The Yuan Where It All Goes Ti Shi...
Sept 5, 2019 17:58:11 GMT
Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar, Milo Brightmane, and 5 more like this
Post by Leif Tingle on Sept 5, 2019 17:58:11 GMT
Disembarking from the Venture, and leaving the weary crew to stretch their legs in Port Ffirst, Tugark begins the journey back to Daring Heights accompanied by Sunday and Baine. A few hours into the trip, Sunday and eLk take their leave and turn southeast, making for the dark-green tree line of the Feythorn forest.
About halfway between Daring and Port Ffirst, set a little way back from the road and at the head of a track leading off the main path, Tugark spots the signpost he was looking for.
Making his goodbyes to Baine, who mutters something about “needing to get back to Daring or he’ll have chewed the legs off the furniture”, Tugark turns off the main road and follows the track, winding his way through a sparse bank of trees. Eventually, he draws his horse up at the edge of a meadow - empty but for a solitary ash tree standing in the centre.
Drawing nearer the tree, he spots the shapes of two creatures sitting in its branches. Tugark dismounts and, unsure of a place to tie up the horse, leads it by the reigns towards the single ash. As he closes the distance, Tugark’s eye is drawn to a slight haze in the bark of the trunk; about 5ft across and 10ft high, rising up from the roots. As he carefully reaches his hand towards it, a discreet cough catches his attention. Looking up, he sees that the creatures, identical tawny owls, are peering down at him. “Ahem,” he clears his throat and calls out, “is this where I can find Oriloki?”
The owl on the left starts to say in a haughty voice “And who are you who thinks himself so bold as to approach our cha…”
“Oh, do be quiet, Tertius,“ the owl on the right interrupts, in a lighter, more jovial tone. “We know full well who Tugark is. And besides, it’s the middle of working hours - anyone is welcome to enter.”
The same owl looks down at Tugark and continues, “Our apologies, Master Tugark. You are indeed in the right place, please do step in. Feel free to leave your mount here: we shall watch over it, and there’s grass aplenty.”
“Thank you.” Tugark gives a small, respectful bow towards the owls. The two owls bob their heads in response. “Never simple with these mages...” Tugark mutters under his breath as he walks through the haze.
Once inside, Tugark blinks to adjust. Portals and teleportation are rife in Kantas, but it is still an unusual feeling to be moved magically. And this instance felt less like the usual inter-planar jump – and more like stepping through a dry shower. Tugark finds himself in a room resembling an antechamber or waiting area; a perfect cube, 10ft by 10ft by 10ft. The floor comprises neat, unadorned stone paving; the walls seem to be made from marble and are similarly pattern-less. Immediately across from Tugark are two identical doors; either side of the doors, and lining the wall to his left, are a number of chairs: functional but comfortable – and all empty. To Tugark’s right is a desk of simple, dark wood; behind that sits a translucent, scaled-down, perfect replica of Oriloki – intricate tattoos and all – with a badge reading “78” on it.
The right-hand door across from the Tugark opens and a full-size Oriloki walks in, waving a hand at his smaller counterpart beginning to rise from their seat behind the desk. “As we were, #78; We’ll take it from here.” The goliath moves towards Tugark, extending a hand as he approaches. “Master Tugark? We’ve heard all about you; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Allow us to introduce ourselves: I am Oriloki Secundus – how can we help you today?”
“Master Oriloki,” Tugark replies, “I’ve come to consult your experience.”
“Of course, of course. We offer a number of services here: both as a part of and apart from the Council, aha. Would you be here in relation to our official diplomatic position; or as a private consultant in the matter of all things arcane and some things not?”
“Private consultation for now I think. We discovered a strange artefact on an island about five days south/southeast of Port Ffirst, having received instruction from a local cartographer that there was an island of note in that area. Well, through the mist we certainly found an island, and we even found ruins of a settlement within. Under those ruins we discovered a statue and chest. There was also a demon with the statue. A big angry blue thing, spat something about his master, Glasya, before we killed him.”
Secundus recoils slightly, “Gosh, how unpleasant. We assume it is this statue you would like us to examine..." He looks around for it. "Or was there something else?”
“The statue was of a full-sized snake-person.” Tugark replies. “Too large to bring back with us at the time, as we were not prepared for a dig. The statue was a cobra-like head on a humanoid body. But inside its chest we found this item.” Tugark pulls out the ornate, sealed leather tube from his bag. “If you have any experience with such things, or any insight to give I would gladly receive it, for a fee of course.” He offers the tube to Secundus.
Secundus’ eyes light up at the sight of the tube and he reaches for it; he is about to say something when his eyes lose focus, listening to a voice Tugark can’t hear. After a moment or two, Secundus refocuses, frowns, and pouts. “If you would be so good as to follow us; we want to have a look at this.” The goliath walks over to the left-hand door, opens it, and gestures through. “Please do step this way.”
Tugark is lead through the door into another chamber of equal dimensions to the first: 10x10x10. This room has just one other door - directly opposite. There are three more, translucent, human-sized copies of Oriloki in this room, with badges reading #s 23, 31, & 87. There are also some glyphs worked into the walls, floor, and ceiling. Secundus weaves a path through these magic inscriptions, instructing Tugark to follow closely and “step only where we do, please.” Without knocking, Secundus opens the door and walks through, waiting for Tugark to follow, and then closes the door behind him.
“Ah, Master Tugark,“ says the Oriloki rising from behind a desk - the room’s only item of furniture apart from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining every wall. “Good to see you again.”
“And you,” Tugark looks back towards all the other Orilokis he passed, “again.”
Oriloki follows Tugark’s glance. “Ha, I see you’ve met Oriloki Secundus. He’s what we in the business call a Simulation. There’s a third running about somewhere. They're copies of me - helps me get more work done. The smaller versions are just mindless servants: capable of menial tasks but nothing more. I am Oriloki Genesis, the first one. Please call me Ori. Can I offer you a drink?”
