Equilibrium.
“I suspect this is the result of the tampering of the specters that Themistokles summoned in Mystic Down to retrieve the orb. They are not of this plane or Gaea. The entities must work at the bidding of Thoth and the Drystyx Monks who attend him,” said Bjorn.
“Our Regions remain in jeopardy as long as the planes are linked. At all else we should rendezvous with our friends and return to the Council Chamber of the Lore Masters. Restadicus can help us still and consult with his fellow mages to find a way to bring harmony to our lands.”
The earthquake stopped and the warriors marched forward into the spacious cavern. Bjorn noticed the terrain vaulted downward precipitously, forcing the travelers to take care not to lose their balance.
The stone outcroppings protruding from the pebbly soil became large and monolithic. Another wave of energy permeated the chamber with increased intensity. The Gaeans lost their footholds and struggled to grasp the great boulders in order to regain their balance. The rocks tilted inward.
“Beware, My Friends!” Gearzon yelled. “Stay away from these pillars lest you be crushed.”
The stones closed in upon the fighters unimpeded. Despite the warning of the gnome engineer they were unable to roll free. The boulders rose upward violently. A giant, granite face peered down at the mercenaries with glowing, amethyst eyes.
A booming, female voice laughed.
“I have you now, Fleshlings. Your raucous stumbling awakened me from my slumber. I am Petra. What business have you this deep in The Spires of the Gorgon King?”
“We are here to bring about an era of peace in our Regions,” said Bjorn. “The random, spatial rifts that appeared throughout Gaea trapped us here. Our races have united with the intention of sealing the invasive breaches that Guardon and Ankharet have been using to usurp and harass our villages.”
“Release us from your grip, if you please, Stone Giant. We have business to attend to within this fortress and cannot linger here,” said Nighthawk.
“As you wish, Warriors. You seem harmless enough. Terranoids are cautious folk and have thrived within this mineral-laden earth for eons. The recent turbulence from the opened breach above has created a disharmony among us as I’m sure you have also detected,” Petra said.
She lowered her massive, rocky hands to the pebbly ground and allowed the many Knights and fighters to disembark.
“The power struggle within the Planar Mandala continues. There is sure to be a fight now that the great seal has been shattered. In ages past, Gaean wizards stood here as you do now with the same goals in mind. They succeeded in ending the invasions conducted by Thoth. Until recently his devious agenda has been sequestered to the Plane of Chaos. I regret that the meddling of the Summoners above has brought about this new challenge. You look like a collection of hardy and stalwart individuals. If anyone is up to the task of liberating the planes surely it is you,” the stone giant declared.
The mountainous Terranoid addressed Anemone.
“Merwoman, I have a favor to ask of you. Please entrust me with the Orb of Paryphax. The rifts between the planes have become numerous now and are certain to see the passage of opposing forces in the near future. I will secure the orb of the late Wood Mage in the Terranoid Midden. It will remain safe until such time as the wood trolls have established tranquility in Arborea. I promise to then return it to the tower of its creation.”
“That is a good idea, Petra. We have studied tablets describing the Terranoid race in our coral libraries. You are a trustworthy people and can help us to keep the orb out of the wrong hands.”
The blue-skinned Aegean lifted the orb and chain from her neck and strode to the massive, stone hand of the giant woman. She climbed onto the granite palm and lay the orb there. Anemone returned to her companions.
“We will venture further into this cavern, Stone Giant,” declared Bjorn. “Our friends can use our help above and each of us misses home. We will consult with Restadicus and the Lore Masters of Coermantyr upon our return to Gaea. They will devise a plan of action to set things straight for all of us. You have our thanks.”
“Very well, Fleshlings. We will await your return,” Petra rumbled.
The subterranean chamber beyond Petra’s Midden widened further. The stalagmites and stalactites extending from the floor and ceiling achieved gargantuan proportions. The minerals from which they had solidified contained multicolored shards of metal and silicon. As the light of Reoren’s magic halo flickered past the columns they sparkled with purple and green crystals.
“The solidity of this Realm is tangible,” said Nighthawk. “Whatever primordial forces created Gaea installed just as much energy into this Gorgon Plane and perhaps others as well.”