A month or so later, Ori walks into his study reading from a parchment clutched in one hand, a steaming mug of tea in the other. He scoffs “Pah, what a fool you are, Elminster! Everyone knows Rary's Telepathic Bond cannot work in conjunction with a Gith mindmeld. Utter piffle.” and tosses the sheaf into a receptacle at the base of his desk. Secundus enters close behind him and shuts the door. Setting the tea down, Ori sits in his chair and turns his attention to a curious contraption in the centre of the desk that Secundus had set up earlier.
It is a small plinth about a foot long with four, 10-inch columns rising perpendicular from each corner. In between them, suspended and slowly revolving in the empty air, is the tube Tugark gave him.
The cylinder itself is made of heavy leather, very old, but still capable of keeping its contents safe and dry. It is sealed with a sigil of a cobra head. After a few minutes’ careful examination from a distance, Ori sits back in his chair and raises his hands in front of him with his palms facing the tube. On each palm is a tattoo of a closed eye. As he closes his actual eyes, the lines of these inked images start to move, opening and blinking as the pupils focus on the tube. Ori begins to slowly move his hands around the tube, being careful not to touch it.
After ten or so minutes, Ori lowers his hands and opens his eyes again. “Interesting.” He mutters to himself. “If I'm not mistaken, this sigil is an effigy of Merrshaulk, one of the many Yuan-Ti deities.”
"Yes, thank us, we know who it is." Secundus mutters, as he walks to a shelf on the left-hand wall and runs his hands over the spines of a number of books as Ori continues his commentary. “I can sense some incredibly strong warding magic intertwined with this item. Stronger than anything I’ve ever encountered.” Finally picking a particular tome, Secundus brings it over to the desk, hands it to Ori, and goes off to one side to stand in the centre of a glyph inscribed in the floor.
Ori settles himself in his chair and opens the book somewhere near the back. With his eyes fixed on a particular page, he raises his right hand in front of his chest, palm facing inwards. On the back of his right hand is the tattoo of an empty pentagram. Ori closes his eyes and
...feeling all physical sensation and awareness start to recede, Ori’s inner arcane self awakens, rising to its third form. He finds himself ‘standing’ in a featureless, colourless void utterly devoid of sound, shape, or light. And yet he can quite clearly ‘see’ an impossibly large magical ward stretching into the boundless distance in all ‘directions’. Ignoring a momentary, sourceless, ice-cold shiver that runs its disembodied fingers down his ‘spine’, Ori lets his power tentatively reach out to the barrier - and is brought up short a good ‘distance’ away, rebuffed by an unseen yet potent obstacle of some kind. Ori releases a little more of his magic, pushing his mystic consciousness up into its fifth level of awakening. At the edges of his ‘hearing’, a slight rustling noise becomes apparent. Unperturbed, Ori sinks further into the ward and breaches the sixth gate of his abilities as...
a slight frown crosses Ori’s face. “Shouldn’t require this much effort to dispel…” mutters Secundus, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably; uncertainly. The temperature in the room drops a degree or two. He folds his arms across his massive chest and mirrors the frown on his maker’s face as
...the rustling swells to a pronounced susurration and Ori strains ‘towards’ the gigantic barrier, pouring more and more of his will and his self into the effort. The seventh level opens to him easily - almost too willingly - and the aura around the ward bends... But it’s not enough. It still stands... He is aware he can only ascend safely one more level. In the back of his awareness, he can hear one of his tutors rambling on about what she called the kekkei genkai - the uppermost limit of one’s current abilities, and how “to reach even this level is to put immense pressure on the mind”... He pushes ‘forwards’ again as...
the door to the study opens and a third Oriloki steps in. “What’re we doing? We can feel the pressure from - ” He’s cut off by a quick “Hush, Tertius!” and a sharp slashing gesture from Secundus as the pentagram on Ori’s hand morphs into an “8” and a low hissing fills the room. Tertius quickly shuts the door and moves to an identical glyph across from Secundus. A moment later, a tattoo of a circle appears on the foreheads of both and starts to glow purple; the glyphs chime and the air around Secundus and Tertius distorts, protective bubbles coalescing round them both just as
...the roaring, spirant noise fills every inch of his being and, with a monumental push, Ori enters the 8th arcanae. Even ‘here’ in this void, Ori can feel his whole being scream with the undertaking. Finally, just as he feels the magic force of his efforts and the ward combining and turning to reject him, he melds with the barrier, joins with it, sinks into its fabric - but still can’t unravel it. He senses some...thing…? reaching out to meet him. But it’s just a tube, surely? he thinks to himself. This barrier is merely designed to stop those OUTSIDE getting IN, no? Unsure, he siphons off a fragment of his consciousness to reach back to his study and...
Ori croaks, “More...” Secundus and Tertius glance at one another; Tertius shrugs and leaves his protective bubble, walking round the desk and placing his right hand on Ori’s right shoulder. The pentagram tattoo on the back of Tertius’ hand also reforms into an ‘8’ as a jolt of power connects them both. The background hissing grows, and becomes...words, sibilant and horrifying, but indistinguishable, unintelligible. Even within the bubble, the hairs on Secundus' arms start to rise. A second later, he cries out in alarm as…
...feeling Tertius join him, Ori channels the additional arcane energy into a single spike, forcing a tiniest crack in the multiverse-encompassing ward and...
the atmosphere in the room changes…uncoils...
...an eye, gargantuan - inconceivable - in size, appears within the ward. It opens: a vicious, yellow, vertical pupil looks down at, into, and through Ori. It blinks once - slower than glaciers, quicker than quantum - refocuses on Ori and ‘speaks’... its ‘voice vibrating through Ori’s soul... “Now? Is it time? ...No... I don’t recognise you... Who are you? Come closer...”
Secundus barrels across the room, watching the other two go limp in an instant: Ori slumping across the desk, a thin line of purple-red blood running from his left eye; Tertius dropping to the ground beside him convulsing with a shrill keening cry, hands and feet thrashing arhythmically against the floor - the noise Tertius is making intertwines in ghastly harmony with the incessant background sibilant speech - now a screech in his ears; in his bones. Secundus vaults the desk, right arm drawn back and
...Ori and Tertius feel themselves reeled ‘inwards’ against their will. The sensation of innumerate, dry, constricting coils circles about them. Power seems to leech from them in a trickle… then a torrent… pouring into the crack in the ward, widening it. Neither can disentangle themselves. The eye grows immeasurably - the ward is splitting, like a maw opening to swallow them, to swallow the world, distending unfeasibly wide to devour hope - until…
CRACK!
Secundus’ fist strikes Ori’s jaw, snapping it to the side with an audible crunch of bone on bone.
...And the tether breaks! The ethereal coils tense and collapse in on themselves protectively. Ori’s power returns to him in a rush and he is flung back, back into reality…
...back into his body, as he slams into the chair and screeches across the flagstones of his office, crashing unconscious into the bookshelves behind him, tomes toppling around him. Prone on the floor, Tertius tries to drag himself up on the corner of the desk, but vomits in pain and fear - in naked relief - before falling back against the flagstones and passing out.
Silence… Stillness... Silence...
Secundus, breathing raggedly, staggers over to a replica map of Kantas on the wall, and slides aside Kundar to reveal a recess - from which he retrieves a bottle and a glass. Stepping over the pool of Tertius’ half-digested breakfast, he sets the glass on the desk and pours a generous measure.
“Not ideal.” He remarks, knocking the drink back, hands shaking violently.
An hour later, and Ori has mostly recovered. Scattered across the desk, untouched, are the tube and its contents: a spell scroll; a roll of parchment covered in strange, unsettling hieroglyphs that seem to move when glimpsed out of the corner of the eye; and a small velvet pouch.
As Ori raises his hands over the items, Secundus says: “Really? Again? Is this wise?”
Immediately, Tertius responds testily, “Don’t question us. We know what we’re doi…”
“Peace.” Ori interrupts, “We won’t get caught like that again.”
Secundus nods once, holding his hands up placatingly as Tertius picks up a quill and blank scroll. Ori waves his hand cursorily over the tube.
“Mundane.”
Tertius scribbles a small note. Ori moves onto the parchment.
“Mundane. But contains didactic writing.”
Tertius scribbles another note, as Ori’s hand hovers over the spell scroll.
“Abjuration. Potent. Familiar but unknown.”
Tertius keeps writing. Ori turns to the pouch and upends it. A ruby tumbles out... He holds his hand over it. And recoils momentarily; before persevering with his analysis.
“Type: Abjuration. Level: Critical. Source: Unknown. Threat: Perilous.” Ori snatches his hand back as if scalded. “Entity within.”
Leaving the ruby where it has landed, Ori sips from the mug of tea cooling beside him. Setting it down, he unravels the spell scroll and begins to read. As he deciphers the text, a frown crosses his face - then a grimace - then a look of disgust. Wearily he slumps back, wiping a trembling hand across a brow that is clammy and damp with sweat.
“Dictation. New spell encountered. Seemingly called ‘Constricting Coils of the Snake’. Beyond my level - through the 9th arcane gate of power. Similar to the standard but formidable Imprisonment spell. Adjustments have been made. Can sequester multiple targets in stasis as well as shielding them from magical and mundane detection. Modifications: the components required constitute main difference. Blood of 20 humanoid victims required within 10 minutes of their death; collected by a ritual blade.” Ori pauses for a second, re-reading a passage. “Clarification: ALL blood from subjects required; total drainage necessary.”
He almost tosses the spell scroll aside in revulsion and picks up the parchment with the strange inscriptions.
“New subject. Language... language unknown. Translation commencing.” Behind each of Ori’s ears, a tattoo of a mouth begins to open and close, and he cocks his head to one side.
“Language… Yuan-Ti..? Unknown dialect. Seems obscure. Secretive, maybe. Follows familiar pattern to high-level cultist screed. Not using the standard draconic alphabet, however. Holy text? Unlikely. Possible diary or log. Contents:” his eyes scan the page and his voice falters. “Conte… co…”
Secundus tenses and Tertius looks up from his scribing.
“Contents…oh my... Fuck.”
As one, all three scatter to various points on the bookshelves, haphazardly tossing scrolls and books and tomes aside in their search, occasionally ripping out a pertinent page and throwing it onto the desk. Their communication comes in fragments of half-audible, half-telepathic chatter; Oriloki’s many voices overlaying and cutting through each other.
“Check Mordenkai…” “Nothing!”
“Where’s a History of Merrsha…” “Yes/No/Corroborated by page 176 of Kantas’ Dangerous Creatures and Where to Fin…”
“Zealots from the” “hidden in gems” “Cobra in the Night Sky” “Only one?” “The Fiend Below” "duthrael and auvrael” “time.”
In two giant strides, Ori reaches the desk, and sweeps the ruby, spell scroll, and loose parchments into a bag. On his biceps, two identical tattoos of circles start to slowly spin in place. He vanishes from view; Tertius following a second behind.
Secundus walks over and picks up the chair Ori knocked over in his haste, muttering “We hate it when we do that.” and pops out of sight. The mug of tea at the edge of the desk is now ice cold.
“I don’t know!” Aurelia is saying to Rholor in a low, urgent whisper, one eye on the council functionaries scurrying about their business on either side. “He just appeared and said - demanded, actually - to meet now. Here. His message was very brief. And then he vanished.”
Rholor arches an eyebrow. “Same, same. Well, you know what he’s like. Genius? Yes. Powerful? Yes. Highly strung?”
“Absolutely!” Aurelia and Rholor say at the same time.
Their eyes meet and they share a brief, warm smile. Rholor looks on the verge of saying something else when the sound of sandals slapping heavily on flagstones draws their attention. They turn to see Ori hurry round the corner, robe flapping about him, waving a sheaf of parchments in his right hand and clutching a small velvet pouch in his left. He skids to a halt in front of them, wheezing.
“Thank you...meeting...urgent...go somewhere quiet…” He gasps out, bent almost double, hands on his knees.
“My chamber is free. We can go there.” Aurelia replies and leads the way through the corridors of the council building. Arriving at her offices, she ushers the other two inside before closing the door behind them. Rholor and Aurelia begin casting protective wards and barriers as Ori lays out a number of things on the desk: a ruby, a spell scroll, and two pieces of parchment - one covered in a neat, precise script, the other a map of a night sky. The goliath turns to face the other two as they finish casting their spells.