The goblin soldier’s expression reflected his amazement at the size of the great cavern.
“I wonder if Guardon’s Lykanthros and beholders had the courage to venture this deep into the structure of The Spires,” Bjorn pondered aloud. “Reoren, is there any chance you can intensify the light of your incantation? This morass is wide. I sense a draft and moisture in the air. A large body of water must be close.”
“I will do as you suggest, My Halfling Friend. I have reviewed my arcane manual since our arrival in this plane.”
The skeletal lich troll uttered a different sorcery.
“Luminex!”
His halo became a disk of light, much like the rings around planets he’d seen through Siegemunde’s spyglass. The mercenaries saw clearly to the outer limits of the cave. They were indeed at the edge of a mysterious, iridescent lake. The syrupy surface of the water reflected the light strangely. The ubiquitous breeze created ripples that shone red and blue to the naked eye.
“This pool radiates in an unusual manner,” Gnoll observed. “It may not be wise to drink of it.”
“I’ll test it,” Bjorn volunteered.
The spritely halfling strode across the pebbly beach to the edge of the natural reservoir. He dipped his furry toe into the meniscus. It generated a sequence of waves that reached across the surface. The ripples broadened and rebounded off the opposing shores. As the waves initiated by Bjorn returned to where the warriors stood they bubbled and coalesced.
“Be careful, My Allies,” Sponge warned. “This lake is not as it seems. There are living entities at work here.”
In verification of the Aegean Captain’s words, cylindrical columns rose from the body of water.
“Look at the ceiling!” Gearzon cried.
A second lake of equal magnitude pooled on the top of the immense cavern. Similar, gelatinous columns descended from the surface aloft. They met and intertwined with those on the bottom and formed a myriad of glowing pillars. The largest cylinders mingled at the center of the two reservoirs.
Reoren beckoned to the Knights of Coermantyr, Mystic Down and Aegea.
“Gather before me, Staunch Soldiers. We must prepare ourselves for a defensive maneuver if the need arises.”
The merchant lich troll incanted a spell of shielding.
“Protex!”
A red ring of warding covered the perimeter of the sizeable party. The warriors drew and wielded their respective weapons.
A number of the pillars writhed across the water and stood on the shore. They hesitated for a moment, then assumed humanoid forms, much like the Gaeans. The composition of the magical entities was simple. Each translucent figure was arbitrarily amorphous. They contained blue and red nuclei with nerve fibers under their skin-like outer membranes.
Reflecting the appearance of the fighters, the underground creatures positioned their nuclei within their head-like extensions, thus mimicking the eyes of the troll folk.
The largest of the beings hummed a bass vibration that resembled speech.
“We heard you vertebrates communicating and will attempt to meld our language with yours. We are Morphozoids. Our colony has sensed magical turbulence shaking through the boulders above. We have already discussed the ramifications of these signs among ourselves and expected the arrival of the forces that countermanded the machinations of the Gorgon King and his Summoner Mistress.”
“The aggressive wolf creatures and spherical beholders have disturbed our rest and Council many times. The Principle Amoebids are glad you’re here. Call me Driptwist. I’ve been delegated to assist you in bringing an end to the disturbances that emanate above.”
“Very well, Morphozoid Driptwist,” Reoren answered. “Forgive our surprise at the emergence of you strange creatures.”
The gaunt lich troll gestured casually, dissolving his precautionary barrier.
“You look just as weird to us, Friend,” Driptwist replied. “It will benefit you to know that I can direct you to a tunnel. It will take us upward, ultimately to the Throne Room of the Gorgon King himself.”
“This is good news,” answered Bjorn. “Let us venture onward and meet up with our friends.”
The band of Gaeans followed the gelatinous being along the edge of the lake housing the colony of amorphous creatures. They entered a narrow passage that spiraled upward.
The amicable Morphozoid led the fighters in a steady march for some time. At last they reached the place where Gilead and Alex brought down the steel door blocking Guardon’s Chamber. The number of warriors strode within and beheld the black, clay seal filling the space where the gong seal had been. The portal to the Ghastly Fens stood open over the proscenium.