“I’ll be as concise as I can.” Ori waves his hand over the table. “Master Tugark and others found a number of items in an abandoned Yuan-Ti shrine. He brought them to me a month ago to examine. I only found the time today to turn my attention to them. They were wrapped in strong protective magic to keep me out - or so I thought. It was actually designed to keep something in - keep it safe in that gem.” He points at the ruby. “I almost broke the seal on that and released it before I realised what was happening. It saw me, felt my presence, and used me as an anchor to try and slither its way into this plane.”
Ori pauses for a moment, pain and embarrassment writ large on his tattooed face. “I would like to apologise. I was overly curious about the ward and rash enough to attempt to unravel it without warning others first. I would like to state that I did this on my own time and in my capacity as a private citizen - and not as a representative of the Watchful Order. But I apologise wholeheartedly for the danger in which I could have placed Kantas. I hope the information - the warning - I bring can repay that damage somewhat ”
“This,” Ori points to the parchment covered in neat writing, “is an extract from the diary of a high-ranking Yuan-Ti priest that I have just finished translating. It talks about the need to ‘save the priesthood from the Zealots from the West’: I assume these zealots to be a rival Yuan-Ti cabal trying to wipe out the author’s own sect. The tone is very prophetic and cryptic. It talks about a deal they did with an Archfiend to seal away Yuan-Ti priests in gems to keep them safe and hidden awaiting the right time to begin an awakening ritual. Awaken what, you ask?”
Ori seems to warm to his task, adopting a scholarly tone, his previous embarrassment seemingly forgotten.
“The last few paragraphs describe a vision of some sort. And I quote: ‘When the Cobra in the Night Sky opens his eyes, the Night Serpent will enter our dreams to claim all the vrael olo: both the auvrael and duthrael alike. Yet we know the Truth: the Serpent is One, only their names are many. Once awoken we shall reclaim our temples, cleanse them from the Zealots’ curses, and complete our rituals. When the One Serpent embraces us all, no more sacrifices will be needed, praised be the Serpent. The world will be finally at peace, embraced by the coils of the Serpent. Now I shall sleep a red sleep, waiting in my slumber to dream.’”
Ori stops and peers over his glasses at Aurelia and Rholor. Insufferably.
“I assume you follow the significance of all this, yes? Internecine religious squabbling is commonplace in the culture of the vrael olo. That’s the Yuan-Ti’s own word for themselves, by the way: it means ‘favoured ones’. Daily use typically employs the shortened vrael, and can be modified to auvrael, meaning ‘friendly’ or ‘known’ Yuan-Ti, or duthrael, denoting ‘unfriendly’ or ‘unfamiliar’ Yuan-Ti.”
“That sentence ‘Yet we know the Truth: the Serpent is One, only their names are many’ is most curious. Common knowledge of the serpentine pantheon holds that there are numerous deities often in open conflict with each other: Merrshaulk, Sseth, Dendar and so on. This parchment contends that all their gods are in fact one, and that He - Merrshaulk - is close to returning and will unite ALL vrael olo - ‘both the auvrael and duthrael alike’. Even the Zealots of the West against whom the writer and his ilk are contending. A fascinating revelation if true, and quite a departure from traditional, received thought. It will make quite a scintillating topic for my next Speculorum to the Order.”
“This,” and Ori moves his attention to the spell scroll, “is an inventive, heinous piece of magic; the result of the bargain with the unnamed Archfiend, I suspect. It reeks of the Hellish arcane. The diary goes on to say that ‘the stars have spoken, we shall not pay Her price, Merrshaulk has spoken through me: we shall be protected.’ It seems the Archfiend was not trusted by the priests and they double-crossed her somehow. It isn’t clear how or who.” Ori lifts a finger to push his spectacles back to the bridge of his nose.
“However, when they tried to retrieve these items, Tugark reported they were attacked by a fiend that Mistress Sunday recognised as being in service to Glasya. Somehow, the Lord of the Sixth is also involved in all this. That might explain the recent surge in fiendish activity we’re seeing, in my opinion. Anyway, the pact between the Archfiend and the priests created a modified version of the Imprisonment spell. Modified so it can be cast on multiple targets at once. The diary entry talks about how hundreds of humanoids - some willing, most not - were sacrificed simultaneously and utterly exsanguinated to seal numerous Yuan-Ti priests away in gems like that.” He points again at the ruby. “The ‘red dream of sleep’ mentioned in the diary.”
“There are most likely a number of gems out there - the journal extract does not specific exactly how many - keeping the priests safe until a propitious time and they can assemble to complete their rite. Some of the other gems may also already have been found, but their owners ignorant of what they are.” Ori nods to Rholor. “I read in the archives that Daring has experienced something like this before: the Fey Who Dreamt? Maybe the citizens and adventures of Kantas can be advised to be on the look-out for these gems?”
“And what of that propitious time I mentioned; this arrival of the ‘Cobra in the Night Sky’ that is so vital to vrael olo eschatology?” Oriloki says, lifting the final piece of parchment off the desk. “The phrase seemed familiar but I couldn’t recall where I’d heard it. Then I remembered a night at the Guilded Mirror. Leocanto was singing a rather rude song about an archer who shoots arrows at the posteriors of gods dwelling among the stars - one of the verses was about a Cobra god. There was a rather unwitty line about an ass and an asp.”
He hands the parchment to Rholor. “This is a map of the stars and constellations of Kantas from the council archives. My best guess is that the 'Cobra in the Night Sky’ might refer to the constellation of Faeraula - also known as the Serpent of the Sands, the Sword of the South, the Southfires, or the Lightning Bolt - the very same star that now burns over the Sunset Spines. And what might one find there? The diary I translated makes reference to The Book of Dreams and Nightmares, that the author seems to have consulted after receiving visions. He goes on to say he was commanded to burn it and the only other copy is hidden ‘at the Left Fang of the Cobra.’ I do not know what that book is or exactly where beneath the configuration it can be found; maybe it contains the ritual process to bring Merrshaulk back or seal Him away again. Either way, this concludes what I have currently uncovered and is the limit of what I feel comfortable surmising. I’m sorry it isn’t more...”