“Alas, the gong seal is breached,” said Gnoll. “For ages it stood. There is bound to be a war now. The Gaean mages did what they could to close the portal to the Plane of Chaos. Their barrier will not hold, for the forces that Skjold spoke of are desperate to tap the resources of the Orb of Paryphax and the Denizens of the Higher Realms.”
Nighthawk examined Guardon’s dais.
“There is a note here, where Guardon sat,” said the Goblin Sergeant.
His fellow goblins accompanied him as he pulled Sharon’s jeweled dagger from the throne. The pallid humanoids looked over the attached note and handed it to Bjorn.
“This message was written by the Baroness,” the halfling declared. “She, Gilead and the others from their party have passed through the portal which remains here. They await our return on the other side. I will enter a postscript of my own for Leif and Jalhi’s party when they arrive here. They will know to meet us at the encampment.”
Bjorn Roundtree reattached the note to the top of Guardon’s throne.
The various fighters grouped together as they passed through the spatial portal to the Ghastly Fens.
***
Guardon grappled with his father as they plummeted into the Plane of Chaos. The spatial portal opened by the Ephemeral Specters hovered as a disk in the sky above the volcanic earth. The temple of the red dragon reached upward from a hundred yards below.
Thoth howled in frustration as he perceived the insertion of the blocking plug into the place where the gong seal had been.
“Do not hinder me, My Son. The time is at hand to deal with the Lesser Planes as we will.”
The monstrous, winged Demigod spewed acid flame from his maw. Guardon was familiar with this method of attack and boxed his father’s horned head aside, causing the spray of green fire to stream haphazardly into the violet clouds.
Flotsam and Jetsam raced ahead of the struggling pair and swooped into the Drystyx Temple through two of the windows in the highest echelon of the black, stone tower. The Council of Drystyx Monks waited at an oval-shaped table within. They had a scrying glass of their own. The sorcerers had concerted their arcane energies upon it to stay updated through the eyes of the pair of entities summoned by Themistokles.
The Monks wore black robes and represented a variety of races, some of whom were too large to sit at the table and crouched on the floor instead.
Flotsam addressed the Wizards of Chaos.
“Drystyx Monks! Make haste for Thoth struggles above with Guardon. The gong seal in the Gorgon Plane is breached. Let us act and claim the Lesser Planes for our own purposes. We have slain Ankharet, the Arkadian Summoner in her Abyssal Cairn. The fortress in the Gaean wilderness is now under the control of Rauros and the goblins of Mount Crow. Fly with us to the firmament above and come to the aid of our Demigod.”
Zolgnath, a firbolg, was the Leader of the Monks.
He addressed his companions in a booming voice.
“Now is the time for us to act, My Brethren. The Energies of Chaos, which all of us serve, are reaching the peak of their assertion. The accursed gong seal that has kept us separated from the other planes is now eradicated. Let us leave this tower and take our place at the side of Thoth.”
The Drystyx Monks followed the advice of the specters and their Leader and raised themselves into the air using a levitation spell.
“Levtos!” cried the sorcerers.
The dark-robed wizards became immersed in clouds of green electricity. They hovered above the oval council table then turned and flew out the large windows of the tall tower. The Drystyx Monks left sparkling trails in the air behind them as they spiraled upward to the dueling pair.
Guardon and Thoth continued to fight each other. Both of their hides bore gashes and wounds from their lacerating claws. Zolgnath was the first to reach the dragon and daemon.
“Stop fighting!” yelled the large firbolg.
He uttered a harnessing spell.
“Gorgax!”
The other Monks reached the height of the battle and focused their magic on the spell.
Zolgnath used his hands to direct a crimson tendril at the massive, red dragon. The cord of energy wrapped around the muscular arms and torso of the beast. He was no longer able to attack Guardon. The daemon flapped his wings in one position as he spoke to the Drystyx Monks.
“Greetings, Black Wizards. It has been eons since we last met. As I’m sure you’re aware the gong seal has been breached by these entities.”
(CONTINUED IN ORDER & CHAOS pt. 11)
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