(Many thanks to Jon and Andy for editing and contributing; and to Guido for thinking up all this insanity!)
About halfway between Daring and Port Ffirst, set a little way back from the road and at the head of a track leading off the main path, Tugark spots the signpost he was looking for.
Oriloki Manyvoices
Arcane Auditor - 2nd Rank
Diplomancer - 3rd Rank
High Council of The Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors in Waterdeep
Arcane Consultant [pvt.]
Adventurer [retd.]
Drawing nearer the tree, he spots the shapes of two creatures sitting in its branches. Tugark dismounts and, unsure of a place to tie up the horse, leads it by the reigns towards the single ash. As he closes the distance, Tugark’s eye is drawn to a slight haze in the bark of the trunk; about 5ft across and 10ft high, rising up from the roots. As he carefully reaches his hand towards it, a discreet cough catches his attention. Looking up, he sees that the creatures, identical tawny owls, are peering down at him. “Ahem,” he clears his throat and calls out, “is this where I can find Oriloki?”
The owl on the left starts to say in a haughty voice “And who are you who thinks himself so bold as to approach our cha…”
“Oh, do be quiet, Tertius,“ the owl on the right interrupts, in a lighter, more jovial tone. “We know full well who Tugark is. And besides, it’s the middle of working hours - anyone is welcome to enter.”
The same owl looks down at Tugark and continues, “Our apologies, Master Tugark. You are indeed in the right place, please do step in. Feel free to leave your mount here: we shall watch over it, and there’s grass aplenty.”
“Thank you.” Tugark gives a small, respectful bow towards the owls. The two owls bob their heads in response. “Never simple with these mages...” Tugark mutters under his breath as he walks through the haze.
Once inside, Tugark blinks to adjust. Portals and teleportation are rife in Kantas, but it is still an unusual feeling to be moved magically. And this instance felt less like the usual inter-planar jump – and more like stepping through a dry shower. Tugark finds himself in a room resembling an antechamber or waiting area; a perfect cube, 10ft by 10ft by 10ft. The floor comprises neat, unadorned stone paving; the walls seem to be made from marble and are similarly pattern-less. Immediately across from Tugark are two identical doors; either side of the doors, and lining the wall to his left, are a number of chairs: functional but comfortable – and all empty. To Tugark’s right is a desk of simple, dark wood; behind that sits a translucent, scaled-down, perfect replica of Oriloki – intricate tattoos and all – with a badge reading “78” on it.
The right-hand door across from the Tugark opens and a full-size Oriloki walks in, waving a hand at his smaller counterpart beginning to rise from their seat behind the desk. “As we were, #78; We’ll take it from here.” The goliath moves towards Tugark, extending a hand as he approaches. “Master Tugark? We’ve heard all about you; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Allow us to introduce ourselves: I am Oriloki Secundus – how can we help you today?”
“Master Oriloki,” Tugark replies, “I’ve come to consult your experience.”
“Of course, of course. We offer a number of services here: both as a part of and apart from the Council, aha. Would you be here in relation to our official diplomatic position; or as a private consultant in the matter of all things arcane and some things not?”
“Private consultation for now I think. We discovered a strange artefact on an island about five days south/southeast of Port Ffirst, having received instruction from a local cartographer that there was an island of note in that area. Well, through the mist we certainly found an island, and we even found ruins of a settlement within. Under those ruins we discovered a statue and chest. There was also a demon with the statue. A big angry blue thing, spat something about his master, Glasya, before we killed him.”
Secundus recoils slightly, “Gosh, how unpleasant. We assume it is this statue you would like us to examine..." He looks around for it. "Or was there something else?”
“The statue was of a full-sized snake-person.” Tugark replies. “Too large to bring back with us at the time, as we were not prepared for a dig. The statue was a cobra-like head on a humanoid body. But inside its chest we found this item.” Tugark pulls out the ornate, sealed leather tube from his bag. “If you have any experience with such things, or any insight to give I would gladly receive it, for a fee of course.” He offers the tube to Secundus.
Secundus’ eyes light up at the sight of the tube and he reaches for it; he is about to say something when his eyes lose focus, listening to a voice Tugark can’t hear. After a moment or two, Secundus refocuses, frowns, and pouts. “If you would be so good as to follow us; we want to have a look at this.” The goliath walks over to the left-hand door, opens it, and gestures through. “Please do step this way.”
Tugark is lead through the door into another chamber of equal dimensions to the first: 10x10x10. This room has just one other door - directly opposite. There are three more, translucent, human-sized copies of Oriloki in this room, with badges reading #s 23, 31, & 87. There are also some glyphs worked into the walls, floor, and ceiling. Secundus weaves a path through these magic inscriptions, instructing Tugark to follow closely and “step only where we do, please.” Without knocking, Secundus opens the door and walks through, waiting for Tugark to follow, and then closes the door behind him.
“Ah, Master Tugark,“ says the Oriloki rising from behind a desk - the room’s only item of furniture apart from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining every wall. “Good to see you again.”
“And you,” Tugark looks back towards all the other Orilokis he passed, “again.”
Oriloki follows Tugark’s glance. “Ha, I see you’ve met Oriloki Secundus. He’s what we in the business call a Simulation. There’s a third running about somewhere. They're copies of me - helps me get more work done. The smaller versions are just mindless servants: capable of menial tasks but nothing more. I am Oriloki Genesis, the first one. Please call me Ori. Can I offer you a drink?”
***
A month or so later, Ori walks into his study reading from a parchment clutched in one hand, a steaming mug of tea in the other. He scoffs “Pah, what a fool you are, Elminster! Everyone knows Rary's Telepathic Bond cannot work in conjunction with a Gith mindmeld. Utter piffle.” and tosses the sheaf into a receptacle at the base of his desk. Secundus enters close behind him and shuts the door. Setting the tea down, Ori sits in his chair and turns his attention to a curious contraption in the centre of the desk that Secundus had set up earlier.
It is a small plinth about a foot long with four, 10-inch columns rising perpendicular from each corner. In between them, suspended and slowly revolving in the empty air, is the tube Tugark gave him.
The cylinder itself is made of heavy leather, very old, but still capable of keeping its contents safe and dry. It is sealed with a sigil of a cobra head. After a few minutes’ careful examination from a distance, Ori sits back in his chair and raises his hands in front of him with his palms facing the tube. On each palm is a tattoo of a closed eye. As he closes his actual eyes, the lines of these inked images start to move, opening and blinking as the pupils focus on the tube. Ori begins to slowly move his hands around the tube, being careful not to touch it.
After ten or so minutes, Ori lowers his hands and opens his eyes again. “Interesting.” He mutters to himself. “If I'm not mistaken, this sigil is an effigy of Merrshaulk, one of the many Yuan-Ti deities.”
"Yes, thank us, we know who it is." Secundus mutters, as he walks to a shelf on the left-hand wall and runs his hands over the spines of a number of books as Ori continues his commentary. “I can sense some incredibly strong warding magic intertwined with this item. Stronger than anything I’ve ever encountered.” Finally picking a particular tome, Secundus brings it over to the desk, hands it to Ori, and goes off to one side to stand in the centre of a glyph inscribed in the floor.
Ori settles himself in his chair and opens the book somewhere near the back. With his eyes fixed on a particular page, he raises his right hand in front of his chest, palm facing inwards. On the back of his right hand is the tattoo of an empty pentagram. Ori closes his eyes and
...feeling all physical sensation and awareness start to recede, Ori’s inner arcane self awakens, rising to its third form. He finds himself ‘standing’ in a featureless, colourless void utterly devoid of sound, shape, or light. And yet he can quite clearly ‘see’ an impossibly large magical ward stretching into the boundless distance in all ‘directions’. Ignoring a momentary, sourceless, ice-cold shiver that runs its disembodied fingers down his ‘spine’, Ori lets his power tentatively reach out to the barrier - and is brought up short a good ‘distance’ away, rebuffed by an unseen yet potent obstacle of some kind. Ori releases a little more of his magic, pushing his mystic consciousness up into its fifth level of awakening. At the edges of his ‘hearing’, a slight rustling noise becomes apparent. Unperturbed, Ori sinks further into the ward and breaches the sixth gate of his abilities as...
a slight frown crosses Ori’s face. “Shouldn’t require this much effort to dispel…” mutters Secundus, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably; uncertainly. The temperature in the room drops a degree or two. He folds his arms across his massive chest and mirrors the frown on his maker’s face as
...the rustling swells to a pronounced susurration and Ori strains ‘towards’ the gigantic barrier, pouring more and more of his will and his self into the effort. The seventh level opens to him easily - almost too willingly - and the aura around the ward bends... But it’s not enough. It still stands... He is aware he can only ascend safely one more level. In the back of his awareness, he can hear one of his tutors rambling on about what she called the kekkei genkai - the uppermost limit of one’s current abilities, and how “to reach even this level is to put immense pressure on the mind”... He pushes ‘forwards’ again as...
the door to the study opens and a third Oriloki steps in. “What’re we doing? We can feel the pressure from - ” He’s cut off by a quick “Hush, Tertius!” and a sharp slashing gesture from Secundus as the pentagram on Ori’s hand morphs into an “8” and a low hissing fills the room. Tertius quickly shuts the door and moves to an identical glyph across from Secundus. A moment later, a tattoo of a circle appears on the foreheads of both and starts to glow purple; the glyphs chime and the air around Secundus and Tertius distorts, protective bubbles coalescing round them both just as
...the roaring, spirant noise fills every inch of his being and, with a monumental push, Ori enters the 8th arcanae. Even ‘here’ in this void, Ori can feel his whole being scream with the undertaking. Finally, just as he feels the magic force of his efforts and the ward combining and turning to reject him, he melds with the barrier, joins with it, sinks into its fabric - but still can’t unravel it. He senses some...thing…? reaching out to meet him. But it’s just a tube, surely? he thinks to himself. This barrier is merely designed to stop those OUTSIDE getting IN, no? Unsure, he siphons off a fragment of his consciousness to reach back to his study and...
Ori croaks, “More...” Secundus and Tertius glance at one another; Tertius shrugs and leaves his protective bubble, walking round the desk and placing his right hand on Ori’s right shoulder. The pentagram tattoo on the back of Tertius’ hand also reforms into an ‘8’ as a jolt of power connects them both. The background hissing grows, and becomes...words, sibilant and horrifying, but indistinguishable, unintelligible. Even within the bubble, the hairs on Secundus' arms start to rise. A second later, he cries out in alarm as…
...feeling Tertius join him, Ori channels the additional arcane energy into a single spike, forcing a tiniest crack in the multiverse-encompassing ward and...
the atmosphere in the room changes…uncoils...
...an eye, gargantuan - inconceivable - in size, appears within the ward. It opens: a vicious, yellow, vertical pupil looks down at, into, and through Ori. It blinks once - slower than glaciers, quicker than quantum - refocuses on Ori and ‘speaks’... its ‘voice vibrating through Ori’s soul... “Now? Is it time? ...No... I don’t recognise you... Who are you? Come closer...”
Secundus barrels across the room, watching the other two go limp in an instant: Ori slumping across the desk, a thin line of purple-red blood running from his left eye; Tertius dropping to the ground beside him convulsing with a shrill keening cry, hands and feet thrashing arhythmically against the floor - the noise Tertius is making intertwines in ghastly harmony with the incessant background sibilant speech - now a screech in his ears; in his bones. Secundus vaults the desk, right arm drawn back and
...Ori and Tertius feel themselves reeled ‘inwards’ against their will. The sensation of innumerate, dry, constricting coils circles about them. Power seems to leech from them in a trickle… then a torrent… pouring into the crack in the ward, widening it. Neither can disentangle themselves. The eye grows immeasurably - the ward is splitting, like a maw opening to swallow them, to swallow the world, distending unfeasibly wide to devour hope - until…
CRACK!
Secundus’ fist strikes Ori’s jaw, snapping it to the side with an audible crunch of bone on bone.
...And the tether breaks! The ethereal coils tense and collapse in on themselves protectively. Ori’s power returns to him in a rush and he is flung back, back into reality…
...back into his body, as he slams into the chair and screeches across the flagstones of his office, crashing unconscious into the bookshelves behind him, tomes toppling around him. Prone on the floor, Tertius tries to drag himself up on the corner of the desk, but vomits in pain and fear - in naked relief - before falling back against the flagstones and passing out.
Silence… Stillness... Silence...
Secundus, breathing raggedly, staggers over to a replica map of Kantas on the wall, and slides aside Kundar to reveal a recess - from which he retrieves a bottle and a glass. Stepping over the pool of Tertius’ half-digested breakfast, he sets the glass on the desk and pours a generous measure.
“Not ideal.” He remarks, knocking the drink back, hands shaking violently.
***
An hour later, and Ori has mostly recovered. Scattered across the desk, untouched, are the tube and its contents: a spell scroll; a roll of parchment covered in strange, unsettling hieroglyphs that seem to move when glimpsed out of the corner of the eye; and a small velvet pouch.
As Ori raises his hands over the items, Secundus says: “Really? Again? Is this wise?”
Immediately, Tertius responds testily, “Don’t question us. We know what we’re doi…”
“Peace.” Ori interrupts, “We won’t get caught like that again.”
Secundus nods once, holding his hands up placatingly as Tertius picks up a quill and blank scroll. Ori waves his hand cursorily over the tube.
“Mundane.”
Tertius scribbles a small note. Ori moves onto the parchment.
“Mundane. But contains didactic writing.”
Tertius scribbles another note, as Ori’s hand hovers over the spell scroll.
“Abjuration. Potent. Familiar but unknown.”
Tertius keeps writing. Ori turns to the pouch and upends it. A ruby tumbles out... He holds his hand over it. And recoils momentarily; before persevering with his analysis.
“Type: Abjuration. Level: Critical. Source: Unknown. Threat: Perilous.” Ori snatches his hand back as if scalded. “Entity within.”
Leaving the ruby where it has landed, Ori sips from the mug of tea cooling beside him. Setting it down, he unravels the spell scroll and begins to read. As he deciphers the text, a frown crosses his face - then a grimace - then a look of disgust. Wearily he slumps back, wiping a trembling hand across a brow that is clammy and damp with sweat.
“Dictation. New spell encountered. Seemingly called ‘Constricting Coils of the Snake’. Beyond my level - through the 9th arcane gate of power. Similar to the standard but formidable Imprisonment spell. Adjustments have been made. Can sequester multiple targets in stasis as well as shielding them from magical and mundane detection. Modifications: the components required constitute main difference. Blood of 20 humanoid victims required within 10 minutes of their death; collected by a ritual blade.” Ori pauses for a second, re-reading a passage. “Clarification: ALL blood from subjects required; total drainage necessary.”
He almost tosses the spell scroll aside in revulsion and picks up the parchment with the strange inscriptions.
“New subject. Language... language unknown. Translation commencing.” Behind each of Ori’s ears, a tattoo of a mouth begins to open and close, and he cocks his head to one side.
“Language… Yuan-Ti..? Unknown dialect. Seems obscure. Secretive, maybe. Follows familiar pattern to high-level cultist screed. Not using the standard draconic alphabet, however. Holy text? Unlikely. Possible diary or log. Contents:” his eyes scan the page and his voice falters. “Conte… co…”
Secundus tenses and Tertius looks up from his scribing.
“Contents…oh my... Fuck.”
As one, all three scatter to various points on the bookshelves, haphazardly tossing scrolls and books and tomes aside in their search, occasionally ripping out a pertinent page and throwing it onto the desk. Their communication comes in fragments of half-audible, half-telepathic chatter; Oriloki’s many voices overlaying and cutting through each other.
“Check Mordenkai…” “Nothing!”
“Where’s a History of Merrsha…” “Yes/No/Corroborated by page 176 of Kantas’ Dangerous Creatures and Where to Fin…”
“Zealots from the” “hidden in gems” “Cobra in the Night Sky” “Only one?” “The Fiend Below” "duthrael and auvrael” “time.”
In two giant strides, Ori reaches the desk, and sweeps the ruby, spell scroll, and loose parchments into a bag. On his biceps, two identical tattoos of circles start to slowly spin in place. He vanishes from view; Tertius following a second behind.
Secundus walks over and picks up the chair Ori knocked over in his haste, muttering “We hate it when we do that.” and pops out of sight. The mug of tea at the edge of the desk is now ice cold.
***
“I don’t know!” Aurelia is saying to Rholor in a low, urgent whisper, one eye on the council functionaries scurrying about their business on either side. “He just appeared and said - demanded, actually - to meet now. Here. His message was very brief. And then he vanished.”
Rholor arches an eyebrow. “Same, same. Well, you know what he’s like. Genius? Yes. Powerful? Yes. Highly strung?”
“Absolutely!” Aurelia and Rholor say at the same time.
Their eyes meet and they share a brief, warm smile. Rholor looks on the verge of saying something else when the sound of sandals slapping heavily on flagstones draws their attention. They turn to see Ori hurry round the corner, robe flapping about him, waving a sheaf of parchments in his right hand and clutching a small velvet pouch in his left. He skids to a halt in front of them, wheezing.
“Thank you...meeting...urgent...go somewhere quiet…” He gasps out, bent almost double, hands on his knees.
“My chamber is free. We can go there.” Aurelia replies and leads the way through the corridors of the council building. Arriving at her offices, she ushers the other two inside before closing the door behind them. Rholor and Aurelia begin casting protective wards and barriers as Ori lays out a number of things on the desk: a ruby, a spell scroll, and two pieces of parchment - one covered in a neat, precise script, the other a map of a night sky. The goliath turns to face the other two as they finish casting their spells.
“I’ll be as concise as I can.” Ori waves his hand over the table. “Master Tugark and others found a number of items in an abandoned Yuan-Ti shrine. He brought them to me a month ago to examine. I only found the time today to turn my attention to them. They were wrapped in strong protective magic to keep me out - or so I thought. It was actually designed to keep something in - keep it safe in that gem.” He points at the ruby. “I almost broke the seal on that and released it before I realised what was happening. It saw me, felt my presence, and used me as an anchor to try and slither its way into this plane.”
Ori pauses for a moment, pain and embarrassment writ large on his tattooed face. “I would like to apologise. I was overly curious about the ward and rash enough to attempt to unravel it without warning others first. I would like to state that I did this on my own time and in my capacity as a private citizen - and not as a representative of the Watchful Order. But I apologise wholeheartedly for the danger in which I could have placed Kantas. I hope the information - the warning - I bring can repay that damage somewhat ”
“This,” Ori points to the parchment covered in neat writing, “is an extract from the diary of a high-ranking Yuan-Ti priest that I have just finished translating. It talks about the need to ‘save the priesthood from the Zealots from the West’: I assume these zealots to be a rival Yuan-Ti cabal trying to wipe out the author’s own sect. The tone is very prophetic and cryptic. It talks about a deal they did with an Archfiend to seal away Yuan-Ti priests in gems to keep them safe and hidden awaiting the right time to begin an awakening ritual. Awaken what, you ask?”
Ori seems to warm to his task, adopting a scholarly tone, his previous embarrassment seemingly forgotten.
“The last few paragraphs describe a vision of some sort. And I quote: ‘When the Cobra in the Night Sky opens his eyes, the Night Serpent will enter our dreams to claim all the vrael olo: both the auvrael and duthrael alike. Yet we know the Truth: the Serpent is One, only their names are many. Once awoken we shall reclaim our temples, cleanse them from the Zealots’ curses, and complete our rituals. When the One Serpent embraces us all, no more sacrifices will be needed, praised be the Serpent. The world will be finally at peace, embraced by the coils of the Serpent. Now I shall sleep a red sleep, waiting in my slumber to dream.’”
Ori stops and peers over his glasses at Aurelia and Rholor. Insufferably.
“I assume you follow the significance of all this, yes? Internecine religious squabbling is commonplace in the culture of the vrael olo. That’s the Yuan-Ti’s own word for themselves, by the way: it means ‘favoured ones’. Daily use typically employs the shortened vrael, and can be modified to auvrael, meaning ‘friendly’ or ‘known’ Yuan-Ti, or duthrael, denoting ‘unfriendly’ or ‘unfamiliar’ Yuan-Ti.”
“That sentence ‘Yet we know the Truth: the Serpent is One, only their names are many’ is most curious. Common knowledge of the serpentine pantheon holds that there are numerous deities often in open conflict with each other: Merrshaulk, Sseth, Dendar and so on. This parchment contends that all their gods are in fact one, and that He - Merrshaulk - is close to returning and will unite ALL vrael olo - ‘both the auvrael and duthrael alike’. Even the Zealots of the West against whom the writer and his ilk are contending. A fascinating revelation if true, and quite a departure from traditional, received thought. It will make quite a scintillating topic for my next Speculorum to the Order.”
“This,” and Ori moves his attention to the spell scroll, “is an inventive, heinous piece of magic; the result of the bargain with the unnamed Archfiend, I suspect. It reeks of the Hellish arcane. The diary goes on to say that ‘the stars have spoken, we shall not pay Her price, Merrshaulk has spoken through me: we shall be protected.’ It seems the Archfiend was not trusted by the priests and they double-crossed her somehow. It isn’t clear how or who.” Ori lifts a finger to push his spectacles back to the bridge of his nose.
“However, when they tried to retrieve these items, Tugark reported they were attacked by a fiend that Mistress Sunday recognised as being in service to Glasya. Somehow, the Lord of the Sixth is also involved in all this. That might explain the recent surge in fiendish activity we’re seeing, in my opinion. Anyway, the pact between the Archfiend and the priests created a modified version of the Imprisonment spell. Modified so it can be cast on multiple targets at once. The diary entry talks about how hundreds of humanoids - some willing, most not - were sacrificed simultaneously and utterly exsanguinated to seal numerous Yuan-Ti priests away in gems like that.” He points again at the ruby. “The ‘red dream of sleep’ mentioned in the diary.”
“There are most likely a number of gems out there - the journal extract does not specific exactly how many - keeping the priests safe until a propitious time and they can assemble to complete their rite. Some of the other gems may also already have been found, but their owners ignorant of what they are.” Ori nods to Rholor. “I read in the archives that Daring has experienced something like this before: the Fey Who Dreamt? Maybe the citizens and adventures of Kantas can be advised to be on the look-out for these gems?”
“And what of that propitious time I mentioned; this arrival of the ‘Cobra in the Night Sky’ that is so vital to vrael olo eschatology?” Oriloki says, lifting the final piece of parchment off the desk. “The phrase seemed familiar but I couldn’t recall where I’d heard it. Then I remembered a night at the Guilded Mirror. Leocanto was singing a rather rude song about an archer who shoots arrows at the posteriors of gods dwelling among the stars - one of the verses was about a Cobra god. There was a rather unwitty line about an ass and an asp.”
He hands the parchment to Rholor. “This is a map of the stars and constellations of Kantas from the council archives. My best guess is that the 'Cobra in the Night Sky’ might refer to the constellation of Faeraula - also known as the Serpent of the Sands, the Sword of the South, the Southfires, or the Lightning Bolt - the very same star that now burns over the Sunset Spines. And what might one find there? The diary I translated makes reference to The Book of Dreams and Nightmares, that the author seems to have consulted after receiving visions. He goes on to say he was commanded to burn it and the only other copy is hidden ‘at the Left Fang of the Cobra.’ I do not know what that book is or exactly where beneath the configuration it can be found; maybe it contains the ritual process to bring Merrshaulk back or seal Him away again. Either way, this concludes what I have currently uncovered and is the limit of what I feel comfortable surmising. I’m sorry it isn’t more...”
(Many thanks to Jon and Andy for editing and contributing; and to Guido for thinking up all this insanity!)
